by Bry Ann
Rose spins and looks at me pointedly. “See what I mean? Maria cannot be left alone in a house full of mafia men.”
“You’re making me sound like a raging sex addict, which I am not.”
“No, you aren’t, but you’re reckless and you really have to be careful here.”
“I have personal experience with this,” I say quietly. “I thought a man was my friend, and he ended up attacking me in the hallway. It’s a survival game here, a little bit.”
Maria’s eyebrows raise, but it is quick. Other than that, she shows no sign that she’s at all affected.
“Hm, well, I can hang with you guys. I mean, girl time. Hello.”
“I have plans,” Rose mumbles. Maria grins.
“Oh, look who’s accusing whom of being a sex addict. Do those plans involve Sven, Rose?”
I look her way too. I thought they’d kill each other. Then again, Rose seems sad and Sven’s been a wreck. Maybe her “death” helped them realize something more exists between them.
“Yes, but they don’t involve sex, Maria. Sven and I need to finish talking so I can see what I’m gonna do.”
“Well, he’s super hot, but Rose, be careful. I won’t let anyone here mess with you. I won’t allow it.”
“I think you and Lacey will get along, Maria.”
Maria looks at me. She’s so dominant that I find myself shrinking back a bit.
“Well, great. I’d love to know what life as a mafia wife is like.”
Both Rose and I wince. Maria catches it. “Okay, wrong thing to say, apparently,” she mumbles, digging through her duffle bag. “Sorry, I know so much about you, yet nothing at all. Rose talked about you a lot, but didn’t tell me much. Just a basic overview.”
“It’s fine.”
“So can she come?” Rose asks. “To boxing, I mean. Just ‘til Sven and I are done. Please.”
“Um, I can try.”
“Try?”
“My boxing coach can be kind of… strict.”
I smile a little. Yeah, strict is the right word. When I turn and see both girls are staring at me, waiting for me to say yes, I cave.
“Alright. I’ll work it out.”
Hopefully.
“Thank you so much, Lacey. Seriously, I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. We’re all trying to get used to things. If I can help someone navigate this house, I will. Maria is just trying to help you. I wouldn’t want her to get hurt doing that.”
“Yeah, neither would Maria.”
I laugh and look at her. She brings such a “girl’s sleepover” vibe to our alone time. Rose and I can be kind of intense when left alone. Our time together has been nothing but intensity. Maria makes it all seem relaxed and fun. She has a presence for sure.
“Well, I kind of have to be there in a few minutes. If you could, um…”
“Hurry, got it. Hey, Lacey, look. I know I don’t know you well, but I don’t get offended. No need to be nervous. Give me your worst.”
She gives me a gentle smile and a wink before going off to change. I look at Rose.
“She was a tech with me at Fallen Ridge.”
“Oh, so she knew Sven when he was there?”
“Yes. Anyway, speaking of the demon, I have to go. Do I look… bad?”
I look her up and down. Her blue eyes are piercing as ever. She’s wearing a wrap-around, off-the-shoulder black top with skinny jeans and flats.
“You look gorgeous.”
“You don’t have to lie.”
“Rose, you’re honestly stunning.”
“Okay. I feel weird. I should be with you, not him. Talking and helping you.”
“No!” I blurt out, way too loudly. “Sven deserves some happiness.”
She looks curious, but I just nod. He does. Rose studies me a second before returning my nod. She gives me an awkward half-wave and runs off. They’ll end up together. They have to. She brings out his heart and he brings out her feelings. They match. You can’t choose your matches. I couldn’t choose mine. Sometimes you are matched with a demon, and it’s your job to remain an angel. Or as close to one as you can be on this earth.
“Ready!”
Maria walks out, completely confident, wearing a tight black dress with a visible black lace bra, somehow managing not to look at all slutty. She paired it so the bra accents the dress. With it, she has tennis shoes, clearly to try to dress it down, but between her natural thick curls and the dress, she looks absolutely gorgeous.
“See? Quick.”
“Okay, um, good. Follow me.”
