Sweet Hope (Sweet Home 3) - Page 66

“When I said I was going back home, Remo tried to stop me, he knew Gio needed me to keep the crew strong. I was the main reason most of our rivals left us alone. He knew they’d be vulnerable without me around. So I knocked him the fuck out to get away, came back to Tuscaloosa and handed myself in. I knew Remo would be after me. No one fucked with Remo. Then after I organized for Gio… to be taken down, Remo made sure I got a message inside that if I got out, I was as good as dead. I fucking ruined them all. They’d saved me from my papa, from that shit life, and now Remo was gonna make me pay for fucking everything up.”

Ally winced as I mentioned Gio’s death, and maybe mine, but she ignored it and asked, “And Remo, he knows you’re out of prison now? He knows you’re in Seattle?” Her voice had gotten higher and higher the more she spoke.

I shrugged. “He’ll know by now, no doubt. Some of the guards were easy to buy off. Someone will have sent word.”

“Then you have to tell someone!” she half-shouted, her cheeks pale and her face panicked. “The police, someone.”

I cupped her face to calm her down. “He ain’t got the money to get out here and he’s wanted by the feds. He won’t dare risk it. He doesn’t know where in Seattle I am, and he definitely doesn’t know about the exhibition and… Elpidio and all that shit.”

“Christ, Axel…” Ally said, her voice cracking. “I… I’m so afraid for you…”

My gut twisted at the pain in her voice. “Don’t be. I’ve gotten through tougher shit. People have wanted me dead for years. I’ve gotten real good at dodging bullets.” I tried to make it sound like a joke, but Ally wasn’t biting.

Taking the whiskey, I shoved it in her hands. “You better take a drink.”

Doing as I said, Ally knocked a shit load of the amber liquid down her throat. But when she lowered the bottle, I could still see the concern in her expression.

“Fuck, Ally,” I said and, taking her arms, pushed her down beside me and crushed my mouth to hers. Within seconds she’d melted under me and I pulled back. “Don’t over-think all this.”

Her eyes filled with tears and her fingers wrapped around the long hair falling in front of my face. “You never get a break, do you? There’s always something that haunts you.”

The sadness in her voice cut me deep. Swallowing back the lump that was clogging my throat, I said, “I did this all to myself, carina. I caused the war, this is the fallout. It’s karma.”

“You deserve better,” she whispered. I could see how she much she believed that in her expression. I had no idea what I did to deserve her.

I closed my eyes as her words sank in.

“I got more than I deserve. One brother is married to a chick he loves more than life and he’s playing in the NFL. The other is heading to the NFL. I got a woman, and I’ll never understand it, who fucking wants to be with me. And I get to create what I love for a living. What more could I want?”

“For people to trust you. For your brothers to know you’re a sculptor, for your brothers to accept you again… for you to be at peace, to be happy.”

Shuddering a breath, I said, “I ain’t sure any of that will ever happen, and if it doesn’t, it’s fine. I got more than most folks got.”

I could see Ally wanting to say more, but I really didn’t wanna talk about this shit no more. She could see it my expression.

“Lay beside me,” she said, with an exasperated sigh.

Slumping down to her left, I cracked a hint of a grin when she lifted my arm around her shoulders and cuddled in.

“Crazy night, huh?” she said, her finger tracing down the rosary tattoo on my chest.

“You could say that.”

“They’ll come round,” she said, keeping that positivity she just seemed to exude.

I stayed silent. I wasn’t so convinced.

“Axel?” Ally said quietly.

“Mmm?”

“Will you now tell me how you begin sculpting? You know, in prison? I’d love to hear more about the creative side of you.”

Warmth filled my chest as I thought back to the first day I walked into the prison classroom. Some guy was there to teach us art. The warden, fuck, and the state, hoping it would help us cons deal with our anger.

Ally shifted in my arms to rest her chin on her fist as it lay on my chest. Her eyes were filled with anticipation and excitement. I was about to open up to her about my art. And I would finally talk about it. It was a while since I’d seen that look in her eyes. When I was just Elpidio to her it was there all the time. Now she knew I was Axel, most of the time she looked worried or, worse, sad.

“You really wanna know all this boring stuff?” I asked.

Ally nodded against her fist. “Nothing is boring when it comes to your sculptures. Finding out how an artist began his journey is always the most interesting thing to me. How he found the spark that unleashed his passion.”

“Okay,” I said jokingly, like she was weird.

Ally nudged me, laughing. “I know I’m a geek, but I wanna know all the same.”

Her free hand reached for my hand which was casually lying on my stomach. She threaded her fingers through mine. As I looked down, Ally beamed a huge smile.

“How I got started…” I said, and taking a deep breath, I began. “I’d just been shanked and was in the infirmary recovering.” I shook my head at the memory. “Shit, I was in there for what felt like forever; a ton of guards and psychologists coming in day and night trying to get me to talk, to rat on my old crew, but I wouldn’t. First rule of surviving in that place was to keep your damn mouth shut. So I did. I didn’t talk to no one, was constantly alone with my thoughts. It was laid up unable to move where really started questioning shit. You know, what I’d done in my life, all the wrongs, not many rights… and my family, what I’d done to the only three people who’d ever really gave a shit about me—unconditionally. But the more I thought about my past, the more the guilt flooded in and started tearing me apart.”

Tags: Tillie Cole Sweet Home Romance
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