by T. A. Brock
It wasn’t okay, but it had taught her something: what not to do to the people she loved.
The song started over again. Leiv was not okay. Not if he was listening to this song like it was an anthem. It was within her power to help him. She was stronger now than when she’d left the first time. She’d grown, healed, learned. There was a choice to make right now. Her love could be selfish, and she could go. Or she could let her love be healing, and she could stay. She had to decide right now which kind of person she wanted to be. For her mate, for herself, but most especially for a dark-haired little boy on the monkey bars.
Raina turned around, slowly opened the front door, and walked back in the house.
She found Leiv in the living room, cross-legged on the floor, next to the stereo. His back was hunched over and heaving with his sobs. Slowly, she went to him, stopping for a second to pull the needle from the record. His head jerked up with a mortified expression.
“Hey,” she said.
Leiv stood, dropping the thing he’d been holding, and Raina saw it was a teddy bear. The one from the nursery. A lump rose in her throat, making it impossible to swallow. The once cream-colored stuffed animal was tinged brown. From years of tears, she guessed. It hadn’t occurred to her how Leiv might have mourned for their child.
He wiped frantically at his face, but all it did was smear the brown. “Uh…did you need something?” His voice was thick and throaty.
She nodded, letting her gaze roam the area. “Would you change anything about these years we’ve had?”
His hands went to his hips and his head hung low. “Everything. I’d change everything. I’d go back to the time we met and I would go the opposite direction and never look back.”
The words hurt.
“That way, I couldn’t hurt you…our son…like I did. And I wouldn’t feel this guilt every single day.”
She could see his point.
“There are things I would change too.”
He lifted his head.
“But here’s the thing. None of it matters. What has been done can’t be undone, no matter how hard we wish for it. All we can do is move on.”
His brow furrowed, he nodded. “Move on.”
“I’m ready to do that. Are you?”
Time passed while he considered her question. “I’m ready for a change. Moving on? I don’t know. I have no idea how to do that, Raina. How do I move on without you?”
Raina’s breath caught and she had to look away.
“We could move on together.” She looked at him again. His face was a mixture of anguish and relief. “What you said earlier, about being a tribe. It will be tough…there’s so much to overcome. But I’m willing to try.”
Silence blanketed the room.
Leiv took a deep, trembling breath. “Do you think it’s possible? Do you think we can make it work?”
Raina sighed, more hopeful than she’d been in twenty years. “I don’t know. I truly don’t. But we’ve got ten years to figure it out.”
Chapter 13
Winter 1995
CONNER GRAYSON PULLED his hoodie tighter against a frigid breeze and looked up long enough to gauge the length of the line. It was too long. He wasn’t going to make it to the front before they ran out. Scanning the faces of the people in line before him, he considered having an “episode.” When Conner pulled out the crazy, people scattered. He knew he could get ahead in the line easily. But there was a mom with three small children and several older people who looked like they were a fragile breath away from a funeral plot. They needed the soup more than he did.
Conner sighed and huddled deeper into his too-thin jacket.
He was glad to see Leather close to the front. At least one of them would eat a warm meal tonight. He was glad it would be her instead of him. She didn’t eat enough. No one living on the street did, but she seemed to get less than others. Actually, it was more like she gave away whatever she got.
Like a snake made of linked together humans, the line slithered forward. Several of the elderly made it inside. Leather went in just before the doors were slammed shut with an awkward apology from the administrator. There were a few groans, but most people just turned away, leaving to scrounge dinner somewhere else. A restaurant trash can, most likely.
Conner had been that low before, but not today. He’d had a late breakfast, which meant that even though his stomach growled at the injustice, he could make it until morning.
He’d left the shelter signups to come get in line for food so that meant…
He shuddered at the idea of spending the night in the alley. It was too damn cold for that. He’d have to go where there was fire—The Bend.
It was where an abandoned parking lot met an old railway overpass. Where the homeless who didn’t get into shelters lived. And the criminals. But if you could avoid the thieves, drug addicts, and rapists, you could probably find a fire barrel and stay warm through the night. Although he had to sleep with one eye open, he’d never encountered any major problems in The Bend.
Mostly because people thought he was crazy. Or because they knew about his father.
Conner secured his backpack and walked the six blocks to The Bend, counting on the exercise to warm him some. When he arrived, he glared at everyone he passed unless it was a kid. Some cowered, some glared back. It was a game they played; if you won, no one touched you.
He found the nearest barrel and squeezed in between two older men who were smart enough to let their beards grow out. Any additional barrier from the cold was worth a little itch and scratch to get there. But Conner’s facial hair sprouted like patches of grass, so that method of warmth was out.
After removing his holey gloves and tucking them safely in his pocket, he held his hands over the fire until they were no longer numb.
Quickly, he scanned the area for any suckers who were looking to start trouble, but everyone seemed to be minding their own business. Many were passed out on their chosen “bed,” either sleeping off alcohol-related stupors or simply hoping for an uninterrupted night’s rest. They wouldn’t get that here. Midnight was when things usually got pretty sketchy. Dealers came in the dark of night to peddle their drugs and their whores while the poor, unemployed, hard-on-their-luck, average street person huddled in fear.
