I’m not a fan to say the least, but almost dying unintentionally more times than I can count has made me more cooperative when it comes to going wherever I need to.
“These days are going to be better.” Lucky kisses my neck just below my ear and I can feel his smile against my skin. “I can bribe you with sugar free desserts and make out sessions.”
“I will never miss an appointment ever again.”
Norm looks over at me with a furrowed brow. “Do they make sugar free chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream?”
When I shrug and shake my head he nods sharply. “Then I have a new mission. I’m either going to find it, or I’m going to find out how to make it.”
I laugh as Lucky pushes me forward to start in on my food before he repositions himself close to me.
Idiotis not a strong enough word to describe what I’ve been the last three years.
I know it wasn’t allmeper se, my mental health was really, really bad in the beginning but it was more than that. I’ve prevented myself from having them in my life, from believing my boys would understand, that they’d forgive me and accept everything the way they have, and I don’t know if there is a way I can forgive myself for that.
All I can do is prove to them that I’m worth spending time with, that I’m worth wading through the bullshit for.
I just hope I don’t fuck this up with the secrets I’m still keeping from them.
13
LEONOR
“Yeah, ok. I’ll make sure to call and schedule it. Thanks.” I hang up the phone and stare at the screen until it goes black.
Of fucking course I’d get a phone call like that on one of my better days.
Granted there’s only been maybe four of them, and they’ve all happened since four beautiful babes have been staying with me, but today was a good day and that shit came very close to ruining it.
With a sigh, I smash out my cigarette and stare down into the garden. My eyes are drawn toward a burst of color, a blur of blue and red zipping through the yard, darting along flower beds, and racing toward the trees. Then I see my downstairs neighbor chasing her six-year-old son, the two of them laughing and playing without a care in the world.
I watch for a few minutes as Carson zig zags around a cluster of tulips then bolt straight for a magnolia tree. He ducks down and giggles as Jesse calls his name and pretends not to see him, looking high and low, left and right all while she slowly creeps toward the tree. She calls for him every few steps but Jessequickly looks away when Carson peaks around the trunk to look at her, and he giggles even harder. When he turns to hide again, Jesse hurries around to the other side and sneaks up on him, then he squeals and runs out into the garden as she tickles him from behind.
My heart squeezes as I watch such an innocent and simple interaction between mother and child, my eyes welling with tears I refuse to shed. I won’t mourn for this yet, not when there are still so many questions left unanswered.
“Hi, Miss Leo!” Carson yells as Jesse lifts him above her head and spins around. He starts waving at me as soon as she stops, the little boy flapping his arm so hard he might take flight.
I give a small wave back. “Hi, Car. Hey, Jesse.”
“Hi, Leo.” She carries him closer to the building and looks up, shielding her eyes from the sun as she smiles brightly. “I can’t help but notice your friends are back. Been a lot of traffic coming and going from your floor lately.”
“Yeah. I hope they haven’t disturbed you.” That would be the icing, wouldn’t it? Finally get the boys back and have to kick them out for annoying the young couple and their son who live below me.
“Not at all, hon. I’m glad to see you’ve had company. Mr. Pete gave Car a really neat race car didn’t he, bud?”
“He did, Miss Leo! It’s my favorite color and everything! It’s super cool. Mr. Pete used to have a car just like it.”
Ah.
Pete must have given him the model of the electric blue GTO he had. That was Pete’s baby—the real one not the model—for a long time but he totaled it during thedark yearswhen we thought we were invincible.
Lucky and I were with him when it happened, and I will never forget the look on his face while he sat on the curb staring at that pile of twisted metal. He still loves cars, probably alwayswill but he drives a pickup now, and I doubt he’ll ever get a muscle car again.
Weird that the stoic, slightly asshole-ish Peter Lagrave gave up his model to Carson, who was pretty little the last time they were hanging here on the regular. I may have to bring it up to Lucky later. That feels significant somehow.
I just don’t know why.
Then again, the boys always had a soft spot for Carson.
