Page 58 of Filthy Devil

“We’ll run to the store, and I’ll grab you something. You can’t go in there dressed like that, either.”

Climbing into the pickup truck, I stare out the windshield and wonder what tomorrow will bring. I would have never imagined that this is how today would have gone. Not even when I was driving toward Nash did I think that things would go this badly.

After the hospital, I don’t know if I’m going to have a place to go. I have no doubt that King and Shawn hate everything about me. At least I know that Nash is alive and safe, but all of this is my fault.

Bugsy tells me to stay put as he parks in a spot near the front door of a department store. Twisting my fingers together in my lap, I try not to think about what is going to happen. I hate this. I never wanted anyone to get hurt.

And yet, that’s what keeps happening.

Flicking my gaze to the door handle, I imagine running my fingers over the cool metal, considering opening it, but then Idecide against it because where would I go? And I’m pretty sure no matter where I went, the Southern Mafia would find me. And destroy me as a whole. I don’t think I want to even imagine any of the things they would do to me.

So I stay where I am.

And a few moments later, Bugsy appears and tosses a pair of sweatpants and a solid black T-shirt with a deepVat me. I’m not mad at any of it. Instead of trying to find a bathroom to change in, I put my clothes on in the passenger seat as we head the few blocks toward the hospital.

Bugsy parks in a spot at the back of the parking lot but doesn’t make an immediate move to get out of the pickup. Instead, he turns up a song on the radio. I take in the tune.

It’s “Hotel California.”

And then it hits me. I’m living this song. Checking out and never leaving. I could check the hell out of this world, but I can never leave. I was born into this without even knowing. I am part of this world, and I can never leave. Even if I tried, it could never leave me. It is who I am, inside and out.

I need to come to terms with that and accept it.

No matter how hard my grandparents tried to keep it from me, this is who I am. And I need to make the best of it. I just hope that Nash doesn’t want to get rid of me because I’m too much drama. Because I can’t imagine being passed off to anyone other than Nash.

He is the man I want to belong to—the man I love.

NASH

I’m notsure how much time has passed. It’s been too damn long, and she isn’t here yet. This is beyond James changing intosome clean clothes. I can’t help but wonder what the hell is going on.

“Elvis, where is James?” I ask after Shawn and the kids have slipped from the room to get something to eat.

“She’ll be here. But, Dad?” he asks.

I have a feeling he’s going to tell me to scrape her off. But I have no plans on doing that at all whatsoever. Because that woman is mine, and she ain’t going any-damn-where. The only place she’s going is right into my house, in my bed. That is where she belongs. Nowhere else.

“Do I want to hear what you’re going to say?” I ask.

He chuckles. “Probably not, but I’m gonna say it because I give a fuck about you.”

I know that my son gives a fuck about me. I might not have raised him the way I should have. I might not have been the father he needed when he was young. I hate myself for it, and I regret it more than anything else in my life. I thought I was doing the right thing by staying away, but it was the worst fucking thing I could have done.

But when Elvis says that he gives a fuck about me, I know it is genuine and comes from deep down inside his soul. Whatever he’s about to say, I may not agree with it, but I’m going to give him the respect of hearing him out.

“I like James. I like her more than I thought I would. But that doesn’t mean I think what’s going on is right.”

“Why?” I ask.

He shakes his head, lifting his hand to wrap his fingers around the back of his neck. I know he’s massaging his neck to relieve the tension there. If my side didn’t hurt so fucking badly, I might chuckle because it’s clear he does not want me asking why.

“She’s too young. She doesn’t know who the fuck she is, and I’m afraid she’s going to hurt you. This whole thing isn’t like a typical relationship. When the dust settles, she’s going to run.”

Clearing my throat, I stare at him for a moment. I know he cares. I know that if Bugsy were in this bed and he was fucking James, I would say the same shit. I also know that when I say the next few words, they’re going to sound so fucking stupid because if I were listening to this shit from the outside looking in, I would think it was stupid.

“I know she’s too young for me. I’m not some dumbass old man star-struck that some young piece of ass gave him the time of day. I could get a young piece of ass anywhere, Elvis. You, of all people, know that, yeah?”

“She’s almost forty years younger than you,” Elvis needlessly points out. “You gonna give her babies?”

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