I shuffle my feet for a moment, feeling awkward in my own skin next to her. I manage to collect myself and lead the way to the boxing gym.
“So, what’s it like to be married to your husband? He seems intense.”
“He is and he isn’t.”
Maria hurries to catch up to me, not letting me avoid her.
“What do you mean?”
“He’s intense, but he’s nice to me.”
“Aww, that’s so sweet. It’s every girl’s dream to have a man be gentle just for her.”
I glance at her for a moment. “It’s no fairytale.”
Maria furrows her eyebrows, but doesn’t say anything.
“We’re here.”
I open the familiar double doors. In front of us is an array of bags, a large red mat, and a small ring in the corner.
“Wow, you guys keep it hot in here.”
“Yeah, it’s better for training.”
I start to wrap my wrists. “I feel bad having you just sit there.”
“No, I brought a book. See?”
She holds up a self-help book. I’m surprised she reads non-fiction books. I know that’s horrible, just first impressions and all. I wince at my own judgemental thoughts.
“Good, I’ll see if Cut can…”
“Can what?”
The doors open and there’s Cut, his bag swung over his shoulder like always.
“Hey, Cut. Can we talk for a second?”
His eyes flicker over to Maria immediately. A cold mask drops over his face right in front of me.
“Who the hell is this?”
His tone is low and so cold. Even I’m a little scared, but I remember it’s Cut. He’s harmless. He’d never hurt a woman. I’m absolutely sure of that. A look of shock and slight fear crosses Maria’s face, but it’s so fast, you’d hardly know it was there. I forget how scary Cut can look to others. He’s been such a staple in my life. But the guy is well over six feet, and well over two hundred pounds. He’s riddled with scars, and his face is in a permanent scowl. The only thing not scary about him is his ocean blue eyes. And his heart, of course. But you really have to work to see that.
I’ve known the woman for less than a day, but I really didn’t expect her to be afraid of him, or at least show it. She doesn’t disappoint. She walks right up to him with her tiny dress, mismatched tennis shoes, body on display, and all.
“I’m Maria. I’m a friend…”
“Wait!” I shout, getting everyone’s attention. I fidget under the scrutiny, but Cut doesn’t know. He doesn’t know Rose is alive. He boxed with me every day while I cried, raged, and tried to break my hand against the wall on several occasions. He deserves to hear it from me, not some girl he’s never met.
“You may want to set your bag down,” I mumble.
After studying my face for a moment, he strolls to the left and lets the bag slip from his shoulder. His arms cross over his chest and he separates his legs like he’s bracing for impact. He lifts his chin, eyes set on me. That’s my cue to go.
“Um, I…” I look up at him from under my hair. I see him assessing my timid posture. I’m rarely like this in front of him anymore, and it’s put him on guard. “Cut, Rose is alive.”
From the corner of my eyes, I see Maria step back, giving us a moment. Cut visibly jerks.
“How is that possible?”
“Apparently, she survived the gunshot wound. She went into hidi
ng.”
“Why the hell is she here now?”
“I’ve been looking for her, as you know. Um, when Ruston took over the search, apparently he suspected her to be alive. He found her and guilt-tripped her into telling me she was alive.”
I sneak a glance at him. His nostrils are flared, his eyes dark and narrowed. He’s pissed. If I know anything about Cut, he’s mad because of all the pain she put me through. Though he’d never say it. So he doesn’t. He ignores the topic altogether and bottles his rage. Tries to.
“And Maria falls into this how?”
He’s so pissed. Half of me is scared because I have a lot of rules I’m about to ask to break. The other half of me is sort of flattered that he’s angry for me, because I feel too guilty to be angry for long.
Maria steps forward, looking almost pissed herself.
“I’m Rose’s friend. Care to bless me with your name?”
His eyes narrow deeply. “People call me Cut.”
“I didn’t ask what people call you. I asked what your name was.”
I glance down to see Cut’s hands fisted at his sides. No one’s ever dared ask him that. Cut looks almost shell-shocked. He turns from her and ignores her completely. Then he turns to me… Shit.
