CJ huffs and puffs out each breath as he walks over to the front door and holds it open for them. All the while his parents stare at him with absolute rage in their eyes.
“You’re such a waste,” his father whispers, and fuck, that’s... heartless. Then he goes to the little table by the entrance and grabs a car key.
“That’s my car, and you don’t get to use it,” CJ snaps, and takes the key from his father’s hand before he can react. “Rich, would you mind helping me bring these bags out to the street?” He’s backto speaking normally. “They’re not very agile, my parents, and I don’t want them trying to sue me because they fell on their asses dragging them through the gravel.”
“How do you expect us to get anywhere if we can’t take a car?” his mother screeches while Rich and I move forward to push them out without actually having to touch them. “And you,” she says, looking at me now. “You’re going to regret it if you keep hanging around our son, wanting to get your hands on our money. There’ll be consequences if you don’t stay away.”
I just ignore her, and CJ does the same with her last statement.
“You have a phone,” he tells her simply when they’re right outside the door. Rich walks past them with the bags and then just keeps walking. “Use it.” Then he slams it in their faces.
I stay still and quiet for the whole ten minutes that CJ spends glaring at the closed door.
What the fuck was that?
Rich comes back in eventually, but through the kitchen, so we both turn around quickly when we hear his footsteps from behind us.
“They got picked up by a taxi.” Rich shrugs. The gun’s nowhere to be seen and that makes me feel better but I’ll definitely have questions for him later. “I’m gonna go,” he says slowly, and points his thumb behind him to where his room is.
I nod and he just gives CJ one of his barely-there smiles.
CJ looks lost inside this house, looking at the far wall like it’s going to explain what just happened.
All I know is that just beyond this room, there’s a fancy-ass sitting room that has a little cart fully stocked with all the drinks I could possibly want. I don’t think I’ve actually ever wanted a drink more than right this second.
Because if what I just witnessed is true...
Fuck, how did CJ ever forgive me for saying all that shit about him? My lame-ass apology was definitely not enough to make up for the fact that I mocked his relationship with his parents. A relationship that’s clearly nothing like what I thought it was.
The unforgiving twist of guilt in my gut is painfully familiar, and it only makes me want to drink more. But I can’t. I won’t let myself drink, because the way CJ’s eyes are fixated on something I can’t see has a more vicious effect inside me than the guilt.
“I don’t know what to do.” I whisper the truth. My words echo in the room like a shout. “Or what to say.” I keep going when CJ doesn’t react. “Or how to make things better.” That last one gets me a reaction, but not the one I ever expected.
CJ snorts and turns to look at me with the saddest smile I’ve ever seen in my life.
“Not to worry. You can’t possibly make things worse.”
He’s just saying that because he didn’t know me a year ago. If there’s one thing I’m better at than anyone else it’s my capacity to always make things worse. I’ve been a pro since I was a kid for fuck’s sake. But CJ doesn’t need to hear about any of that right now.
“Do you wanna talk about it?” I ask gently. The best way to get out and through this is for me to shut up and listen.
“I don’t know,” he whispers, again with that sad smile.
“Come on.” I hold out my hand for him, and the butterflies in my stomach are terrified when he takes it. This is definitely not the good kind of nerves.
I lead CJ up the stairs and into the bedroom we’ve been sharing. Then I take off his clothes, methodically, and grab his pajamas—because the man has them and wears them every night. Something I teased him about of course. He’ll like wearing them and maybe draw some comfort from that.
After he’s dressed again, I lead him to bed and climb in behind him after taking off my own clothes except for my briefs.
My heart melts when he rolls around and buries his face in my chest and throws his arm over my waist to hold me tight.
We stay like that for a long time. So long that I think he fell asleep—that is until he starts speaking out of the blue.
“My mother’s father is pretty infamous. I don’t know if you’ve heard about him.”
I think hard about it but come up empty. “I don’t think I have.” My voice comes out scratchy.
“Well, he was already rich, already an asshole, and already the biggest racist and bigot alive, but then he went ahead and got into oil.” CJ lets out a big breath while I process what that must mean. “The Clemson’s have always been shitty people as far as I know. Their business has always been someone else’s suffering for profit, and that didn’t change with Jerry Clemson. He had a daughter and then had a son so he could have areal heir.” He sneers the last words. “But my uncle is even more of a piece of shit than Jerry was. Jerry got his son’s charges dropped countless times. Assault, sexual assault, rape, whatever you can imagine, he did it before he was twenty-five.