As I sat at my desk with a throbbing mouth and a bruised temple, my lips thinned.
Why did that piss me off so much?
It was close to four a.m. when my doorbell rang.
Sliding out of bed, dressed in nothing but a tiny silk teddy, I reached for the Glock inside my nightstand. When I had it in hand, I looked through the peephole and frowned, throwing the door open and pointing the barrel of my gun at his chest.
“What are you doing here, Turk?” My voice was rough with sleep.
He looked down at the gun a moment before training his smiling eyes on me. “I missed you.”
Yeah, right. “Why are you really here?”
When he reached behind him, I stepped forward, face hard, and pushed my gun into his chest. “Fucking try it.” Wild-eyed, I pressed my gun into him hard enough to bruise and smirked. “Give me a reason. I dare you.”
But Aslan Sadik just watched me closely before pulling out the concealed item. He held it out to me, and my heart began to race.
“Is this a trick?” My eyes narrowed at him. “What game are you playing? I don’t know this one.”
“No game,” he said, raising his free hand in a placating gesture. “It just reminded me of you.” He ran his thumb over the red rose. “Beautiful.” He gently touched the few bruised petals. “But a little damaged.”
God, he was laying it on thick. “If you came here to fuck—”
“Actually, I have to go. My wife is likely waiting for me.”
When I made no move to take the rose, he took my free hand and brought it to his mouth, kissing my knuckles, and I hid the shiver it caused well enough. Unfortunately, I couldn’t hide the goosebumps that lined my arms, and when Aslan spied them, he smiled, running soft fingertips over them. “I think you lied.”
My brow lowered. “About what?”
“I think you do want to be wooed.” At my disbelieving scoff, he went on. “I think you want someone to be gentle with you, Ling. You just don’t know it, because you’ve never experienced that at that hands of a man.” When he stated, “You’ve been let down by men, myself included, and I’m sorry for that,” I wanted to unload my clip into him.
How dare he assume he knew me?
How dare he be partly right?
I didn’t speak. I couldn’t.
What did he want me to say to that?
He didn’t say a word as he placed the rose into my hand. I held it tightly, needing to feel the sharp sting of its thorns in my palms to break through the inner turmoil I felt.
Aslan walked backward, away from me, and I wanted him back. Before he left, he uttered, “You look beautiful in the moonlight.”
When he was gone, I shut the door behind me and put my back to it. I wanted to be unaffected, but I never had been, not with Aslan. I loathed that he somehow knew that.
“Fuck.” I looked down at the pretty rose and my heart jolted.
Jesus Christ, Ling.
What are you doing?
Oh, no.
The realization hit me like a ton of bricks.
I was falling in love.
Chapter Eight
Lexi
It was so good to be working again. I mean, it wasn’t paid work, but it was still something I was passionate about, and if I could help even one person, then I was good. Truth was, I didn’t need the money. I had more than I knew what to do with. Untraceable checks still came monthly to this day. But my time was something I could give to people who needed it.
I volunteered for a non-profit organization that did house checks on people suffering with depression, mental illness, suicidal thoughts, and a number of other mental disorders.
Walking to the door, I knocked, and when the woman answered the door, I smiled. “Hello. I’m Lexi Ballentine. We spoke on the phone.”
The woman nodded but didn’t move to open the door any wider.
“Can I come in?” When she watched me carefully, I said politely, “Or I can stay out here. That’s okay too.” I looked down at my notes. “It’s Gianna, isn’t it?”
She nodded, choosing to remain silent, and that was fine. I could carry a conversation on my own; I didn’t need help.
I smiled softly. “That’s a pretty name. Are you Italian?”
At that, she spoke quietly. “My father was.” Then she asked, “You’re American?”
Got her.
All you needed was an in, and she gifted me that, bless her. “Yeah. I came to live here when I was twenty. Have you ever been to Italy before?”
She shook her head, and I couldn’t help but notice how gaunt she looked.
“Is it okay if I ask you a few questions, Gianna?”
