Page 27 of Property of Shotgun
“It matters,” I whisper. “I just don’t want you to get so lost in revenge that you forget there are now three boys who have lost their dad, and they would be devastated if they lost their uncle too.”
“I won’t stop until everyone pays for what happened to him.”
I nod. I wouldn’t expect anything less from him. “Just make sure you always come back. Bloody shoes, bruised knuckles, and all.”
We’re counting on you.
Whether I like it or not.
“Are you going to wake him to give him the medicine?” Shotgun asks as I dump a handful of ice cubes in a Ziplock bag.
“He just fell asleep before you got here. I don’t want to disturb him.” I walk over to the kitchen island where he’s sitting. After he took off his shoes, and the t-shirt under his hoodie, I put them both in the washing machine. Now he only has the hoodie on, and it’s zipped halfway, revealing all the tattoos that trail from his neck and disappear to God knows where. “Can you place your hands flat on the counter? I’ll grab another bag of ice.”
“It’s fine, they don’t even hurt,” he grunts.
He takes the ice from me and presses it against one of his hands. I frown because that isn’t doing anything for the other hand. Without giving him a chance to argue with me, I go about my original plan and fill another Ziplock with ice.
“Jade, it’s late, you should get some rest. Is Legend still going to school in the morning?”
I take a seat next to him and press the ice pack to the top of the hand that’s holding the ice against the other one. “Eh, if we wake up on time. It’s not a crime if he misses a day, and I think we can all use a break from the grind.” I frown as I stare at his hand. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to go up and see Killian, though. I have to call the NICU and see what they suggest since I was exposed to whatever bug Kaiden has.”
I lift my eyes to his. “I owe you an apology.”
“For what?”
“I’ve been horrible to you, and I keep telling myself I’m going to do better, but…I don’t know… I have all these conflicting emotions, and I don’t know what to do with them. It’s just easy to lash out on you, because you take it, and that’s not fair to you.” I hold his stare. “You have to stop letting me walk all over you.
“Jade—”
“I’m serious, Shotgun. You deserve better from me.”
He doesn’t say anything, he just stares at me for a beat too long before he looks away. “If you need someone to lash out on, I rather it be me than anyone else.”
“You’re a sadist.”
The corners of his mouth curve slightly. “Maybe.”
Neither of us say anything for a long while after that. The ice starts to melt and he takes the bag from me, walking both over to the sink. “I’m going to take off. If you decide to send Legend to school, just call me. I promise to keep my phone close by.”
“Your shoes aren’t dry. I didn’t even take them out of the washing machine yet.”
He combs his fingers through his hair, an exasperated sigh leaving his lips. “Well, fuck. We probably should’ve thought of that.”
My eyes shoot to the clock on the stove. It’s close to five in the morning. The man looks exhausted. He has dark circles under his eyes, and no fucking shoes. He shouldn’t have to drive all the way to the other side of Brooklyn, only to come back here in a couple of hours if Legend wakes for school.
It dawns on me that this all could’ve been avoided if I had just let him stay in the side apartment. It was a temporary fix that would’ve made both our lives easier, but because I’m a stubborn bitch, I shut him down and made life even more difficult than it had to be.
But maybe it’s not too late to fix that.
“If you still want to move into the apartment, you can,” I blurt. “Temporarily of course. Maybe just until I get clearance to drive again?”
I don’t want the kids to get used to him living here. They’re confused enough.
His eyes widen slightly as he stares at me. “I think you’ve lost your mind. It’s five o’clock in the morning, Jade. I ain’t moving shit.”
I roll my eyes. “I don’t mean right now. I don’t even know what it looks like in there.” Irish is only gone a month, but it’s been at least three since anyone went in there. Occasionally, Irish would disappear in there to smoke a joint, but I can’t remember the last time he did that. “It definitely needs a good cleaning.” I pause, returning my gaze to him. “Sleep on it. For tonight you can stay on the couch in the den, and then tomorrow we can figure out the details if you want to. They’ll be rules of course.”
He leans against the sink, crossing one foot over the other as he folds his arms against his chest. “Rules, huh?”