It had been that way for Conner at first. Like he was living in an alternate world. Like Dorothy in Oz. Until he realized, no. This was the world he was born into. He knew this way of life all too well. Drug-running father turned murderer for the cause. Heroin addicted mother who died for a harder high.
This was his Oz. Pimps and prostitutes and gang members, oh my.
Conner smirked to himself but really, it wasn’t funny. He’d give his right leg to get out. He’d do anything. Anything except become his parents. He’d never live through that.
So even though he’d had more offers than he could count, he didn’t touch the drugs. Not to use them, not to sell them.
He scanned the area again and saw Leather leaning against the crumbling wall of the overpass.
Leather wasn’t her name. It was just what he called her because she wore a lot of it. Jacket, gloves, boots. He always wondered why she didn’t sell it for cash. She could get good money for those Doc Martens on the street, but when he’d mentioned it to her she’d shrugged. “Some things are worth more than money.” He agreed, but not about the clothes. She could sell that jacket, get a warmer one, and still have money left over.
Slamming his now burning hands into his pockets, he strolled over to her.
“You eat?” she asked.
He shook his head, pretending that the mere mention of food didn’t make his stomach cramp. To cover up his reaction, he took off his backpack.
“How’d you miss dinner this time?”
The side of his mouth quirked up as he slid down the wall to sit on the cold ground. “I waited too long in the shelter line. I needed a shower and was hoping for a warm place tonight, so I pushed it, and got neither.”
>
“And no food.”
“Right.”
He avoided her gaze but felt it like a hammer to the side of his skull.
“They had sandwiches tonight. You want mine?”
Yes! Holy cow, a sandwich. Drool collected in his mouth at the idea of a bread-cheese-meat combination. Or man, he’d even settle for tuna. He had to bite the inside of his cheek to stifle a groan because there was no way in hell he was going to take what she obviously needed.
“Nah,” he said, and then mentally gave himself a pat on the back for sounding casual. “You eat it. It’s yours.”
Again, he avoided her eyes so she wouldn’t see the blatant longing in his.
She sat next to him and began digging in her own backpack, coming out with something that could only be a sandwich, wrapped in a napkin. “I already ate. I was just saving this for when it was needed.”
“Okay, well. Save it then.”
“You need it. So, here.”
“I’ll hold over till morning.”
“Listen, don’t be a punk. Take the food, Grayson.”
He gave her a dirty look. She was the only one who dared to call him by his last name.
She rolled her dark eyes. “I’ll make you a deal. You eat this sandwich now, and you can repay the favor later.”
“How?”
“I don’t know. I might be in this situation someday. That’s when you’ll come through, okay?”
She wasn’t backing down. And neither was his stomach.
Conner snatched the napkin bundle from her hands. “Fine. I owe you.”
“Fine.” Behind her glare, she seemed oddly satisfied.
The bread was stale, the meat and cheese warm, and it was possible that any one of the three components was moldy. The funny thing about starvation is that it overrides your brain and makes you think you’re eating a four star gourmet meal, complete with moans of appreciation and everything.
The food humbled him. “Thank you,” he told her. “Really.”
Leather grinned. “How long have we been friends?”
Conner thought about it. They’d only met a few months ago, but their connection had been almost instantaneous. Usually, he didn’t buddy up to people. It was safer not to. But when he saw her it was the strangest thing. An attraction, but not physical. He didn’t want to get with her or anything, even though she was beautiful, and he was lonely enough to stalk a tree branch. No, it was something else. It was like she was…was…
Family.
“Long enough to know you’re probably never going to cash in on that favor.”
She pursed her lips. “Not true. It could happen when you least expect it.”
“Hmm.”
Raised voices brought their attention to a scuffle over by the fire, but it broke up quickly.
Leather pulled her pack between her legs and brought her knees up to her chin. “Have you thought about what I said? About meeting my friend?”
Conner stiffened. He’d tried to forget about that conversation. His suspicions about Leather’s “friend” were grim.
She had a “friend” who could “really help him out.” Would he like to meet him? It could change his life. He wouldn’t have to live on the street anymore. If Conner knew anything it was that the too-good-to-be-true saying was usually legit. Even the guy’s name sounded like it belonged to a member of the Russian mob or something. Conner didn’t want to tangle with a dude named Leiv, thank you very much. And he hated where his mind went when he thought of this guy and Leather.
“Are you…” He had to ask. Just get it out in the open, then he wouldn’t have to wonder. “This guy, is he your pimp?”
“What?” Her voice was a loud pop. “No. God. I’m not…no.”
Conner’s relieved breath rushed out in a puff of fog. “Is he a dealer, then? Because I don’t want any part of that.”
One of their first conversations had been about his parents. Dealing had landed his dad in prison for first degree murder. Though Conner was glad he’d never have to feel his father’s meaty fists pounding his face again, he didn’t want to follow in good ol’ dad’s footsteps. Prison wasn’t in his life plan. And the only reason he’d even considered talking to Leather was because he could tell she wasn’t a druggie. If she had been anything like his mother, had even a hint of being lit, they couldn’t have been friends.
