Page 131 of Brazen Mistakes

Me too.

I cover her hand with my own, wishing I could have protected her before now.

Her openness sparks my own. Even knowing that was her intent. Strategic. Functional. Smart. She caught me. “Having the guns pointed at me was terrifying. But somehow, that wasn’t the worst part.” I swallow, forcing myself to continue. “It was the way I had to smile at these two grown men with guns, how I had to appease them, prove to them thattheywere safe when I’m the one with two weapons pointed at me.”

Closing my eyes lets the words out easier, so I block out everything except the flower scent of Clara’s hair. “I mean, I’m tall, but I’m not a huge guy, not like Trips. My flashlight was shining out the back of my phone. In no world I can imagine would a cellphone with the flashlight on be mistaken for a gun, but still, I dropped it immediately when they asked. The thing’s totally busted. Even when I was cuffed in the back of a cop car, I had to keep smiling, keep saying ‘yes, sir, no, sir,’ careful not to defend myself with any sort of confidence. Because even restrained with a cage between us, I’m still seen as dangerous.”

When I open my eyes, I see Clara’s risen to her elbow, dark eyes shining with unshed tears. It’s like she’s transposed the tears that I’m too tired to shed into her own person. “RJ,” she murmurs, and I don’t want her to say anything else.

Instead I press my lips to hers, not quite a kiss, but she allows me to pull her down, draping her over my chest. I clear my throat. “You’re not only dreaming about Chicago?” I ask, not able to share more. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

She waits for a moment, then seems to allow the subject change, her voice more frustration than sadness. “No. It turns out there’s a lot that I’d decided not to remember over the years. But asleep Clara hasn’t seemed to have gotten the memo.”

We lie like that for a while. She doesn’t add anything else. And I don’t either.

Eventually, a soft knock comes to the door, and when Clara doesn’t stir, I notice that she’s once again passed out on my chest. If only it were twenty-four hours ago, I’d feel that same burbling pride that she felt safe with me.

But it’s not yesterday. It’s today. Even though I got out of there in one piece, I can’t help but feel like that was my one warning shot. My next run-in with the cops, I’m not getting that lucky. If you can even call that lucky. I guess any day you’re alive is lucky.

There’s a scratch of keys, and Walker inches the door open. I press my finger to my lips, and he nods. When he leans over and presses a kiss to Clara’s head, I once again wonder what else is broken in me that I don’t feel jealous.

It’s better this way. For her. And probably for us, too.

“You hungry?” he asks, his voice barely a whisper.

“I could eat. And I’ve got one hell of a headache.”

He pulls a can of Mountain Dew from the pouch of his sweatshirt. I take it, then inch backwards until I’m sitting up and Clara’s head is on my lap. If I weren’t so hollowright now, I’d probably spend more than a single second remembering the wet, warm heat of her mouth on me when her head’s that close to my junk, but not today.

Today, I’ll start talking again, and maybe leave my room. I can worry about getting the rest of me functioning tomorrow. “Thanks,” I say.

Walker wheels my chair over, falling into it with more drama than efficiency.

“How are you doing?” he asks.

Cracking open the can, I take a swig. But I don’t answer. I don’t know how to. I shared as much as I could with Clara, and for now, that’s going to have to be enough. Instead, I shrug. “Did she eat today?” I ask instead.

Walker slumps, staring at the woman draped across my lap. “She managed one piece of bacon and half of a piece of French toast.” He drags a finger over her cheek, unable to keep his hands to himself, and I get it. I really do. “At least she’s sleeping.”

“She’s started sharing.”

“That’s good. Right?”

“Probably. I’m not a shrink.”

Walker leans back. “And I’m shit at communication. I guess we’ll just have to see. What do you think about the plan for your dad?”

Another question I don’t have the answer to right now. “It’ll work for now. But I don’t know if it’ll stick. Or if we’re even demanding the help he needs.”

“True. But something has to be better than you having to buy them out of foreclosure again.”

Staring down at Clara, I let the feeling of her curls against my palm ground me. “Trips told you?”

“Is that okay?”

“Yeah. I guess. This affects you guys now, too.”

“I always wondered how you ended up on the wrong side of the internet. Curiosity would bring you to visit, but something else would have had to happen for you to stay.”

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