He’s giving me an out, but deep down, I’m sure I can’t take it. I need to say what’s on my mind.
“Still, I need you to know I took a walk in your shoes, when you didn’t come to bed last night. I get it. Chess is special. It’s been special since the first game we played. I’d be pissed as hell if I walked in on what you did. I get it.” I trace the iron edge of the table. “I’ve always done what I had to do to survive. And sometimes, playing chess was the only thing getting me through. It made me feel good because it made me feel closer to you.”
It should be easy, but I have to fight to look directly at Moses. His green eyes linger on my face, and there’s no anger or sharpness in them. There’s something else, something that fills me with warmth, even more than the heat of the sun on my skin.
“Ah, mama. I get that. More than you probably imagine. We all do what we gotta do to survive, including me. I’ve been doing the same thing. Missing you like crazy.” He nods at the seat I’m standing beside. “Sit. Join me.”
I lower myself into the chair, and his confession knocks loose more words I never expected I’d have the chance to say.
“I’ve missed the hell out of you too, Moby. It didn’t even seem real sometimes, you know? Two weeks is nothing in the grand scheme of things, but you left a mark on me I couldn’t erase, no matter how hard I tried sometimes.”
He reaches out to cover my hands with his. “I know. I didn’t want to wait fifteen years to come back to you either. Trust me, that was never the plan. But . . . sometimes, shit doesn’t work out the way we expect.”
The air is sweeter this morning, and somehow it’s easier to breathe. Easier to let things go too. “Coulda, woulda, shouldas will haunt us if we let them. I’m not down with that.” I meet those expressive eyes of his again and ask him point-blank what’s on my mind. “So, what the hell do we do now?”
He squeezes my fingers. “You tell me, Mags. What do you want?”
“That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it?” I ask, taking another deep breath to think about how I want to answer it. I don’t want to rush or make a mistake. I want to treat this like it’s special and fragile, because it’s new and means everything to me.
Before I can speak, my phone buzzes on my lap, and I jump.
“What?”
I lift it with my free hand and show it to him. “My condo building manager. Sorry, wasn’t expecting any calls. It can wait.”
He shakes his head. “Answer it. Could be important. You never know.”
Even though I don’t want to, I tap the screen and accept the call. “Hello?”
“Magnolia?”
“Yeah, Carl. What do you need?” The condo isn’t home anymore, but it was a good steppingstone for me, and Carl was always helpful when I could get ahold of him.
“I hate to interrupt your morning with bad news, but . . .”
I sit up straighter in my chair, and Moses leans in to listen. I lower the cell and tap the button to put it on speakerphone so we can both hear whatever bad news Carl is about to deliver.
Moses reaches out, snags my free hand, and squeezes.
“But what?” I ask, giving the guy across from me a squeeze back.
“Someone broke into your condo last night. Neighbor across the hall noticed the door open when she was leaving for work. She went to close it and saw some fucked-up shit, so she called me.”
I can picture the older woman, mid-fifties, who lived across the hall, but she never made eye contact with me or said hello.
“What kind of fucked-up shit?” Maybe a sex toy fell out of a box when the movers were there. Hell, they could have left the door open too. Shit happens.
“Well, first, it’s basically empty—so I hope you already knew that.”
Jules places a cup of coffee on the table for me, and Moses quietly thanks him before he goes back inside.
“Yeah, I’m moving. I told you that. The sale is closing soon.”
“Okay, good.” Carl sounds a bit more relieved. “Well, you should be able to get it all cleaned up before that.”
“Cleaned up?” My tone jumps an octave, and Moses grips my hand tighter.
“There is . . . something written on the wall. At first, I thought it was spray paint when I went up there . . . but I don’t think it’s spray paint.” He hesitates for a minute and then hacks, almost like he’s gagging. “Excuse me. I . . . I think it’s blood.”
A chill tears through me, but somehow I manage to say, “I’ll be right there.”
“That’d be good. Cops should be here any minute. I called them when I saw it.”
“Thanks, Carl.” The hits just keep coming, and more than ever, I’m tired of always having to survive every day. Will there ever be a time when things are easy, and I don’t have to be on guard every second of every day?
“Sorry, Magnolia. I wish this was a better call.”
“Not your fault,” I say and hang up.
As soon as the call ends, Moses is on his feet, pulling me out of my chair and against him. He wraps me in those strong arms and holds me as I shake.
“It’s gonna be okay, mama. We’ll handle whatever comes together. You’re not alone in this. Not for a single fucking bit of it.”
Hearing those words washes away the dread building inside me with a flood of relief. The twisting in the pit of my stomach calms enough that I don’t feel like I’m going to vomit on the table at the visual my head keeps creating. That’s when the answer to the question Moses asked before we were interrupted by the phone call hits me. I pull back a few inches so I can see his face.
“That. That’s what I want, Moby. I want a partner. I want someone to stand by me while we weather the storms. Because my life seems to be filled with fucking storms.”
He lowers his chin to press a kiss to my forehead. “That’s exactly what you got, mama. Whatever comes, we’ll take it together. Now, let’s go handle this shit. It could be hours before the cops come. If there’s anything left you want from your place, we’re getting it now.”
Tension drains from my body at his statement. I’m not alone. I don’t have to figure this all out by myself. I could, if I needed to. But, damn, it’s nice to know that I don’t have to.
“Thank you.”
“No thanks necessary. Let’s get going.”
Forty-Three
Moses
When we get to Magnolia’s old building, the cops are already there. I don’t take it as a good sign. With Cavender sniffing around yesterday, I would put money on the fact that he’s on alert for anything that relates to Magnolia, because he’s trying to pin the dead body on her.
When we step off the elevator onto her floor, I spot him walking out of her condo.
He locks onto me and Magnolia immediately, and the expression on his face clues me in to the fact that the man is pissed.
Magnolia stiffens when she sees him, and I pull her tighter against my side and squeeze. She’s a badass, but even the toughest people need to lean on somebody every now and again. I’m happy to be that someone for her. If she wants a partner, she’s got the right man, because there’s no way in hell I’d let her face this ever-growing mountain of shit alone. Never.