Page 65 of Lucifer's Hounds

“Just waiting to wake up from this dream,” I whisper.

“It’s not a dream, I promise.”

“Yeah, yeah. We’ll see.”

My mind wanders to yesterday.

“What were you doing yesterday? I know you said you didn’t want to talk about it, really. But, give me something at least.”

Cass sighs, the weight of his head resting fully on my shoulder.

“Club shit,” he says.

“I can live with that.”

Cass growls playfully pretending to gnaw on my earlobe. I quickly press my head to my shoulder to hide my ear from him. He releases his hold around me and scans the hotel room.

“We almost ready to get out of here?”

“Abso-fuckin-lutely,” I smile.

Cass finishes stuffing everything into the suitcase and we’re out the door in five minutes. It doesn’t take long to get on the road to the airport. The guy on the other end of the line is someone from another club or something because after he said something about club shit, Cass immediately took him off the speakers of the car and switched to his phone where only Cass can hear him.

I zone out, glancing around at the cars passing us until Cass’s voice rises.

“I already told you, Keith. It’s not gonna fucking happen. You have no business with Mack! If we won’t work with you on your name alone then I damn sure ain’t putting my fucking name on the line for you. We aren’t friends, Keith! Get that fucking shit out of your head!”

His face is a light shade of red and whatever Keith says in response fuels his anger more. He hangs up the phone and sets it on the center console before turning the radio up.

We don’t speak for the rest of the ride to the airport. Not because I think he doesn’t want to talk to me, but because I want to let him cool off from whatever encounter just occurred on the phone. It’s the respectful thing to do. At least in my mind it is.

My phone chimes in my lap with a text from Mom.

Mom: Thinking of you today. Love you sweetie!

I think for a moment on what today is and why Mom would be thinking of me. March Eighteenth. How could I forget? Today isthe three-year anniversary of my dad’s death. Three long years without him. I swallow back the lump in my throat that only seems to be getting larger with every passing moment. Partially because I miss him, but partially because I was so caught up in everything around me that I forgot that was today.

“Who did it?” Cass asks.

“My mom,” I say quietly, afraid if I speak any louder that my voice will crack.

“Hi, mom,” Cass waves.

I quirk a brow in his direction. “Oh, we’re saying hi to family now?” I ask.

“Why not?” he asks.

I sigh.

“What’s wrong?”

“Mom reminded me what today is. It’s the three-year anniversary of my dad’s death. So, I feel like shit for forgettingandI miss him.”

“I’m sorry, babe. In your defense, you probably didn’t even know what day of the week it was much less the date. Your days got mixed up from the late flight and sleeping all day yesterday.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

Cass reaches over and takes my hand in his. It’s comforting to have someone try and understand what you’re going through. He kisses the back of my hand then sets it back down on the center console. I reach over to the radio to scan through the stations while Cass navigates us through the light traffic.

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