Page 67 of Where We Found Our Home
He opens one eye and wrinkles his brow. “Yeah?”
“I love you.”
He opens his other eye, smiles brightly, and pulls me into his chest. “Good night, Angel.”
I drift off to sleep in his arms and dream of a future where life is fair and two people who are meant to be together can actually keep each other.
Eddie
Do you see what you’ve made me do, doll?
You make it so easy.
I could’ve picked you off on your way to the airport with those idiots, but I decided to follow your firefighter instead. I could’ve easily ended him with one bullet to the head. He’s lucky I went for the tire.
I’ve grown tired of our game, doll. You’re not taking me seriously enough. Do you know how it makes my blood boil watching all these fucking assholes march into that coffee shop to “protect” you from me? How fucking ridiculous. There’s the firefighter, the younger version of the firefighter, the Magnum P.I. wannabe, the suit, and the burly angry one. Then there’s the bartender, the coffee shop owner, and even her fucking daughter. They all waltz in there every day just to keep you in their sights. They’re worse than the bitches you left at home.
How does it feel? To know that you’ve put these people you claim to care about in my crosshairs. You sit on your high horse, but you’re the most selfish person I’ve ever encountered. I told you what would happen if your friends got in my way. And look at you now. Your circle’s even larger now. Their blood will be on your hands. I hope you choke on it.
I hope you read the message I left for you. Our time is coming.
Lincoln
I’m not naive enough to think that because Ciara and I have confessed our true feelings for each other that everything will work out in the end, but I have been riding a high the last few days knowing we’re on the same page. It’s still surreal exchanging “I love yous” regularly now.
I pull out my phone to call Sasha. She’s opening the cafe back up today, and I know the brick incident got to her more than she let on.
“Hey, Linc,” she answers on a sigh.
“Hey sis. How’s today going?”
“Good, I’ve got my little helper today. We’re getting everything ready to open.” To anyone else, she would sound confident, but I hear the slight shake in her voice. She’s nervous.
“Are you ready to reopen?”
“Yeah. I mean the window has been fixed. I’ve just been taking a few ‘me days’ but my baby needs me. No, not you, baby. The store. Well yes, I know you need me too but I meant…ugh, you’re too grown.” I laugh as I listen to Nevaeh give Sasha shit on the other end of the line. “Your niece is too much. Do you know she asked me if she was going to get paid for helping me today? I almost whooped her right there.”
“Stop the cap. You have never whooped Nevaeh a day in her life.”
“I know, I know. Doesn’t mean I haven’t thought about it. I just don’t need it. I’ve got the look.”
The fucking look. It’s a look all the women in my family have perfected that tells their kids they’ve pushed the limits too far. When you get the look, you know you’ve fucked up and you better run as far and as fast as you can and don’t come back until you’ve gotten your shit together.
“You do have the look down.”
“Hey, is Ciara avoiding me? We’ve been texting like normal, but when I asked her if she’s coming to the store to write today, she said she had other stuff going on. How much of that is bullshit?”
I asked Ciara if she was heading to Sasha’s at some point, and she was adamant she wanted to just stay home today. I think she’s feeling guilty for the damage done to Sasha’s store, and she knows Sasha was freaked out by the whole thing. I hate the idea of her being vulnerable at home alone, but I can’t force her to go. But regardless, what I won’t do is throw Ciara under the bus. Sister or not.
“Nah, I think she actually had some errands to run.”
Sasha is silent for a moment. “Hmm, okay, good answer.”
“Why do you say it like that?” I’m not sure why I even ask because I’m pretty sure I don’t want the answer.
“Because I know you’re full of shit. But we raised you right, you took your woman’s side. Good. I’ll just harass her ass later.”
I couldn’t help but laugh at that, and the laugh became louder when Sasha once again shut down Nevaeh’s request for a swear jar. We’ve been having this talk since we were teenagers. “Sasha, you’re only one year older than me. You did not raise me.”
