Page 39 of Not Mine to Keep

Me:Your aunt will be okay. My family will make sure of that.

Little Miss Tennessee Whiskey:That bit of knowledge is what’s keeping me from losing my mind with worry. I just hate that you have to do what you’re going to do tomorrow because of my mess.

Me:A mess would imply you got yourself into something and need a bailout. You were born into this. Not your fault. And helping people and taking down assholes is what I do. What my family does. It’s no problem.

Well, that wasn’t the total truth. There were quite a few fucking problems happening. Marriage as part of my mission was up there as one of them. High-high up there.

Little Miss Tennessee Whiskey:And if Armani’s lying about the Esposito family working with my guard to try and kill me? Do you think maybe he’s just trying to ... find an excuse for you to take out his competition?

The thought had crossed my mind, but if Armani wanted war with the Espositos, he could have attacked them long ago. Plus, I knew Gabriel wouldn’t send me on a kill mission if he didn’t believe the Espositos were responsible. (Even if he was a criminal.)

Fuck, now I’m thinking with parentheses.

Little Miss Tennessee Whiskey:Sorry, I’m sure you would’ve brought that up if you’d thought it was possible.

Me:I do think the head of the Esposito crime family’s responsible for the attack in the park. But it wouldn’t matter either way. Armani wants him dead, and I have to do it. Part of the job.

Little Miss Tennessee Whiskey:Job? Right. I’m a job for you.

Maybe our new “security company” needed some sensitivity training, because I’d fumbled the ball there. Forgot to be sweet or cute. Then again, being nice might ...complicatethings.

Little Miss Tennessee Whiskey:And these Espositos really deserve to die?

Me:Your father may be more powerful than them, but the Espositos make Armani look like a gentleman in terms of their tactics to achieve their goals. They have no moral code whatsoever.

Little Miss Tennessee Whiskey:I guess that should make me feel better about you doing “the thing” tomorrow.

Me:Try not to think about it.

She’d already seen me kill three people; no sense in her having nightmares about me killing more.

Little Miss Tennessee Whiskey:Okay ...

Me:Not very convincing that you’re “okay.”

Little Miss Tennessee Whiskey:I can sing. Not act.

Little Miss Tennessee Whiskey:Oh, and shit, I forgot to tell you.

I’d swear it was as if we were talking over the phone instead of texting right now. I could hear her sexy accent, and every little inflection came through her tone with each word sent.

Me:Forgot to tell me what?

Little Miss Tennessee Whiskey:A friend found out I called in sick today at work. Dropped by with soup. Mr. Crabby (did I ever tell you that’s his real name?) told him I left with some guy that “looks too good for his own good.”

All I could focus on was the wordhim. Who was the “him” who had “dropped by” to see her when he found out she wasn’t in school?

Little Miss Tennessee Whiskey:I’m telling you this because now he’s worried, and he keeps calling and texting. He’s concerned I was kidnapped. What do I do? Do I answer? Text him back?

What was this ridiculous need to want to tell her that the “him” in question didn’t need to worry about her, because she wasn’t his to worry about?You’re ...I let that unfinished thought go. Because she wasn’t mine. Not in the real sense. Never would be.

Me:Who?

Little Miss Tennessee Whiskey:Remember the guy you met at the bar at the event? Bartender I jam with from time to time.

Of-fucking-course.

Me:How could I forget . . . ?

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