“He’s not a dealer, I swear. If you meet him, you’ll see. He’s more like…family. I think you’ll like him.”
“Can’t you just tell me what his deal is? Why do I have to meet him?”
She shook her head, looking disappointed. “When you’re ready. I’ll show you what I mean.”
Conner shrugged. He supposed he wasn’t desperate enough to meet some strange guy Leather vouched for. He’d done okay on the streets. The streets were where he’d stay until he could find a way to help himself.
Chapter 14
HE’D HARDLY SEEN LEATHER all week. He hadn’t been back to The Bend, but he’d caught glimpses of her in the lines. A stroke of luck found him a one-and-done delivery job, which gave him a meager amount of cash to stuff in his shoe. Fingers crossed he hadn’t delivered anything illegal. Unfortunately, he got hung up at the drug store buying deodorant and missed out on a bed space at the shelter.
And it was going to snow. He could feel it in the air, frosty and moist. The night felt strange. Or maybe he was just on edge because he had a couple dollars.
Hurrying, he made his way to The Bend. It was later than normal when he arrived, and the place had already filled up. A gang of teens laughed and jeered at someone in a corner. Conner scowled at them but kept his head down. He passed a dealer and some prostitutes scoring what looked like weed, and slid up to a barrel. The fire was warm but it didn’t completely take the chill off.
The jeering group grew louder and there was a thunderous bang as one of them kicked a barrel. Sparks jumped and flew into the air, landing on the blanket of a sleeping drunk. Conner held his breath waiting to see if anything would come of the embers, hoping they would fizzle in the moist air. Instead, they caught flame. The blanket might as well have been dry grass for how fast it lit up. And the drunk? Might as well have been a corpse, for how much the fire affected him.
Conner ran to him as the group went into a full out laugh fest, as if a man on fire was akin to a Jim Carrey movie. He tried to wake the man, tried to move him, but he was out for the count. Laughter roared behind him, but a woman who was crouched nearby came to help with the blanket and somehow, between the two of them, they managed to unwrap it. But not without a few burns to their hands.
“You okay?” he asked her, after he’d stomped the blanket to shreds.
“Fine.”
He managed a nod, but he was furious. He spun on his heel and marched over to the group. Later—not very much later—he would realize what a dumb idea this was, but it was too late to stop. The laughter had died, and three of the troublemakers were already gearing up to fight.
Conner met the biggest one, chest to chest. “What was that?” he growled.
The banger smirked. “We were just having fun, little man.”
Conner saw red. “Fun? Someone could’ve been hurt.” These guys were bullies, just like his dad. Cruel-hearted people who got their kicks from wounding others. But he knew how to fight them. He’d taken Beat-Down 101 and he had the meanest bully of them all for a teacher.
The banger stepped closer, his chest rubbing Conner’s and his breath a sour fog. In a voice full of quiet threat, he said, “You’re right, little man. You better step off. Or someone will get hurt.”
The others circled Conner, which was when he realized he was in deep trouble, but he was too far gone to care. This was too familiar, too common, and if he got hurt trying to stop these guys, then so be it. It would be worth it. Wasn’t like he was a stranger to a bloody nose.
“You need to leave.”
“Not happening. This—” the banger threw his arms wide “—is ours now. An
d you—” his finger jammed in Conner’s chest “—are not welcome.” He snapped his fingers and they descended upon Conner like flies on a corpse.
He punched, shoved, ducked, and turned. He got scrappy with them, pulled out every trick he knew. But there were too many of them, and only one of him. When his eye was swelling shut and they had him in a headlock, it was time to get serious.
In his jacket pocket was the switchblade he’d stolen from his dad right before the cops came to arrest him. By some miracle he reached it, got it open, and swiped it across the arm that held him by the neck. The wounded banger jumped back and Conner slashed at the next guy. When a searing pain in his side left him breathless, he sank to his knees. The realization that he wasn’t the only one with a blade came to him slowly.
Ducking, he missed another hit, and staggered to his feet. To his absolute horror, Leather was there. But not standing off to the side watching. No, she was doing some kind of karate or something, and taking out bangers left and right, no weapons needed.
Jaw dropped, Conner watched as she caused enough damage that the bangers started backing off. A couple of them actually ran away.
The leader took a step back, both hands raised—blade in one. “Easy, easy…I’m out.” He narrowed his eyes at Conner. “You. Watch your back.” Then he turned and followed his crew out of The Bend.
Conner held his side but his eyes were fixed on Leather. “What the hell was that?”
“Mixed martial arts.”
He nodded like, of course. Lifting his hand, he saw the bold red of the blood.
“Let’s go,” Leather said. “We have to hurry.”
Through bleary eyes, she almost looked like a dark angel. “Where are we going?”
“To get you help. Come on.”
Conner followed her, hoping that if he trusted, just this one time, it wouldn’t come back to bite him.
It might have been hours later, but eventually, Conner and Leather stood outside a hotel room door, knocking.