“Okay, you know the drill. Sweatshirt and sweatpants off.”
He steps back and cocks an eyebrow. Damn it. He’s getting the answer he wants. I freeze. He knows I won’t strip in front of her so he’s trying to get her to leave the fastest way he knows how.
“Well, um, I… sort of, I… can we…”
I’m shaking and I have no clue why.
“Lacey!” Cut snaps. I look up at him, timidly. “It’s just me.”
“Okay, what the hell is going on?”
We both jump and turn to Maria.
“I feel like I’m invading some personal shit,” she says, eyeing both of us.
“Why the fuck does she need a babysitter?” Cut growls, looking only at me.
Cut knows me well. He already knows what my stuttering is about. There are very few things that would tangle me up like this. Having someone sit in on a boxing lesson is one of them.
“I don’t need a babysitter.” Maria rolls her eyes at the very idea of it.
Cut completely ignores her. Since the moment she asked him his name, he’s acted like she doesn’t exist. Or maybe he just wishes she didn’t. I don’t know. He’s weird around her.
“She doesn’t need a babysitter, but Rose— and I,” I add, knowing he’s probably not Rose’s biggest fan right now, “don’t feel comfortable leaving her in the house alone.”
“Didn’t your husband give her clearance to make sure she’s not fucked with?”
“I’m still right here,” Maria sing-songs quietly.
“He did, but you know better than anyone that they don’t always listen.”
Cut and I make eye contact. Ricardo. He grunts. That’s all I’m getting. The silence that stretches between us is deafening. Maria senses the tension.
“Besides, Rose thinks I’ll get into trouble on my own. It’s not just the big bad mafia men who are trouble. I can be trouble, too.”
She winks at the two of us. Cut looks at her like she’s an alien.
“Fine. She stays.” He looks at me, assessing with those deep blue eyes. “Go grab a long sleeve and leggings. We’ll compromise,” he grumbles.
“Thank you.”
I feel a weight lift off my chest. I look at Maria.
“Will you be okay for a second?”
“Psh, I can handle the angry boxing coach.”
Both Cut and I give her the exact same look. Is she insane? Does she not see his scars? Both of us being deeply scarred, we both know how normal people react when they see our skin. Shock. Horror. Fear. Anxiety. Then maybe acceptance. Maria displays none of those things. It’s like Cut’s a normal guy in a bad mood. I throw Cut a look. Will he be okay?
“Hurry,” he grumbles.
I don’t waste a second. I sprint up to my room and change. I wear exactly what he says. It’s not worth him cancelling the session to cover half an inch more of my skin. Some of my scars poke out, but I have a feeling Maria will be here long enough to know I have a story anyway. If she didn’t react to Cut, she’ll stay cool about the little bit of marred skin I’m showing.
I run back down the stairs, and freeze when I open the doors. Cut is hitting the bag with bare fists, like I’ve been told multiple times not to do, and Maria’s watching him with a firm sense of curiosity. I’m really intrigued by her expression, but I have to deal with Cut first.
“Cut! Cut!”
I walk over and try to scream his name louder, but he’s blindly pounding the bag. He’s in a place in his head I can’t reach. Maria looks concerned. She’s loud and crazy, but she was a tech like Rose, and I’m beginning to think that behind all the bravado, she’s a kind soul. She knows past trauma when she sees it.
I take a deep breath, knowing what I need to do. I place my hand on Cut’s shoulder.
“Cut.”
Like I expected, he whirls around fists flying. I dodge all of them and block the one that gets close to my face with my forearm. The force of it hurts. To cover up the pain, I hiss through my teeth. I’m quiet, but Cut hears me and it serves as a snap back to reality. He jerks away from me, looking absolutely horrified. I’ve never seen him like this.
“Cut, I’m fine. I promise I’m fine.”
He doesn’t believe me, but he knows I can handle anything. He shifts his gaze to Maria.
“Did I, I didn’t…” He runs his hand over his head. I can’t help but stare at Cut in shock. I’ve never seen him lose it. My heart hurts so bad for him. He looks distraught.
