Page 100 of Snake
“Not twenty grand a month, we’re not,” Zaxx shot back. “Only other thing different is the Pavilion job, but that should be a plus, not a minus—unless MWGP is kicking our invoices down the road.”
When Zaxx pinned the possible source of the problem on MWGP, Kellen relaxed at once. But Cox tensed like he’d been tased. He reacted forcefully enough to move his chair; the arm hit the table sharply, making it shake, and everyone turned and stared at him.
Cox stared back.
There was one thing left he gave a fuck about, and that was the deep pool of bitter poison that filled his chest at each and every thought of Autumn—and those thoughts rolled through him day and night.
He was furious and disgusted, mostly with himself, but also with her. For a sliver of a second, he’d let himself consider the possibility that he might be able to—might want to—share his life with someone. But, of course, the universe had snatched that away from him before the notion had fully settled in, swept it out on the same current that carried his mother away.
Then he’d spent a week or however long like a zombie, giving up all control of everything in his life to Autumn, letting her handle his business, his schedule, letting her even fucking bathe and dress him, letting her run his mother’s funeral, all of it.
What a piece of runny shit he was. Incapacitated by a death he’d known for the past twenty years could come at any time.
But she’d done it! She’d grabbed the reins of his life like it was hers to drive. He couldn’t remember her even asking if it was okay with him. That whole week or however long was a blur in his memory not merely because he’d been flattened by what his mom had done, but because Autumn had stepped in instantly. While he was still sitting beside his mother’s body, Autumn was already making decisions about his life.
He hadn’t given up control, she’d taken it.
Or maybe he had dropped the reins, but she’d grabbed them before they hit the ground.
Fuck that shit straight to hell. Nobody ran his life but him.
But in that sliver of a moment, that night and first light of day before Tally called and the illusion shattered, Cox had felt an ache in his chest so deep and hot he’d thought he’d burn. When Autumn had told him she was more afraid of missed chances than of disappointments, he’d thought, yes. Yes, me too. I don’t want to miss this with you.
It haunted him, the memory of her lying beneath him, her long ginger hair tossed all about the pillow, her copper eyes sparkling in the early morning light, telling him that he was significant to her. That he meant something. Especially at night, it haunted him.
“Y’okay, brother?” Showdown asked, yanking Cox back to this moment, this place.
He didn’t answer. Showdown gave him a few seconds, then turned back to Badger.
“MWGP is paying us in the thirty-day window,” Badger said. “So if we’re light, it’s not that. Kel, look into that, see if there’s something not squaring up. I want to know by Friday.”
“I’ll help,” Zaxx said.
“I don’t need anybody’s help to do my own fuckin’ job,” Kellen groused.
“It’s a good idea, though,” Badger said. “Get an extra pair of eyes on it. Yeah, Zaxx, help Kel.”
“On it,” Zaxx agreed.
Kellen made a clearly irritated shrug and hunched back in his chair.
There was something going on there, something slightly interesting, but before Cox could start sorting the pieces in his head, Badger derailed him again.
“As long as MWGP’s on the table, I’ll update there. The Pavilion project is on schedule and everything looks good so far, but there’s a new wrinkle.” Badger’s focus sharpened so obviously on Cox, even Cox noticed—and so did everyone else. Again, they all turned his way.
Badger cleared his throat. “I talked to Autumn this morning. MWGP is doing some reorganizing—they’re opening a satellite office in St. Louis. She’s gonna run it. For now, she’s the only staff and we’re the only contractors out of that office. It’ll grow from there, but Autumn wasn’t interested in telling me the rest of her plans.” He paused, focused even more obviously on Cox, and said, “You gonna be okay with that, brother?”
“She’ll be around more, I guess?” Darwin asked, his eyes on Cox.
Badger shrugged. “I don’t know. She didn’t say, and I didn’t ask. Do we care if she is?”
Cox had the strong impression that Badger was specifically asking him.
He didn’t answer because he didn’t have an answer. He might have lost the capacity for speech.
The news that Autumn was coming toward Signal Bend, relocating closer, began to tear Cox apart at once. All the pain and anger and loss and disappointment he could still feel was attached to her name and every one of the few memories he had of her. Emotions that could not touch him at any other moment of his life filled him with fire at the mention of her. He wanted none of that, thus he wanted none of her.
But the want filled him, too. Want like he’d never known at any other time in his life. The loss of her was an infected wound.
