Page 62 of Bitter Queen (Advantage Play 4)

“What?”

“I think about the good stuff. Sometimes, if you try hard enough, you can replace the bad with the good. You just have to stay strong and not give in to the darkness.”

“How do I do that, Queena?” he whispers.

“Think of happy thoughts.”

“Like in Peter Pan?” He quirks his brow in disbelief.

“Exactly,” I chuckle before bopping him on the nose with my index finger.

“And that really works?”

“Not all the time,” I admit. “But it definitely helps.”

Peeking up at me, he asks, “What’s your happy thought?”

An image of D immediately comes to mind. His eyes are alight with fascination as he pops another kernel of popcorn into his mouth while staring at an über-cheesy Hallmark movie. The plot might as well involve aliens for how foreign it is to a guy like him, but he’s as entertained as ever. And I know it’s because he wants me to be happy and will do everything in his power to make it happen, even if it involves sitting through a predictable, sappy love story.

“Queena?” Will murmurs, pulling me back to the present.

I toss my arm over his skinny shoulders and tug him into my side. “Get some rest. I’ll hang out with you here and keep the monsters away, okay?”

With a loud yawn, he scoots down then rests his head on my lap while his gangly body spreads out across the floor. There’s a king-sized bed a few feet away, but I don’t mention it. He looks too exhausted to move anyway.

“Thanks for being here, Queena,” he whispers as his heavy lids flutter closed.

“Anytime.”

Running my fingers through his brown mop of hair, I think back on how much our worlds have been flipped upside down in such a short amount of time. But there’s no use getting lost in the past and what coulda, woulda, shoulda been. Diece taught me that. And now, I’m going to do my best to pass on the knowledge to this kid who, in the blink of an eye, got dealt a pretty shitty hand too.

My head rests against the wall behind me as I fight off the exhaustion that overwhelms every inch of me. I’m crashing. Hard. After the adrenaline rush from earlier, I’m not exactly surprised that I feel like a drained battery, but that doesn’t stop me from fighting to keep my eyes open. I’m not sure how much time passes before I realize I’ve lost the battle. Caught between oblivion and a meditative state of peace, a panicked voice filters in from the hall.

“Q? Q, where are you?” Heavy footsteps stomp around the hallway, searching for me before I register what the hell is going on and whisper-shout, “Diece! Diece, I’m in here.”

The pounding ceases. “Q?”

“In here.”

Will’s door opens seconds later to reveal a disheveled Diece. Pressing my index finger against my lips, I whisper, “Shhh.”

His eyes widen as he assesses my position and the boy lying in my lap before he squats next to me. “What are you doing in here?”

“Did you honestly expect me not to check on him?” I counter.

“If I’ve learned anything from you, it’s that you’ve managed to exceed my expectations on multiple occasions,” he mutters under his breath.

“Liar,” I quip with a smile. “I’m a mess.”

Amused, he tucks my hair behind my ear. “We’re all a mess in our own way, Q. The fact that you can even own up to it says something.” He pauses then adds, “Thank you for confiding in me and Kingston today.”

“I didn’t exactly have a choice,” I point out.

“There’s always a choice. And if I had to have lost my hand to prove that to you, I would’ve.”

“But that’s quite the consequence, don’t you think?”

“I didn’t say there weren’t consequences to our actions,” he clarifies with a wry smirk. “It just depends on the price you’re willing to pay. How’s he doing?”

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