"When you think they’re me," I said wryly, surprising myself with the lack of bitterness to the words.
He cringed. "Fuck, that sounds so bad."
"Well, it doesn’t sound good," I confirmed with a laugh.
It was his turn to be shocked. He arched a brow at me. "You just waiting to slap me or something?"
"No. But I’m not going to keep flogging a dead horse, either. You know you’re lucky I’m letting you back in my life. You know you’re lucky that I forgive you. You know that if I even catch a sniff of your dick going anywhere near another woman, I won’t ever let you back into our home."
"Our home?" he repeated softly, like that was the only thing I’d said that mattered.
"You know it is."
"I felt that way, but I didn’t… I just didn’t want to presume," he rumbled, his voice deep and dark and, Jesus, tantalizing.
I had to watch out for his sobriety too now, and August had never seemed so goddamn far away.
August—I needed to make a countdown on a calendar so I could count off the days.
Was it the first of the month?
Or a day in particular?
"I have no desire to fuck any woman but you."
"I know."
"You do?"
"What did Kendra do to piss Rex off? I know she was listening in on his conversations—"
"How do you know that?"
"She knew about Cyan having trouble at school. Said you told her that, but I know you wouldn’t."
"Ain’t spoken to the bitch since the last time I was in West Orange, and even then it was to tell her to get the hell away from me."
"I know."
"Good." He grunted. "Giulia’s more moody than usual. Apparently just looking at Kendra makes her projectile vomit."
A laugh escaped me. "I have good friends."
His nose crinkled at the bridge. "Projectile vomiting on demand? I don’t think so—" My arched brow said otherwise. He rolled his eyes. "That goddamn Posse."
"My friends," I corrected.
"Your friends," he grouched. "SL will deal with Kendra."
"I’m sure he will."
"She won’t be darkening our doors again."
"Good." I studied his wet clothes. "We need to get you into something drier."
"I’ll be fine."
Of course, he wasn’t.
Over the next few days, he caught a cold, which turned feverish. It was when he wouldn’t accept pain or cough meds that I really recognized his dedication to his sobriety, when I accepted that I had to watch out for him as much as he did for me, and it was also then when I realized that Dr. Janowicz was wrong.
Storm was working to his own schedule, his own timetable, and I knew why as well.
Cutting me out of his life would only cause harm, because more than the drugs, more than sex, more than anything else in this world, I was Storm’s addiction. The one thing he couldn’t live without. And when it boiled down to it, going cold turkey from me would hurt him worse than anything else could. Do more damage than anything else ever would.
I saw that when I moved his feverish butt back into my bedroom, and he curled around me like I was a living teddy bear.
I saw that when, even though he was back in my good books and he got back to normal, he didn’t stop doing laundry or mowing the lawn and taking out the trash.
He showed up.
Every day.
And I knew, now we’d gotten over this blip, he always would.
Thirty-Five
Storm
PAST - Two years ago
Comin’ Home - City and Colour
"I told you never to contact me again."
I stared at my mother, hatred in my eyes because it burned through my soul.
She was acid. She tore through everything, wrecking whatever she touched, destroying what she neared.
"Your sister’s stopped answering her cellphone."
I stared at her, trying to resonate that this was the beautiful woman who’d given birth to me.
It had always seemed so crazy that such an evil bitch could be so beautiful. Now, however, she looked like the hag she was. Only fitting. Maybe there was some justice in the universe, after all.
"She’s got sense, then." I snorted out a laugh as I leaned into my handlebar. "I don’t know why she didn’t cut you off years ago."
"You hate her as much as you hate me, but the difference is, you came when you thought she called."
"I told her to fuck off, but when have you ever known Scarlet to obey?" My mouth tightened.
I didn’t like that Scarlet was one of my weaknesses, but as much as I loathed her, I couldn’t see her out on the street. So when I’d received a text telling me that she was homeless and had no money, I’d had to act.
As for this bitch, I didn’t share the same loyalty.
"Should have realized something was fucked up about this meeting when you wanted me to come here." I stared down the narrow alley that, even though it was midday, was dark enough to make me squint at her. "What’s the plan? Hit me on the head and take off with my bike then sell it?"
"That sounds like a good idea, son."
"Thought it might. Was hoping you were dead."
"Only the good die young, Asher," she taunted, stepping closer to me, close enough that I could see the way her skin hung on her face, how the bones were prominent, her eyes sunken.
She looked like a corpse in the middle of decomposing.
Not a pretty sight.
"That’s true. Did you hear Rene died? Not sure why she was taken and you fucking weren’t, but hey, you’ll die soon by the looks of you."
"Rene’s dead?" She cackled. "Never did like that sanctimonious bitch. Always sticking her fucking nose in. Never could keep it out of things that weren’t her business."
My hands tightened on the bars. "She kept your kids alive when you were rotting in jail." Although this new look gave rotting a whole different definition. "For nothing else, you should be grateful. Of course, that’s if you were a regular mother who gave a damn about her kids in the first place." I scoffed just as she scrunched up her face.
"Just like her. You always were a sanctimonious fucker too, Asher. Always thinking you were something better because you were book smart—"
"That’s a fucking lie," I drawled. "I never thought I was something better. Thanks to you and dear ol’ Dad screwing shit up for me."
She stilled at that. "Scarlet told you?"
"She did. Prince." I shook my head. "Fucking bastard. He’s the one who got me hooked on this shit." I laughed a little. "I guess he wanted to see me suffer as well. Every addict loves a fellow sufferer."
Mom ground her teeth together. "I didn’t want her to tell you that."
"Why not? Doesn’t make a lick of difference to me."
She sniffed. "Because it’s my business. If I’d wanted you to know who your father was, I’d have told you myself."