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Bowie looked up and glared at me. “The coach told me I had to work hard and make good grades if I wanted to succeed. That’s what I’m doing.”
I gritted my teeth to keep from asking what else the coach had to say.
Luckily, the doorbell rang, signaling the arrival of the pizza.
Food was grabbed, and Lolo and I were out the door without a goodbye from Bowie.
Danyetta’s gaze promised she’d talk to him, and I looked away, knowing how that talk would go.
Poorly.
After making sure that Lolo was seen safely to Dayd’s door with Dayd letting her in, I drove home and thought about the woman that was at my house.
The woman that would be there forever if I could make it happen.
I found her on the couch, asleep.
She looked like she hadn’t moved an inch around the house since I’d been gone. Even her empty Frosty cup was on the coffee table, next to her unfinished fry.
I grimaced and walked farther into the house, making sure to lock the door, arm the alarm, and then start getting my nightly routine taken care of. My nightly routine consisted of checking every single window, door, and nook and cranny to make sure everything was locked, and there wasn’t a thing inside my house that could fuck me up while I was sleeping.
I’d had one instance too many when it came to sleeping and not protecting myself during prison, nearly losing my life when it happened.
Absently I touched the scar on my neck, the one you couldn’t see unless my t-shirt was off. It was thick, jagged, and the one place on my entire body that was blemished.
I didn’t even have any tattoos, though I didn’t see them as unsightly. Just a method in madness. Sitting down for any longer than I had to sounded like torture.
After getting everything checked out, I came back out into the living room with a large blanket that I used when Bowie stayed over.
Walking over to the couch, I covered her up, then sighed.
My eyes took in her sleeping form greedily. Fuck, how I’d missed her.
I’d had no clue how hard I was repressing my feelings and need until she was back. Having her inside my house? That was even more torturous. I wanted her in my arms, in my bed, where I knew she would be safe.
Instead, I would be leaving her on the couch.
Reaching down, I smoothed back her hair and said, “Oh, Mama. What am I going to do with you?”
The universe didn’t answer me.
Neither did she.
I left her on the couch to sleep and went to my own bed.
Not even the humid Florida fall air, seeping through the only open second-story window with bars, could warm me up after thinking about all the things that could’ve gone wrong today.
Or how badly I’d fucked up by not finding her again when my every instinct said to.
I just hoped that one day she would forgive me.
CHAPTER 12
I’m sorry I called you an asshole. I thought you knew.
-coffee cup
MORRIGAN
