Come To Me (Owned 3) - Page 43

You’re always safe with me.

“Vic?” She slurred her words. “Have I died at last?” I ignored her question, stepping out into the cool Santa Barbara night. I set her down on her wobbly feet and she leaned against me. I wasn’t worried about her remembering me; her brain was blacked out.

My worries lay beyond the night, to what would become of Lennox now that I was “dead”. I’d thought I was doing everyone a favor by faking my death. I’d thought they would be safer.

“I told you to put Cocoroons in your pantry.” Seven thumbed his lower lip, displeased. “When I got there, the pantry was on fire. Tell me the truth, did you even bother to buy the Cocoroons?”

“Are you serious?” I asked, refusing the shot Seven bought for me. We sat at a motel bar. Seven had paid for the room and I was trying to stop the rising debt toll.

“Have you tried a Cocoroon, Vic?” Seven dropped his shot, signaling for the next. “They’re delicious.”

“I owe you my life,” I said, getting to the point. My leg wasn’t infected and that was largely due to Seven carrying me out of the building and washing it out. “I owe you the lives of my loved ones, and I imagine that’s a pretty big fucking debt for The Boogieman.”

Seven grinned, his pearly whites looking more like canines. “I only have one thing I want from you.”

“That’s it?”

“No one said it was small.”

I saw the outlines of Lissie and Zoe just as a car pulled up outside the club. I settled Lenny against the wall and melted into the shadows, waiting for them to notice her. When they put her into the car, I watched it disappear around the corner and a thought crystalized itself in my being. I could never leave Santa Barbara, not as long as Lenny lived and breathed.

Shrouded by bushes, I sat beneath the window of Lissie and Zoe’s apartment. It was early but winter had shortened the night so the moon was out. This had become my weekly routine, stalking Lenny like some peeping tom.

“What have you eaten this week, Nox?” Zoe’s voice drifted through the shutters and down to me.

“Chocolate chips and soda.” Zoe didn’t respond, but from Lenny’s next response, I could guess her facial expression. “What, Zoe? Are you gonna tell me that chocolate chips aren’t nutritionally dense?”

“That’s exactly what I’m going to tell you,” Zoe said, her tone sharp.

“Well, my thighs would disagree with you,” Lenny spat. “They’re feeling pretty dense.”

“If you’re going to stay with us,” Zoe continued, “I’m not going to let you eat yourself into an early death.”

“Why?” Lenny’s voice sounded closer, so I could tell she had stood up. “What the fuck do I have to live for anymore?”

“That is so goddamn selfish, Nox. You have me, you have Lissie, you have Grace, you have your goddaughter, you have the business you built from scratch.”

Every atom, every cell, every goddamn thing in my body wanted to climb up and look through the window. I yearned to see what was going on with Lenny, but I didn’t have the right to do that, not any more. I had forfeited that right. I was only sticking around to make sure nothing mortal befell Lennox.

She was in pain, but she wasn’t dying, and so I had to stay crouched and listen. I heard the sound of shuffling and hard, stomping footsteps.

“Fuck this, I’m going to Grace’s.”

“Nox…”

“It has barely been a month, Zoe.” Lenny sounded on the verge of crying. Her tears would drown me. “I get it. You’re strong and shit. What if Lissie died? Are you telling me you would be eating kale and Brussels sprouts?”

“Of course not. That’s not what I’m saying, and you know I haven’t been making you do that. I’m saying it has been more than a month and you haven’t had any liquid besides whiskey and soda. Your diet is candy and chocolate. You need to start crawling back. You have people who are willing to help pull you up.”

Her words were whispers, but the wind caught them. “Maybe I don’t want to be pulled up.”

I was about to stand up and throw everything I’d done away, just so I could pull Lenny to me, when a face across the street caught my attention. There was nothing entirely remarkable about the person. Maybe that was the point.

“Well how the fuck do I do that?” I exclaimed, limping across the room to get away from Seven.

Seven ran a hand through his long blond hair. Buzzed on the sides, there was something elegant about it, which was a complete fucking contrast with the rest of him. “I don’t want to put ideas in your head.”

I squinted and raised a brow. “Sure you don’t.”

Tags: Mary Catherine Gebhard Owned Romance
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