Page 95 of Running from Drac
“Can we talk about something else? Anything else…”
He opens his mouth to speak, but the bell rings behind him, alerting us that our time has come and gone.
“I gotta go. Keep your head up, Eddie. Don’t let this shit stop you from marrying Amber tomorrow. Promise me.”
“I promise, but only if you promise not to drop the soap.”
He flips me off. “Fuck off, asshole.” But then he grins, both of us wishing we were close enough to hug. I need him right now. I just didn’t realize how much until I saw his smiling face on the screen.
“Don’t get shanked,” I shout after him, but he’s already walking away, leaving me alone to stew in my own thoughts.
I hang up the phone and lean my head against the wall of the visiting room, letting the fluorescent lights bleed into my skull. Wesley’s grin still lingers in my head, but so does the fear that he tried to hide from me.
He’s not okay in there.
And I’m not okay out here.
Without him I feel lost and empty, but without me…
Fuck, without me Wesley really is as good as dead.
Amber’s waiting for me at my house when I get home. She’s been here since her fight with Pippa and Poppy, and even thoughI know it’s bad luck to see her before the wedding, I let her stay, knowing she’s trying to hold herself together.
“How’s Wesley?”
“He looks like dogshit. But somehow the prick is still smiling. Apparently, they’re taking bets on who can get to him first.”
“Get to him?”
I give her a look. The one where I peruse her body from top to bottom, and she gasps.
“No.”
“Mmm, hmm. I need to get his ass out of there.”
“Didn’t he see the judge today? What they sentence him for?”
“Five years. Three if he’s on his best behavior.”
Amber grimaces. “He’s fucked then.”
“Royally.”
She shakes her head. “I’m so sorry, Eddie.” Maybe she can see the turmoil in my eyes, or the worry that’s giving me wrinkles, because she wiggles her hand into mine and lays her head on my shoulder.
“I feel like this wedding is cursed.”
She’s not wrong, but I’m not about to agree with her.
“Babe, don’t talk like that.”
“I can’t help it. Everything that can go wrong, has. What’s next? I keep waiting for another shoe to drop. I just have this bad feeling I can’t shake.”
“Me too.”
She turns to me, her hand caressing my stubbled cheeks. “Maybe we should—”
I cut her off with a fevered kiss, one that has her blushing the second she pulls away. “Don’t talk like that,” I beg her. “Please.”
