“You find another, don’t watch her walk away,” I said.
He laughed and it wasn’t like he usually laughed. It was like Colt’s bitter laughter earlier that night and it also pressed to my flesh like a blade but it broke through and my blood beaded the edge.
Then he said, “Ain’t another like you.”
Then he disconnected. It took me awhile to flip the phone closed and when I did my hand dropped to the mattress and I pressed my cheek to my knee.
I felt the phone slide out of my hand and the bed moving with Colt. I heard my phone hit the nightstand then the light went out. Then his hands were on me, pulling me back, down, tucking me against his side, wrapping his arm around me, holding me close. I draped my arm around his stomach and I held him tight. Wilson settled into the small of my back, knowing with cat knowledge I needed his presence there, his warmth, closer, all for me, not at our feet.
We were silent. There were no words for times like these.
At least I thought there weren’t.
I thought that before Colt said, “What’d I say, baby? I’m the fuckin’ lucky one in this bed, seein’ as he watched you walk away which meant you were free to make your way back to me.”
That’s when I started crying and Colt’s other hand came to my hair, sifting through it, pulling it away from my face then again and again before he curled his fingers around my neck and kept them there. I didn’t know or care if it was cool to cry about another man while in my man’s arms.
Lucky for me, Colt didn’t seem to mind.
Chapter Ten
Reece
Colt’s phone rang, I knew it from the tone and it jarred me awake.
Keeping me at his side, he reached for it and I snuggled closer as he started talking.
“Colton.” Pause. “Yeah, right.” Pause. “Where?” Pause. “Got it. Gotta get someone in for Feb then I’ll be there. Yeah. Later.”
I lifted up to an elbow, pulled my hair out of my face and watched as he used his thumb on his phone, the light of the display illuminating his face.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Robbery,” he answered, hit a button and put the phone to his ear.
I settled back into him, resting my head on his shoulder and draping my arm around his stomach, mumbling, “Bummer.”
I was half asleep when he flipped his phone closed, moved and then I heard buttons being pressed.
I slid my cheek along his skin to look up at him as he put the phone to his ear.
“What?” I asked.
“Your Dad’s not pickin’ up, phone’s probably not close or he’s out,” Colt replied then he said, “Darryl?”
I got back up on my elbow and stared at him.
“Yeah, listen, I gotta go out on a call and Jack’s not answering. Morrie closed and I know you’re just in too but they need a break from this business and someone’s gotta look after Feb. You think Phy would be cool with you comin’ over and crashin’ on my couch for a few hours?” Colt paused and I not only wondered what the answer would be but also when Darryl had been added onto Colt’s Person Who I Trust to Protect Feb List.
Phylenda, Darryl’s wife, was a good woman, a strong one and chock full of attitude. She had to be, she knew anytime her man could fall off the wagon, do something stupid and, with a strike three, be gone for a good long time so she’d be responsible for taking care of two kids who lived with the knowledge that their Dad was in prison again. She knew this because she’d done it before.
She didn’t come into the bar much because their kids were seven and nine and couldn’t come with her. Not to mention she had a full-time job too and, with Darryl’s hours, did most of the child rearing. And lastly, she didn’t have people close to help out and she tended to keep herself to herself. Though I saw her, just not often. We closed the bar annually for a staff Christmas party where family was invited and we gave out bonuses to Darryl, Ruthie and Fritzi. At the Christmas party, as a grand finale, Morrie disappeared (Dad used to do this) and came out as Santa Claus and gave all their kids gifts, or, in Fritzi’s case, her grandkids. We’d also close when we had our summer barbeque for close friends and the staff was always there. Dad did it for years and Morrie carried on the tradition. Not to mention, I was one of the few people Phy would let watch her kids. Not that I did it often, sometimes when Darryl got his shit together and took her out and other times when she’d had enough and needed to go by herself to a movie.
I understood her and I liked her. She liked me back and there were not many of those kinds of folks on her list so I’d always felt honored by it. Still, I wasn’t sure she’d want Darryl to get pulled into this shit.
“Thanks, Darryl, see you soon.”
There it was. Phy didn’t mind Darryl being pulled into this shit. Another indication about how they both felt about me.
“Hope the bar keeps this turnover,” I said to Colt as he flipped shut what I saw now was my phone likely because he didn’t have Darryl programmed into his. “I’m thinkin’ bonuses should be a lot bigger this year.”
Colt didn’t answer. He just curled up, taking me with him then he twisted and put me down on my back.
Then he touched his lips to mine and said, “Go back to sleep, Feb. I won’t leave before Darryl gets here but, when I do, I’ll be gone awhile.”
My hand aimed at his neck, I had good aim luckily so my fingers curled around it before I whispered, “Okay.”
He touched his lips to mine again then moved to pull away. I dropped my hand before he twisted back and looked down at me.
He didn’t say anything so I asked, “What?”
“This happens a lot, honey, crime doesn’t occur just nine to five.”
I felt what he was saying to me like each word wrapped around me, twining me in velvet lined rope.
He was telling me my future, what it’ll be like, me being in his life.
God, I hoped that rope never dropped away.
“Bars aren’t open just nine to five either, Alec,” I said quietly.