When do orphans?
If Nick slaughters my heart, will there ever be a happy ending again?
“Millie, if we needed to go back to Aunt Reese’s place for a few days, would you mind?” I ask, my worries taking over.
“I like it at Nick’s!”
“You knew we’d have to go home sooner or later. When your mommy comes home, you’ll go back to your apartment.”
“She coming soon? I miss Mommy,” she says sadly.
“I know you do, baby. I’m not sure when, but I know she’ll be with you, probably sooner than we think,” I assure her.
“Can we go see her?” Millie asks, waving her little hands.
“...I don’t think we can today. It’s a little too late.”
“Why’s the jail phone different, Auntie Reese?” she asks, shifting effortlessly into question time.
I purse my lips, remembering her drawing with the oversized phone.
“It’s not the same as a real phone, baby. It can only make calls on the other side of the wall,” I tell her.
“What mistake did Mommy make? I don’t wanna make mistakes. Don’t wanna get locked up with no friends.”
Heart, meet hammer. It’s a struggle to fight back the panic, the tears, the sadness as I look at her in the rearview mirror.
“Your mom still has friends who love her very much no matter where she is or what happens,” I say.
“Who?” Her little nose scrunches up.
“Me and you...and Quick Nick,” I add. “She’ll be out soon. We’ve been working on it the whole day.”
“Why you wait so long, Auntie Reese? It’s been a year!” Millie says, scolding me with a look.
I smile and shake my head. “Definitely hasn’t been a year. Try again.”
“Has. Do you know how many times Miss Tiffany put me down for naps?”
“A year is twelve whole months,” I remind her. “This is closer to two.”
“Oh. Well, it’s still a lotta months...”
I grin, grateful to have her kid logic for comic relief. It actually makes me feel a little better about whatever’s up ahead.
In a way, she isn’t wrong.
For a preschooler separated from her mama, it’s been a lot.
And for me, a certain man who drops me on my head with every breath will always be too much.
26
Just Call Me Atlas (Nick)
Carmen keeps trailing me like a lost puppy, even as I hang up the phone.
All I can do is hope like hell the police show up before Reese and Millie.
I head back to my room with Carmen following miserably behind me, where she suddenly gives up and drops into a leather chair by the window, across from my bed.
“What was in the email you sent Osprey?” she asks.
No point in fighting it. What’s done is done.
I open the message in my sent folder and hand her my phone.
Her eyes flick over it angrily. “You...you called me an intruder and a spurned psychopath?”
She throws my phone against the wall. I knew that was coming.
“What would you call it?” I snap.
“I’m not an intruder! I have a key. I unlocked the door and walked in. And psycho. Jesus. I’m trying to protect you. It’s all I’ve ever tried to do, saving you from yourself and that little gold-digging bitch of a 'driver.'”
My eyes heat, fixing on her like a hunting hawk. “I said watch your mouth. She’s none of your concern.”
And soon, Reese Halle won’t be my concern, either, I think, anger twisting through me.
Carmen shrugs. “She roped you in good. Ask yourself this. Do you actually have anything in common? If she didn’t work for you, would you have ever met her?”
My jaw tightens.
I don’t answer. I’m exhausted with her mind games.
“And you don’t find it odd that she doesn’t mind shacking up with her boss?” Carmen flings out.
“It took some convincing,” I say quietly.
It did, and no matter how much my life is about to go to complete shit in a matter of minutes, I’ll always have the memories.
She narrows her eyes and gives me a knowing smile. “Right. I’m sure you had to persuade her oh so hard.” Sarcasm drips from her mouth.
“Do you ever shut up? It’s spoiling your surprise,” I grumble.
“Surprise?” She holds her head up and leans forward in the chair.
“You weren’t listening? I called the Chicago PD after I threw Osprey his chicken feed. They’ll be here any minute.”
Her mouth drops. “What the fuck? You did not, Nick Brandt.”
I hold her gaze.
“Oh my God!” She stands. “Are you insane?” She throws her arms over her head and lets them drop, horror curdling her face. “I’ll be arrested for your shit! And...and those stupid marks I left on your arm—”
She’s silent as her eyes stick to the long scratches she left down my wrist, slowly caking over with dark clotted blood.
“But you won’t be arrested for breaking and entering,” I growl bitterly. “I won’t bother pressing charges for that.”
She glares at me, pacing the room like a cornered cougar.