He forcibly relaxes his facial muscles. “Mya is a touchy subject for me,” he admits after a few beats of tense silence.
“Why?” I ask, turning onto the road that leads to Thornton Heights, because I’m sensing this is more than just grief.
“I’ll tell you later. After we get Mom settled.”
I nod, wetting my lips, my mouth suddenly feeling dry. “Do the guys know how bad this is?”
“Yeah. They are usually with me when I’m hauling her out of places. Believe it or not, that place is one of the better ones.”
A shudder works its way through me. “No one should have to live like that.”
“Mom has always battled demons, but after Dad died, she just gave up.” He looks out the window, his Adam’s apple jumping in his throat. “Apparently, her life means that little to her and I’m not enough for her to fight to live.”
“You are enough,” I say in a soft voice, as so many things make sense now. “Addiction is selfish, but that’s all on her. Not you. From what I’m seeing, you are doing everything you can for her.” I knew Alisha was a junkie, but I never properly stopped to think about what that meant for Galen. No wonder, he’s bitter and lashes out. He’s in so much pain. At some point, he’ll have to start prioritizing self-love and self-care before his mom’s addictions ruin his life for good.
“Except I’m part of the very organization supplying the drugs on the street.” A look of disgust crosses his face. “I go to great lengths to keep drugs out of the house, only throwing parties when she’s not there and making sure there is no cash lying around, but she always gets her hands on it. I’ve threatened dealers, and Sinner has helped me handle a few, but she’s fucking resourceful.”
Addicts usually are.
“Can’t you get out?” I ask, already half-knowing the truth.
“I wish I could, angel.” He leans his head against the side of the window, looking at me through the mirror as I turn into his driveway. “But I need the money to take care of us because we don’t have money coming from any other source. And, besides, this is a life choice. One decided for me before I was born.” He glances down at his mother, his features softening as he caresses her gaunt cheek. “The best we can hope for is to gain control of The Sainthood in the future and make changes. Quit with the illegal shit and set up legitimate businesses.” A ghost of a smile graces his lips. “We need more guys like Theo with the smarts to bring us to the next level.”
It’s a tall order because you don’t change an organization as twisted as The Sainthood so easily, but I admire his determination and the inherent goodness that exists in all of them.
It’s quite miraculous when you think about it. Especially for Saint and Galen because they had shitty upbringings and no one or nothing to guide them except for the thread of decency and morality that resides inside them. I can only imagine how conflicted they must be. Because some of this is in their blood, and it’s all they’ve ever known, and it would be so much easier to just go with the flow. My admiration for them increases ten-fold because they are battling for what is right even though it’s the harder road to travel.
I pull up in front of the neglected mansion, killing the engine.
Between us, we get Alisha into the house.
She has only made it through the front door when she wakes up, vomiting all over the tile floor. An older lady, with gray hair tied up in a bun, wearing an austere navy dress and tights, rushes to meet us. “I’ll clean this up if you want to take her upstairs,” she says.
Galen nods, waiting for Alisha to finish dry heaving on the floor. Her dress has ridden up her ass, displaying the black thong she’s wearing. I pull her dress back down, and Galen shoots me an appreciative look.
Alisha falls in and out of consciousness as we carry her upstairs.
Galen holds her upright as I undress her to her bra and thong and wash her in the shower. We are all drenched when we get out, but I don’t complain, stripping out of my wet clothes and accepting the hoodie, T-shirt, and leggings he hands me.
The shirt and hoodie are a little on the big side, so I’m guessing they belong to Galen and the leggings are too short so I figure they are Alisha’s, but I can’t complain because I’m warm and dry. I slip my feet into my Vans, thankful I remembered to remove them in time. I tie my wet hair up into a messy bun and return my attention to Alisha.
Galen looks up at the ceiling while I remove his mom’s wet undies, pat her skeletal body dry, and help her floppy limbs into pajamas.
Galen carries her to the master suite, carefully laying her on the bed, propping her up against the headboard.
I look around, noting the freshly painted walls, luxurious, heavy velvet drapes, and the mahogany king-sized bed dressed in a plush gray, pink, and white comforter.
Galen takes such good care of his mother, only I’m not sure she deserves it.
I stand in front of the window, eyeing the overgrown maze outside with a new lump in my throat.
“Giana?” Alisha calls out, and I turn around as Galen stills, his hand clutching a comb as he drags it through her hair.
My chest tightens, and the lump in my throat grows bigger. “It’s Harlow,” I say, forcing the words out. I perch on the edge of the bed. “Giana’s daughter.”
Her dull green eyes skim my face. “You look so much like her.” Her voice lowers. “Like him too.”
Galen stiffens, and it confirms my suspicions. Whatever Galen’s issue is with me, it’s got something to do with my father. I’d stake my life on it.
Galen promised he’d give me his full truth, and I’m not leaving this house until I know it all.
CHAPTER 26
Harlow
AFTER WE DRY Alisha’s hair and tuck her in bed, I watch Galen hook a drip up to her arm with a heavy heart for all he’s had to endure. She looks so frail in the big bed, curled into a fetal position as she sleeps. A raspy wheezy noise rumbles from her chest that doesn’t sound good. Galen presses a kiss to the top of her head before we quietly slip out of her bedroom.
He leads me downstairs into the kitchen. “Hungry?” he asks, moving toward the refrigerator.
“Not especially,” I admit, because, honestly, the events of this morning have cost me my appetite. Not to mention I’m still quite full from the delicious late breakfast Theo prepared.
“Shoo, boy,” the kindly gray-haired woman says, rushing into the kitchen. I assume she’s the housekeeper he mentioned. She pulls on his elbow, and his head pops out of the refrigerator. “It’s a lovely day. Take your girlfriend out to the garden. I’ll call you when lunch is ready.”
“She’s not—”
“That sounds wonderful,” I say, cutting across Galen. “And I’m Harlow. Pleased to meet you.”
“I’m Mrs. Murphy, but you can call me Maureen.” She squeezes my hand. “And it’s lovely to meet you too, dear.”
Galen snatches my hand. “Come on.”
We walk hand in hand outside, and I swat my anxiety aside. If we’re going to confront the ghosts of our past, there is no better place to do this. “Can we talk in the maze?” I ask, and he slams to a halt, his eyes drilling into mine.