Color Me Pretty: A Father's Best Friend Romance

“Flamell isn’t going after you,” I told her with the kind of hardness in my tone that drowned the room. Even if he suggested using her in any way to bear witness to Murphy’s actions, I wouldn’t allow it. I told him as much.

“Whatever the fuck happens, keep Adele out of it. I don’t want her facing any of the assholes her father got caught up in.”

“And if she’d be key to stopping those assholes from inflicting more damage?” he’d countered with a brow raised.

My retort was quick. “She’s been through enough, don’t you think?”

Thankfully, he agreed. Reluctantly.

“The things you’ve had to deal with in your lifetime have been unfair and unjust, but you’ve survived. We’ve been through this. I won’t let you suffer anymore.” The frown I was met with had me sitting beside her, brushing her arm. “Hey. What’d I tell you before? It’s not going to be easy, but we’ll get through it.”

“Not easy,” she repeated dully. “My childhood best friend overdosed on drugs that I may or may not have given her. When you said things wouldn’t be easy, I thought you meant between us. With people’s opinions. Not…this. Not Kat. None of it.”

“Flamell is going to take care of it.” When she met me with a doubtful stare, I had to come clean fully. About everything—every detail I’d held back, every picture Flamell had against Richard Pratt, and the shit that Henry Murphy was caught up in because of him. And now, according to Flamell’s talk with the officers investigating Katrina Murphy’s tragic death, there was little doubt about who was responsible. It wasn’t Della. It all came back to the same man.

Richard Pratt.

Weaving our fingers together, I brushed my thumb across the back of her hand and said, “I wanted to talk to you about this when things were settled. Flamell had every intention of making an arrest by the week’s end. Katrina’s death almost seems like the last nail in the coffin for Pratt.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that he and the people he blackmails won’t be able to get away with the shit they’ve done. The others might get off with less punishment compared to Pratt, but they’ll still be convicted. The NYPD has been after the people responsible for illegal activity in this city for a long time, Della. It was a shame that people had to die for them to get what they needed, but it’s over.”

She visibly swallowed, meeting my eyes at last before wetting her bottom lip. “And Sam? Gina? They’re using too, Theo. What if they end up like Kat?”

“They won’t.” Not if Flamell was moving forward with his plan. I wasn’t going to tell her what he intended to do. The girls were one of the biggest pieces of Kat’s death, of Pratt’s hand in the drug distribution in the city, and we knew that it was only a matter of time before the other people associated with him started singing like canaries to get plea deals and lessen their own sentences.

“They’ll get help, Della.” I’d bet a lot of money that they wouldn’t get another option. That didn’t mean they’d stay clean if they were forced into a rehabilitation facility and released after a court allotted sentence. That was up to them, like Katrina’s choice to take the drugs that’d ended her life. Whether Della believed it or not, she wasn’t responsible, and holding onto guilt, onto what-if, would only send her under.

“You can’t put blame on yourself for what she decided to do. Understand me?” I could tell she didn’t, but she nodded. “Look at me. I’m not going to let you do that to yourself. Whatever happens from here on out is up to you. To us.”

She blinked, looking at me but not really seeing. It was like the thoughts in her head blinded her. “What if we left?”

That took me by surprise. “Left?”

She withdrew her hand. “What if we left the city? Left it all behind. The drama. The past. The things people know me for. Could it be that easy, Theo? I don’t think I could survive another trial. The press, the tabloids, I don’t want to be put through that again if my father is brought up.”

“Is that what you want?” My business was here, but I could do things remotely. Hire somebody to deal with things at the office. Fuck. I could sell if I wanted to. If it meant walking away with the girl, making her happy, I would.

“I want…” She paused, staring off again like she was lost in thought. Whatever was on her mind, it consumed her because I doubted the picture frame of us at her graduation was that interesting to look at right now. “I want you. I want seclusion. Quiet. Distance. Maybe it’s selfish, but I want to escape this place. Not the way Kat wanted me to or Sam or Gina. I want to be me, and I don’t think I can be that here. Not anymore.” Licking her bottom lip, she lifted a shoulder. “I don’t think I was ever me because nobody allowed me to figure out who that was.”

“I think that sounds good,” I admitted. Better than good, but I didn’t want to scare her with how much I wanted to kiss her and tell her we could leave tonight if she wanted to. I knew she wouldn’t.

Her brows lifted. “You do?”

“I love you, Della. If you want to leave, we’ll leave. I’ve thought about it for a long time and there was only one person who kept me here.” I smiled. “It wasn’t Dallas, sweetheart.”

The smallest smile curved her lips as she leaned into me, her forehead resting against my shoulder as she exhaled. “I need to talk to Sophie and Lydia. And…do you think it’d be a bad idea if I went to Kat’s funeral if she’s having one?”

I kissed her head. “I don’t think that’d be a bad idea at all. I’ll go with you. We’ll keep an ear out for a service, okay?”

“You hated her.”

“I hated her family and what they made her into. Not the same thing. Even if it were, I’d still go to be there for you.” Her lips brushed my collarbone. “Doesn’t matter the situation, you need me, and I’ll be there.”

“What if I always need you?”

“You’re stronger that.”