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Well, I guess that’s one way to show your gratitude.
The trust I’ve put in Crosby—and I do still trust and believe in the man I love—isn’t enough to stop the sadness and betrayal tainted pain from rolling through my soul. It almost brings me to my knees, but this is not the time and place to show an ounce of weakness.
Crosby’s head turns toward me so quickly that I almost wince, because that couldn’t have felt good. When he jumps up so quickly that I’m almost afraid he’ll trip over his own feet and starts to move toward me, I hold up my hand. I don’t want him to touch me. If he does, I’ll start to cry and now is not the time.
I glance around the room, needing to know who, exactly, gets to witness my shame and misery. The only people in the room who seem to be taking any pleasure from the situation are the angels present. Everyone else is glaring at Apostle.
Well, I suppose that’s nice.
My eyes roam over the man I love, knowing that I’m going to get over this. After a thousand apology orgasms.
One thing I know about my man is that he would never hurt me deliberately. He, literally, isn’t built like that. He also has a soft heart that wants to do good, even when he has to rely on death and violence to do good.
Guilt and regret have been eating him from the inside out since the night of the rescue and I’m sure that he’s not the only brother in the room who has been feeling the same way. Those emotions can make people blind to what is right in front of them.
But that’s why I’m in his corner. He’s mine to protect the same way I’m his to protect.
With a flick of my hair over my shoulder, I dismiss Crosby and move my focus to the woman who is now standing slightly behind my man. As she starts to reach for his arm, I make a clicking sound with my tongue, and she freezes.
Crosby’s looks down at her. When he notices how she’s holding her hands, he takes a step away from her. That’s great and all, but she felt comfortable enough to touch him just a few minutes ago. And he didn’t stop it.
My price for forgiveness should probably be two thousand orgasms.
“Hello,” I address the woman, a smile plastered to my face that is as fake as it can get while still being welcoming.
“Hi,” her greeting is timid, but it’s all an act. I can see the malicious gleam in her eyes. She glances around, but mostly between Apostle and me. Her voice starts to shake, “Wh-wh-who are you?”
Crosby narrows his eyes at her as she gives him big doe eyes, clearly expecting that he would come to her rescue even though she’s not in danger. Well, not yet anyway. Time will tell on that one.
“I’m Sioux,” I tell her simply.
“My old lady,” Crosby rumbles and takes a step closer to me. When I meet his dark eyes, I can see the way he’s pleading for me to not push him away.
The woman, I think Crosby said her name is Tara, gasps, “What?” Just as my man wraps his arm around my shoulders and tucks me into his side, fat tears start to roll down her cheeks. “You have an old lady? Why didn’t you tell me?” I look up at Crosby to see genuine confusion on his face and it takes everything in me not to roll my eyes. “You told me we were going to be together after I do rehab or counseling or whatever.”
I swear everyone in the fucking room gasps and I’m almost positive that I smell popcorn being made in the kitchen. I give the onlookers a death glare, but I know it’s not going to do a damn thing. Which is fine because I would rather have them here to have our back than not.
Tara is a snake.
Now, that doesn’t mean she didn’t get caught up in a tough situation and needed help. Both things can be true.
Crosby mutters, “What the fuck?” Anger washes over his features, the confusion chased away completely. Poor man. He just had his rose-colored glasses yanked off his face. Every word his lips form is a thinly veiled threat, “I never said any such thing. I have been encouraging you to do rehab or counseling because you need help. Clearly, more than I thought at first,” the last sentence is murmured, but everyone still hears it clearly.
Scythe lets out a bark of laughter before he slaps his hand over his mouth and turns around. Which is all fine and good, but the way his shoulders are quaking is a dead giveaway about what is really going on over there.
“And,” Crosby adds, his voice ice cold, “why would I tell you about my personal life? You’re a person we’re helping, sure, but that’s all you are. You’re not my family. You’re not even my friend. I felt bad for you because no one should be traumatized. That’s it.”
Tara seems to fold in on herself. It does make me feel a little bad, but at the same time, this is the bed she made. Now she must lie in it. Her mouth opens and closes a few times.
I let out a sigh as Crosby’s arm tightens around me. Lucifer steps forward, a look on his face as he meets Crosby’s gaze that could be ‘I told you so’ or ‘you’re an idiot’. He clears his throat, authority oozing out of him. “I do need to know which you choose because I need to make arrangements for you.”
“I guess I’ll go to rehab,” Tara sniffles. She casts one more look at Crosby before focusing on the DSMC Prez. There’s hope in her voice, “Can it be in another state?”
Crosby lets out a sigh of relief and he’s not the only one. Lucifer’s grin isn’t unkind, but it’s sure as fuck doesn’t hold the warmth that I’m used to seeing. “Of course.”
Cherise slips her arm through her husband’s when he points toward his office to get her to move in that direction. The knowing look Cherise gives me tells me the queen of old ladies has no intention of leaving her man alone with the young woman.
Probably for the best.
