Breaking Mr. Cane (Cane 2)

“Fuck, Q. We stop talking for, like, two years and your life goes to shit. I guess you can’t live without me, huh?” She was teasing, but her smile didn’t touch her eyes. There was no spark in them, no humor. They were dull, and in the depths of those cloudy irises, I could tell she was crying for help. She wasn’t just here to tell me what had happened to Aaron. Like she said, she could have called for that.

Lora rubbed her arm, staring at the floor again.

“If you’re not here for Aaron, then what’s going on with you? Must be serious for you to call and show up at my place around the same time.”

Her eyes flashed up to mine and I swear her face had paled. She ran a hand up and down the backof her arm, over the tattoo she’d gotten to cover one of her worst scars caused by a cigarette burn.

“I—I talked to Mom the other day,” she said, avoiding my eyes. “She sounded a lot better.” She took a lengthy pause. “She also mentioned that she’d gotten a letter in the mail.”

“From who?”

Lora’s eyes swooped up to mine, and in them I saw panic and worry swirling like never before. “From Buck,” she answered, and my fists immediately clenched. “Mom has been writing him, Q. She initiated it. She was dumb enough to believe his lies and to think he was getting better, so she sent him my address because he wanted to ‘check on me’, and then I get this.” She pulled out a piece of folded paper from the pocket of her jean jacket, handing it to me.

I opened it up rapidly, and while reading every word, fury burned at my fingertips.

Hey, bitch. I don’t have much to say to you. Your mother told me all about how you’re still with some fucked up drug dealer, and since I can’t seem to get your worthless brother to take me seriously or get him to respond to my letters, I thought you could deliver a little message to him for me.

Do me a favor and tell your piece-of-shit brother that I’m coming for him and my million-dollar company. Tell him to be ready, because I ain’t backing down without a fight.

Your favorite man, Buck

I picked my head up, staring at her, lips parted. “This is real?” I rasped.

She nodded. It was all she could do.

“Fuck,” I muttered.

“That’s not the only thing,” she murmured, focusing on the paper I had clutched in hand. “Mama told me that since the jail he’s in is overcrowded and he’s been out of trouble in there, he’s getting released in four to five months.”

“What?” I barked. “Are you fucking kidding me? I’m in the same fucking state as she is and she couldn’t tell me that shit?”

“You know why she didn’t tell you, Cane. She knows how you would have reacted, especially with her writing to him!”

“That’s bullshit! He needs to be in there for fucking life after what he did to us! To her! How could she fall for his shit?”

“I know,” she mumbled. “And I really came because Aaron isn’t around, which means his people aren’t around to look out for me. I have no one to watch my back there. I—I couldn’t fucking sleep. I was so worried Buck would come looking for me first or I—I don’t know. I’m freaking the fuck out, Q, and right now you’re all I’ve got.”

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Fuck. I know, I know. You did the right thing by coming here.”

Her shoulders relaxed and I pushed off the counter to place a hand on her shoulder. “Take your stuff upstairs to one of the guest rooms. We’re going to visit Mama tomorrow. She has some serious explaining to do.”

“But what about Tempt? You read the letter right? He’s coming after it. You’ve worked hard on it, Cane, but if Buck comes out and starts telling people it was his—”

“He can say whatever the hell he wants, Lora. I have lawyers. Heavy hitters too. He won’t be able to come near us.”

She pressed her lips, like she was highly doubtful. See, that was the thing about Lora. She always doubted me until I proved myself. I don’t know why she was that way. Everything she’d asked for, I’d done, other than give her ex-fiancé a job at my company.

When she needed a car, I bought it. When she was tired of seeing Mom laying face flat in her own puke, I was the one who took Mama to rehab and paid them twice, while getting her to agree to stay.

I guess doubt was what kept her on her toes. Doubt was what made Lora, Lora. Like miracles, she didn’t believe in them unless she could see one happen for herself, and sadly a miracle had never happened for my little sister.