Page 83 of Sweet Lies

The hall is empty except for some of Elijah’s bored looking men, and I almost laugh at the similarities between them and our father’s men. At one time, we had peace, and the men would almost long for a good fight. This lot would be up for another few hours before the shift change.

Nodding to them as I pass, I note that some of the lights have been turned off. The TV is loud as it reaches my ears. Stepping into the living room, I see it’s Andre on the couch.

“You almost died tonight, and you choose to watch baseball, of all things.”

“It was between this andThe Godfather. This is a little less realistic.” He laughs and taps the seat next to him.

“That’s a sad state of affairs. Check your bed before you go to sleep tonight,” I mutter, sitting down.

“What are you doing down here?” he asks, his eyes still glued to the screen.

“Ice cream.”

“Some things never change. I always knew when you had a rough day by the number of containers in the trash the next morning.”

“It’s better for my liver that the liquor you and E prefer.”

He laughed. “True.”

“I should get the ice cream.” I start inching forward but don’t stand.

He nods but is silent for a second before answering. “You should.”

The tension and everything that’s happened over the last few weeks is too much for me. “What are we doing?” I burst out, my fingertips dancing on my knee. I stare at the far corner of the room, not wanting to see his reaction.

“Watching TV,” he clarifies.

I roll my eyes but stay silent. It’s truly been a long few weeks.

Closing my eyes, I breathe out before turning around and lying my head in his lap. My head rests against my right hand on his leg, which the other arm drapes down. My legs are curled under me.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“Watching TV,” I shoot back, grinning.

He chuckles before placing his arm along my side.

“You not worried about my brother walking in?” I ask.

“There are worse ways to go. Just watch the TV, Bec.”

“Okay.”

His fingertips dance over my arm in slow circular motions. My breathing slows, and I drift off to a peaceful, deep sleep, knowing he’s watching over me.

* * *

Jerking awake, I find Claire sitting across from us on one of the oversized chairs. My movement startles Andre. I was so distracted by Claire I failed to notice I was still in his lap and he was sleeping. Sunlight drifts through the windows.

“No gun this morning,” I mutter. “Always a good sign.”

She glares. “Trust me—there are other ways I could kill him if I wished.”

“Morning to you too, Claire,” Andre responds, stretching his arms above his head.

“You two better move before Elijah comes down here and finds you both in a lover’s embrace.”

“This is PG at worst, Claire.” I yawn, brushing my hair from my face, annoyed she’s found us here. We both must have been exhausted not to have moved throughout the night.

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