Craving Cecilia (The Aces' Sons 6)

“Talked to your dad,” I said, changing the subject. “After breakfast, we’re gonna put the stuff from your condo in his garage. Siah and Eph are coming for breakfast, and we’ll head over after that.”

“You don’t have to do that,” she said, turning carefully so we were face to face. “Let the rest of the guys do it.”

“I don’t mind goin’ over there,” I replied.

“Bullshit,” she shot back. “You don’t like being there any more than I do.”

I huffed as I got comfortable, folding my pillow in half to prop up my head. “It’s not my favorite place in the world, but I’ve been to worse ones,” I conceded. “It’s not like we’ll be there long. Just unloading the truck.”

“I’m going with you,” she said firmly.

“Stay here and rest,” I argued. “Let the ladies watch Olive so you can get some real sleep.”

“I don’t want real sleep—” Her words cut off as she realized how ridiculous she sounded. “I want to go with you,” she said instead. “Plus, I need some of my stuff. Clothes and shoes, at least.”

“Fine,” I said, brushing her hair back from her face. “But I think Olive should stay here.”

“Do you think something’s going to happen at my parent’s house?” she asked, leaning up a little in alarm.

“No,” I replied, running my hand along her back until she settled back in. “But if something did, she’d be safer at the clubhouse.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” she said with a sigh. We lay there quietly for a while, just breathing the same air, and I felt something inside me settle for the first time in years.

“Hey, you have a new scar right here,” she said softly, running her finger under my chin. “I didn’t notice it before now because your beard covers it.”

“Got a lot of new scars,” I said with a laugh. “That one’s from a fist fight.” I closed my eyes as she ran her fingers down the front of my neck. “Fucker wore a ring the size of Texas.”

“Ew,” she said. “Any man that wears a ring other than his wedding band is afraid that any punch he throws won’t be hard enough to do the job.”

I laughed and opened my eyes. “Where’d you hear that?”

“My mother,” she said with a chuckle. “Probably true, though.”

“I’ve seen the rings your dad wears,” I pointed out.

“He didn’t wear them for a week after she said it,” Cecilia replied, giggling. “Until he realized she was just fucking with him because some woman had hit on him, not noticing his wedding ring.”

“He should’ve known that already,” I said dryly.

“You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” she said as her laughter faded. “Now that I think about it—he probably did it to needle her back—she loves his rings.”

“That sounds familiar,” I said. “Remember when you gave me shit for wearing basketball shorts to pick you up after school?”

She wrinkled her nose at the memory. “You looked like a fucking snack that day,” she said grumpily. “I didn’t like all the other girls looking at you.”

“So I stopped wearing them,” I said, shrugging.

“Until I asked why you weren’t,” she said, realization dawning as her eyes widened. “You punk!”

I chuckled as she poked me in the chest.

“Hey,” I joked. “Careful, I’m injured.”

Cecilia grimaced. “Does it hurt?” she asked, smoothing her hand gently over the bandage at the top of my shoulder.

“Nah, I’m just teasing you,” I said, pulling her tighter against me. “It’s barely a twinge anymore.”

“You’ve barely even mentioned it,” she said softly. “I’m sorry. With everything else, I just—”

“Hey, stop it,” I ordered. “It’s nothin.’ Promise. Forrest has kept an eye on it, it’s not a big deal.”

“You were shot,” she said flatly.

“Wasn’t the first time,” I replied. “This one’s nothin’ compared to the others.”

I regretted the words immediately when Cecilia flinched.

“Wrong place at the wrong time,” I said softly, leaning forward to kiss the tip of her nose.

“You were there because I’d set you up with a tent and food,” she said, emotionless. “You wouldn’t have been there if I’d told you to go home and deal with your mom.”

“You thought you could boss me back then?” I replied in disbelief. “Cec, if you hadn’t fed me, I’da just grabbed food somewhere else. Still woulda camped out there.”

“Bullshit,” she said with little heat. “You were there because of me.”

“And you couldn’t have convinced me to be anywhere else,” I replied firmly. “Jesus Christ, why do you have to take everything on your shoulders? I thought we’d talked this out years ago.”

“Just because I stopped arguing didn’t mean I agreed with you,” she said. “I just didn’t want to argue about it anymore.”

“None of that shit was your fault,” I said, raising my voice slightly. “Not a single goddamn thing.”

“Well, I remember it differently,” she snapped back.

“Well, your memory is bullshit and you know it. When are you gonna let it all go, baby? Fuck.”