Page 60 of Borden 3

Ew. I made a face of disgust as I sidestepped him. He disappeared into the bathroom. Roger’s eyes crinkled from the smile he was shooting me. “I offered,” he said.

Granny arrived to look after Link. “Just a few more months until Kindergarten,” I assured her.

She batted those words away. “Looking after Lincoln is like having a third chance at life.”

“What was your second?”

She smiled. “You.”

I hugged her. “He loves you.”

“He is a special boy, Emma.” Then she hobbled up the staircase and my heart tightened at the look of her ageing body. This woman just kept going. I had a feeling Link was the reason.

Hector had a tall mug of coffee when he slid into the car. He looked hungover. For a moment, I thought he was.

“What?” he asked, noticing my stare.

“Did you drink last night?”

He chuckled dryly. “If I drank, you’d know about it.”

I recalled the stories of Hector back when he was the club president. Apparently all the man did was drink and fuck. As if knowing I was thinking that, he scoffed. “I ain’t like that no more, alright?”

I raised my hands. “I didn’t say anything.”

“Your look said it all.”

“I was thinking along those lines. All the things I used to hear—”

“I don’t like talking about it.” His lips pressed down into a hard line. “I was in a bad place, sweets.”

“What changed that?”

“I hit rock bottom.”

I stewed on that for a moment. “How does someone know when they’ve hit rock bottom?”

He pounded at his chest as he drove down the streets, heading into the city. “You don’t feel like you could hurt anymore.”

That was very touching.

Hector had a knack for saying some seriously moving stuff. To fill up the space, I turned on the radio and flicked through the stations. When he headbanged to an atrocious metal song, I let out a giggle and changed the station.

“Not fair,” he murmured, amused.

I almost threw on some silly pop song to piss him up, but I wasn’t that heartless. I turned the knob, searching for the right mood. Something that would sync well with our caffeine deprived minds. My fingers froze when that fucking song hit me.

“...Somewhere over the rainbow…blue birds fly…”

It was a punch to the gut.

I turned the radio off completely and stared out the window. Too late, though, the song was in my head and it wasn’t going anywhere.

“You okay?” Hector asked, catching my mood.

“Just hate that fucking song,” I answered, seething.

“Really? I think it’s the most beautiful song in the world. That Israel guy was somethin’.”

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