“No, you didn’t lay a finger on me, big guy. Don’t you worry about that,” Maria says softly.
“Lacey,” he starts.
“We’re cancelling. I get it. Tomorrow?”
“Yeah, tomorrow.”
He grabs his bag and bolts out of there. I can tell he didn’t hear a word I said, but I understand better than anyone what it’s like to need to get out as soon as possible. I turn to Maria with a sigh. I need to explain him. I won’t let her think he’s crazy or something. Cut is one of the best men I know. The second I spin around and meet Maria’s eyes, I see the exact same guard go up over her eyes that went up over Cut’s.
“So, are we not gonna talk about what a badass you are?”
“Mirial, grab the sweet potatoes from the oven, please!”
I’m frantically running around the kitchen. So many people, so many people… this is Adam’s first Thanksgiving! And probably Sven’s, too.
“Got it, señorita.”
“Mommy, Mommy…” I see my precious daughter crawling into the kitchen, reaching for me.
“Not now, angel.”
I scoop her up.
“Remember what Mommy said about hot ovens? I never want you to get hurt, baby.”
“But…”
“Dad!” I snap. I stalk through the house until I get to the main room. I hate that room. It gives me chills even to this day, and I’m sure as hell not bringing my daughter in there. Ever. I watched a man get murdered in there. I was chained up, and…
“Dad!” I call more desperately from the doorway.
He spins around, cell phone in hand, a guilty expression on his face.
“Babe,” he says slowly.
“Don’t ‘babe’ me. Come take your daughter! I told you. No working today. It’s Thanksgiving. I’ve been preparing this for days. You’ve never had one before and I made it special. My family’s on their way. All your men are here, Rose, Maria, I invited Cut, but… I don’t know. Anyway, watch your daughter,” I order, setting her in his arms, “so I can finish cooking.”
I give him a pointed glare.
“Miguel can wait. He’s not ruining today for us.”
With that, I walk off. Mirial and I cook and set the table for the next couple of hours.
“Laceyyy!�
� A tiny voice squeals. My heart swells. I run from the kitchen.
“Tyke!” I run over into Jamie’s arms, open and waiting in the doorway. “You’re getting so big. How are you growing so fast?”
He’s so big!
“I’m getting, like, super strong,” he says with a casual shrug of his shoulders.
“Are Mom and Dad here?”
“Of course they’re here, silly. Where else would they be?”
Not daring to set foot in this house. “I don’t know, tyke. Silly question.”
He laughs like I’m ridiculous. “Are you making cranberry sauce?”
“Huh!” I throw a hand over my heart. “How could I not? I’d never do that to you.”
He grins. “Okay, good. Bye.”
He waves and runs off. Mirial chuckles.
“Él es muy lindo, señorita. He’s very cute, miss.”
“Thank you,” I smile.
Finally, we finish the cooking. Usually, I enjoy every second I’m in the kitchen, but today, it felt like it dragged on and on. I’m too excited. Not only is it my daughter’s first Thanksgiving, but it’s Adam’s as well. I let out a deep sigh. Almost done.
I lean over to start placing all the food in their respective dishes, put last minute spices on the food and clean off some of the mess on the counters.
“Señorita!” Mirial scolds. “Go be with your family. I’ve got this.”
“You sure?” I wince. “There’s a huge mess.”
She gives me a warm smile. “Go, sweetheart.”
Okay, I’ll make it up to her. I smile, bounce once on my toes and run off.
The first people I check on are Adam and baby Rose. He seems tense, but for once, he’ll just have to deal with it. I’m not having him ruin today. I’m determined to make this special. The next people I see are my parents. I thank them for coming. We have a cordial conversation. I don’t think I’ll ever truly forgive them, try as I might. I’m not angry anymore, though. Not at them, but… there’s still something there. A wall I can’t tear down. I don’t even know if I want to. I really don’t want to lose them, especially for Jamie, but I don’t want to be close to them either. That I’m sure of.
… So that’s exactly the conversation we have. Friendly strangers.
