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Life-or-death situations, it seemed, really show you what’s fucking important in life.
Like whatever it was growing between us.
And waking up before Cinna, so I could make coffee that was halfway tolerable.
I made my way out to the common area, finding Joel out cold on the couch, his arm thrown over his face to block out the morning light coming through the open blinds.
Lip was on the floor using the couch’s back cushions as a bed. And, fuck, it struck me as I looked at him curled up tight in a ball like he was fighting off the cold of the streets, that this was likely the most comfortable bed he’d had in months. The safest sleep he’d had in longer.
I had a feeling that now that these kids were here, they were never going to leave. And as much as you would never look at Cinna and think she was the maternal sort, I thought they likely couldn’t ask for a better parental figure. She was loyal, fiercely protective, stable, and didn’t get too riled up about small shit.
“That doesn’t smell strong enough,” Cinna accused in a soft hush, even though Lip was used to sleeping on the noisy streets, and Joel had been sleeping over the sounds of his parents’ screaming matches for his whole life.
“I am looking forward to not having heartburn,” I told her, wrapping an arm around her waist, and pulling her in at my side as we waited for it to finish dripping.
“I can’t let him go back on the street,” Cinna said, gaze on Lip.
“No, you can’t,” I agreed.
“And I can’t make him go back to his shitty parents either,” she said, glancing over at Joel who was grumbling in his sleep.
“No,” I agreed.
“But I don’t have enough room here for kids. I don’t have the disposition for motherhood.”
“I’m pretty sure they don’t need to be sung to sleep and have you kiss their bruised knees, love,” I reminded her. “They just need an adult looking out for them. Think you’re more than capable of that.”
“I know you didn’t want—“ she started, getting cut off by a knock at the door.
She winced, looking over at the boys, but they were still out cold.
“It’s Renzo,” the boss called through the door, making her break away from me, and rush to unlock the door.
Renzo moved inside, his thumb snagging Cinna’s chin, and turning it side to side to check out the damage, before glancing around.
His gaze went to Lip, then Joel, and finally me before landing back on Cinna.
“Seems like we got more to talk about than I realized,” he said, moving toward the kitchen.
“You want some coffee?” Cinna asked, and I suddenly remembered her lack of a third cup.
“From you? No,” Renzo said, shaking his head. “What’s with the kids?” he asked.
“Strays,” Cinna said. “Joel,” she told him, waving toward the couch, “is a neighbor. You should hear his parents wake up and start screaming at each other any minute now. And Lip was the homeless kid who helped you guys find me,” she told him.
Renzo, a man who picked up strays himself, Cinna included, just nodded at that.
“Alright. Well, shit is handled at the apartment building. We decided to take all the bodies. Better not to have cops sniffing around, since we don’t know who that crew was talking to about what. It was a long night. You owe Rico a nice meal,” he said, looking at Cinna.
“Thanks, Renz,” Cinna said, sucking in a deep breath.
“Now why do I get the feeling two of my most trusted capos have been lying to my fucking face about more than just fucking each other?” he asked.
Cinna was not a woman who blushed. But her cheeks went pink at that.
“Renz,” I started.
“I’ll get to you. I want answers from Cinna first,” he said, giving her unnerving eye contact.
