Page 36 of Of Blood and Smoke

“Oh.” I replied with surprise. I hadn’t expected him to give me a name and I ran through my memory, trying to see if I’d ever read anything about a Vincent getting arrested for drugs. I came up empty, but there were thousands of drug dealers. “I still owe Vincent,” I mumbled.

“No, you still owe me.” He motioned for me to move. “Let me sit, you’re taking up the whole place,” he grumbled.

Sighing dramatically, I ducked out of the way. He slid me over more, so my head rested on his lap. “When will the food be here?” I asked.

Donning a ridiculous accent, he answered, “Fifteen minute.”

Brett began playing with my hair, pulling it out of the bun I’d arranged this morning. “Della, what do I have to do?”

His somber tone sent a deep regret through my chest. “Brett, it wouldn’t be fair to you if I faked it.”

His hand tightened in my hair, sending unwanted desire coursing through me, before he leaned down and kissed me roughly. “What happened to us?” he asked.

Nothing happened, I wanted to say. There never truly was aus.

For me, it’d always been more of a close and fond friendship, with benefits. The manipulation-slash-blackmail schtick of his didn’t inspire me to want commitment with the man.

It was confusing how he had so many good qualities, and a good heart, and then resorted to being an ass. He genuinely cared about my dad, too, which made all this even worse.

The two men adored each other, and Brett visited my dad once or twice a week and brought magazines to read to him. One of the nurses told me he spent an hour each time he visited, entertaining him. If Brett wasn’t a good man, would he do that?

Sitting up, I ignored his hopefully rhetorical question. “I only have a week before I have to be out of here. I have to get moving, get this place packed up.”

“Della,” he took my hand when I stood up. “Let me help.”

“Not if you’re going to hold it over my head.”

Brett pressed his lips into a thin line and tilted his head. “Knock it off, I’m just offering to help pack.”

“Did you decide to give me more help by paying the entirety of my dad’s bill?” When I went to call in my half of the payment earlier, I’d been told it was already taken care of.

“No, that wasn’t the deal. Why?” He began folding a box into a cube.

I stared at him, trying to figure out if he was being honest. It seemed a little too generous, even for him, but I wouldn’t put it past him to leave me even more indebted.

“Because it was already paid in full.”

Brett’s head whipped around in shock. Anger slowly seeped into his gaze, and he slammed the empty box down before flipping it over to tape the bottom shut. He reached onto a shelf and started grabbing my dad’s books and dropping roughly them into the container.

He had only filled one box with the items from the case and then our food arrived. Brett ran outside to pick it up while I grabbed plates and utensils. I took the opportunity to empty the cabinet onto the counter while I waited and arranged the dishes into orderly stacks.

This was a new beginning for me, and I wasn’t going to let anything ruin it or let myself be pushed into another unwanted circumstance. I would keep moving forward.

Brett had to be lying about the bill.

TWENTY

Della

Today was the last day. I had a truck arranged, and nearly everything packed. It was all boxed up except for absolute essentials. Yesterday, I’d excitedly told my dad about our new place. I knew he couldn’t understand me, and I knew nothing short of a miracle would bring him home to me, but he was mypersonand there was no way I’d give up hope.

Tomorrow morning I’d say goodbye and good riddance to this apartment. Christina had tried to pull a fast one and wrangle me into a weekend shift knowing full well I was moving. I went over her head and straight to Micha and explained my circumstances, sweating like I’d just run a marathon. But I put my foot down anyway. To my bewilderment, he’d agreed that moving to a better place took precedence.

Take that,Christina.She was furious and I didn’t care. The overtime pay would’ve been fantastic, but I had other priorities.

After I checked and double checked, triple checked, that all my stuff was ready to go and thoroughly labeled with precise details, I arranged everything I’d need in the morning into a pile on top of my dresser. Then, I took a tour of what had been mine and my dad’s home for so long and let the memories rush overme. It was hard to believe we’d been through so much and I never could’ve imagined that this moment would finally come.

While things were so much better for me, my dad was comatose in a rehabilitation facility. It wasn’t fair, he should’ve been here nagging me about proper packing procedures and asking me thirty-six times when the movers would be here and then lecturing the wind about how “nobody knows how to work anymore.”

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