Page 13 of Clean Slade
Something sank in my stomach, but I didn’t care to find out what.
“You’ve got kids?”
“No, but I’m studying to be a teacher. Also…brothers. A whole football team of them. My dad died when I was young, so I helped my mom raise those devils.”
“I’m sorry.”
“What for? My brothers being devils? That can’t be helped, I suppose. Although God knows I’ve tried.” His lips quirked to the side into a pretty lickable smile.
No, King. No. Not lickable.
“I meant about your dad.”
“That could have been helped, but what can you do?” I narrowed my eyes in confusion. “He died in Afghanistan. Fighting someone else’s war.”
I nodded in understanding.
Silence rose from every corner of the room as if growing from the shadows.
All I wanted was to run. To kiss him and run. If our encounter from all those years ago had managed to sustain me, I was sure a kiss could give me a similar gift to treasure while on the run.
“How are you feeling?” His question rang in my ears, making me dizzy. Maybe I was getting tired. But how could I sleep when my life was turning upside down. Again.
“What doyouthink?”
“Don’t worry. Whatever happens, I’m—we’re here. We’ll do everything we can to stop him.”
“Are you trying to make me feel better or worse?” I huffed and put my tea on the coffee table. “I don’t want any more people getting hurt. I almost got my best friend mixed into this bullshit. I can’t—”
“You shouldn’t worry about us. We’re big boys. We can take care of…ourselves.” I didn’t quite get why he paused or what had tripped him up, but it didn’t matter.
“I’ve made up my mind. First thing tomorrow morning, we’re out of here.”
“I’m sure there’s a better way—”
“There isn’t. You think I want to leave? I have a life here. So does Mac. This is our home. But if staying means that motherfucker hurts everyone I love before he hurts me and takes my daughter, my choice is easy.”
These people might’ve known who Tony Ferraro was, but they didn’t know what he was capable of. They didn’t know my father like I did.
“If this is your home, then we’ll fight for it.”
I looked into his eyes, still in awe of how beautiful they were, and I wanted to believe him. I wanted to believe it was possible.
“I think I’ll go to bed,” I said. “I’m sorry we took over your room.”
He shook his head.
“Don’t be. It’s the least I can do. Besides, do you know how many rooms this place has?”
That isn’t an invitation.
That was what I tried to convince myself. It wasn’t an invitation to join him in one of the other rooms and relive our moments from a decade ago.
I wouldn’t—couldn’t—do that, no matter how tempting it was.
“We’ll figure it out. I promise,” he said. “Get some rest, and we’ll come up with a plan.”
I nodded, fully aware that my only plan was to run.
