Page 17 of No Second Chances

There are sheets and blankets pinned everywhere we look. My windows are covered; even the TV itself is covered so that we can sit on the floor in front of the couch and still watch the movie he picks out.

Long after bedtime has come and gone, Nox is curled into my side with wide eyes.

“You’re the best, Auntie.” He yawns loudly. “Better than Mom and Dad… I mean Remy.”

Nox is too young to understand how hard his words hit me and the immediate effect they have on my heart. My heart throbs, not for myself, but for him. The loss he suffered before he was even born and whatever regret he had at calling Remy his father.

“You know.” I cough to try and clear the emotion from my heart, unable to breathe through it for longer than I want. Instead of forcing the words, I wrap Nox in a hug as tight as I can manage without hurting him. “You know,” I try again and still can’t get it out.

“What is it, Auntie? I didn’t mean to make you mad by calling Remy my dad.” The panic in his voice and the way he pulls away from me, or tries to, sets everything into motion.

“You know, I think Remy and your mom would be perfectly fine with you calling him your dad. I think they’d like it, actually.” My voice catches, and I can’t keep the tears back any longer.

Pure, sweet love, that of a child, is something I’ve wanted my entire life. A family. One I couldn’t wait to have for my own.

“He’s the only dad I have.” Nox yawns even more. “I love him.”

While Nox curls into my side even further, completely oblivious to the fact that he’s thrown my world into chaos, my mind wanders to another time. Another night, where I shared my hopes for the future.

“Come along, Nox.” I ruffle his hair. “It’s time to go to bed.”

Groggily, he gets up and starts to crawl out of the blanket fort with a series of grunts and complaints.

“You know what? I’ve changed my mind.” I look down at the bright smile that appears on his face. “Let me just turn on the light in the window, and we’ll sleep down here.”

“Why do you turn the light on?” Nox yawns and curls into the pillow and blankets that we’ve been using. “We’re going to bed.”

“Because sometimes your uncle Linc comes by and sits outside. Watching out for me.” I rub the scars on my left wrist once more. “He’s worried about me, I think.”

Nox nods into the pillow. “He’s got your six.” His eyes are closed, so he doesn’t see the tears well up, nor does he see the watery smile that I give him at his words.

Instead, I turn on the light in my window, like I do every night. I lean against the door, resting my forehead against the solid wood. And just like every night, I silently wish that instead of being outside, Linc was with me, building a life.

But wishes are only granted in fairy tales, and my life has been nothing more than a nightmare wrapped in a daydream disguised as the apocalypse.

8

LINC

Poking my eye feels like the wrong thing to do, but it looks puffy, so I do it. Immediately, a shard of pain shoots into my brain and down through my fingers.

“Fuck me,” I groan.

I will never put on a pair of roller skates again, and Remy owes me big-time for involving me in his dumbass plan to help Cain out with training a derby team on banked track. What the hell do we know about banked track anymore? Apparently, not nearly enough, because not only did we get our asses handed to us by women, but one of them got me in the face with a skate and I look like I got into a fight with a fuckin’ door. And lost, spectacularly.

Even three days later, I can’t get the bruise to fade. Hell, I’m considering going to Emma and asking her to show me how to use makeup because I’m sick and tired of being asked what happened to my face.

“Why are you staring at yourself?”

I knew I wasn’t in the bathroom at the courthouse alone; that is practically impossible. But I honestly hadn’t expected to see Royal fucking Prince.

The reflection I find staring back at me through the mirror shows my complete opposite. Where I have on a dark-blue uniform, buttoned all the way up to my chin, with a utility belt strapped to my side, a gun attached to my hip, and the badge shining back at me from my chest, Royal does not. He has on a dark-gray suit, which probably costs more than my first car, and a tie that I want to rip off his neck and hang him with, along with an actual handkerchief in the pocket on his breast. I have blond hair; he has dark-brown hair. His eyes are almost the same color as his hair, while mine are blue.

Kennedy couldn’t have picked anyone more opposite of me, and the thought stings.

“Go away, Royal.” If I hadn’t sworn to Chief Townsend that I wouldn’t murder the man currently staring at me in the mirror like he is better than me, I’d beat the shit out of him.

When he doesn’t immediately leave like I want him to, my fists clench around the porcelain of the bathroom sink. I have to do something, anything, to keep from wrapping my hands around his goddamn neck.

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