Page 56 of Easy Out

“You didn’t even tell me.”

“I don’t have to tell you,” I snap. “And actually, I did. Several times I’ve told you I was getting a job at Ray’s.” Sydney and I have been working there for weeks. I don’t get why he is suddenly bothered by this.

My guess is someone on Carter’s payroll was there last night and snitched on me. He should trust me. Sydney and I are safe. We look out for each other. No one messes with us when we’re there.

I don’t know if Ray warned customers off us or what. We schlep around beers and bourbons, we dance on the bar top, and don’t even get as much as a wink from the guys in our section.

Even without flirting, we still make money. The first night we came home, we threw all the money on Syd’s bed and rolled around in it without any shame. It was awesome.

"There is six hundred dollars in that envelope, Carter. If you think I will give that up, you’re loco." I also kept a couple hundred for myself, which is more than I’ve ever made in a week at the academy.

“It’s not worth it, Lo. You are putting yourself in danger when you don’t have to.” I swing around from the stove faster than Carter can blink. He makes it sound like I’m selling parts of myself to make a dollar.

“You’re wrong. I do have to, Carter,” I seethe. “You don’t know what I’ve been through. I won’t go back to that.” I step into his personal space and jab a finger into his chest. Metaphorical steam is pouring out of my ears. It pisses me off that he thinks he knows what’s best for me.

He has no idea what my life has been like.

Carter straightens and towers over me. “I do know, Lo. And trust me when I say looking for trouble isn’t the answer.”

“I’m not you. I know what I’m doing.” He scoffs.

“Are you saying I don’t?”

“I’m saying at least what I’m doing is legal.” The vein on Carter’s forehead pulses. His nostrils flare. He knows I’m right. I may not be around as much, but I see things. Emilio does a shit job of hiding the bruises on his face and knuckles.

“You are a naïve little girl. You need to remember your place,” he spits.

“And you need to remember you don’t own me!” I scream.

“Watch your tone, Lo. I’m warning you.” Carter waves a finger in my face. I’m about to smack it away and dare him to do whatever he has planned when someone steps in front of me, blocking me from Carter.

Hart’s broad shoulders obstruct my view. His voice is deep and controlled. I wish they weren’t speaking Spanish. I want to know what they are saying.

Peeking around Hart’s body, I glance at Carter. Going by the look on his face, whatever Hart is saying isn’t nice.

I place the palm of my hand on Hart’s back to steady, and hopefully, calm him. I don’t even know if I have that kind of power over him.

When I got upset with Nash, Hart held my hips. It grounded me. His cool demeaner settled over me. Even then, he had an effect on me. I wanted to lean against his chest and let him wrap his arms around me.

I don’t need Hart to fight my battles. Especially those against Carter, but I’m happy he’s here.

Wait, why is he here? Maybe I should be mad that he just showed up without a personal invitation. How does he know where I live off campus?

I’m honestly not sure I care because the overwhelming appreciation that someone is in my corner fighting for me has taken over the lion’s share of my brain. No one has fought this hard for me before.

I continue to rub Hart’s back as he argues with Carter. Hart reaches behind him for my other hand and intertwines our fingers together. He’s showing Carter we’re a team. We’re in this together. I’m not alone.

Staring at our hands, tears threaten to form. I wave them off. I can’t afford to look weak.

“Your problem now ése,“ Carter says to Hart before glaring at me and walking out of my trailer. Hart squeezes my hand. Then he turns around and wraps his arms around me. It’s like taking a sedative that’s effective immediately.

I melt into his chest.

Hart kisses my forehead. “I have someone I want you to meet.” Okay, so we aren’t going to address the fact that your lips touched me or how I witnessed the beginning of a Spanish Civil War?

Hart leads me to my living room, where the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen is standing. Her smile is big and contagious. Her dark eyes are gleaming with excitement.

"Mamá, this is Lauren. Lauren, this is my mom, Sylvie." Hart brought his mom to my trailer. She just witnessed her son verbally sparring with another man in my home. My entire body flushes with embarrassment. Not the best first impression.

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