She didn’t look happy but said, “That’s fine.”
I made sure to speak in quiet tones. I didn’t want to rattle her anymore than she clearly was. “When’s the last time you ate, honey?”
The lean woman licked her lips. “Yesterday, I think.”
I think.
“I only ask because I have some groceries in my trunk.” I laid my sympathetic eyes on her. “I know how daunting it can be to go shopping when you suffer from anxiety.” I really did. I spent the first year of A.J.’s precious life suffering from anxiety, and I had attacks more often than not. “Do you need anything? I have the basics. Bread, milk, cereal, eggs.”
God, she looked ready to burst into tears, and when she spoke, it was barely a whisper. “Yes, please.”
I closed the clipboard. “Be right back.”
Opening the trunk of my car, I took out a few calico bags and loaded them up. When I carried them over, I was pleasantly surprised when Gianna opened the door all the way. I took her unspoken invitation and headed inside. The moment I stepped inside, I came to recognize why she didn’t want me in her house.
It was a mess.
Ignoring the clutter, I walked on through to the kitchen, and said, “In here okay?”
The smell was bad.
When Gianna followed me into the kitchen, she watched as I unloaded the groceries and hugged herself, making her look even smaller than she was. “I’ve been meaning to clean up.”
Of course she had. But, for a person with anxiety, it was easier said than done.
Without asking, I went over to the pile of dishes at the sink and turned on the hot water. The pots on the stove looked moldy.
Gianna looked mortified. “You don’t have to do that.”
“Why don’t you sit down and eat something and we’ll chat.” I pulled on the gloves and allowed the steaming water to soak the plates a minute before I took the sponge and started scrubbing.
Knowing I was going to do what I was going to do, Gianna hesitantly poured herself a bowl of cereal then sat at the table as I washed the dishes. “Thank you.”
That was it. That was all I needed. It made it all worthwhile.
I twisted back to her and smiled. “You’re so welcome.”
We spoke a while before I told her about the free session of therapy she was entitled to. She politely declined, but I left the leaflets with her anyways. We continued to talk as I cleared away all the empty boxes from around the house, and when I started picking up clothing off of the floor, Gianna joined in.
I put on a load of laundry for her and made sure to stay until it was finished, knowing it would likely not get taken out of the machine if I didn’t pull it out myself.
It wasn’t laziness. It was just the condition she was suffering from.
A couple of hours later, I left her cleaner home and told her I’d be back in a few days to check in. Gianna waved me off, and I had a feeling the next time I came over, she’d let me in.
Yeah.
My job was hard but most definitely rewarding.
A sad thought crossed me as I drove away.
Here I was helping people, and I still couldn’t figure out how to help my son.
How depressing.
***
Twitch
It had been days since I’d seen my son, and I w
as going through withdrawals. I was irritable, irrationally mad, and I was on edge. Short of breaking into the house and stealing him away for a while, all I could do was watch on from afar as the little Goth took him out and about, to and from school, to the park for a play, grocery shopping where A.J. snuck things into the shopping cart and the small woman pretended not to notice.
I didn’t know who she was, this babysitter, but I couldn’t ignore the clip she wore under her jacket.
Whoever she was, she was there to guard my son, so I decided she was okay. She didn’t look like much, and the truth was, I could’ve taken her out in a heartbeat, but Lexi trusted her enough with our boy, and that was all the credentials I needed to see.
The woman unwrapped an ice cream for A.J., and before she gave it to him, she squatted down in front of him and started speaking. I couldn’t hear what she was saying, but she kept A.J.’s attention and her face softened in a way I’d never seen while watching her. A.J. threw himself into her arms and she held him tightly, stroking his messy dark hair and kissing his forehead as a mother would.
A.J. took the ice cream from her, and the woman smiled down at him lovingly.
Yeah.
She was okay, I guess.
When a group of large men approached, I stepped closer, frowning. But the little woman smiled up at them, laughing, before she took turns hugging each one. I didn’t recognize any of them, but I recognized the jackets they wore.