Kincaid looks around the room, but I know the direction is aimed mostly at me.
The room starts to clear out, and although I’m the last to leave, Apollo is waiting for me outside the door.
“You okay?” he asks, genuine concern on his tired face.
“As well as can be expected, I guess.” A long sigh leaves my lips as I brush my hands over my face.
“Look, I… Shit… I feel like an asshole even bringing this up.”
“Just say what you need to say. I’ve got to get back to her.”
He nods, his throat working on a swallow before he speaks again. “A lot has happened, and I’m not unsympathetic, but we have court scheduled for later in the week.”
Time has seemed irrelevant to me the last couple of weeks, but I knew the custody hearing was drawing closer.
“It’s incredibly shitty timing, but do you think she’s going to be ready? I just can’t take the chance of losing my son if she’s not on her A game.”
“I don’t know if she’s going to be ready,” I answer honestly. “What I do know is that Faith would never walk into court unprepared and risk something like that. She may have to ask for a continuance.”
My best friend nods, accepting what I’m telling him.
“Fuck, man. I’m sorry, but I had to ask.”
“I completely understand your priorities, Apollo.”
He nods before walking away, and I have to take a moment to myself in the empty hallway, counting breaths and reminding myself that scouring the town with any lack of direction will be fruitless.
By the time I make it back to my bedroom, Faith is curled up on my bed asleep. As I watch her back rise and fall with rhythmic breaths, I wonder if I should sleep on the couch and give her some time alone.
Then I remember how she reached for me after being chased. She didn’t want to be alone.
I strip my jeans off, grab the fastest shower in history, and pull on a pair of boxers before I climb into the bed behind her and pull her fully against me.
I know I made the right decision when she grips the hand I have over her stomach in her sleep.
Chapter 24
Faith
My bones ache when I wake up in the bed alone, telling me I’ve slept much longer than I intended. I know Ethan joined me last night, but his spot on the bed has grown cold already.
As much as I want to stay in this room and hide, I have a million things I have to work on. With heated cheeks, I rummage through his dresser until I find a pair of sweats and a thicker shirt, pulling them over the clothes Cara so generously provided last night. The tank top and sleep shorts were amazing to sleep in, but the chatter from somewhere in the clubhouse that’s filtering in says when I walk out of here, I’m going to run into more than just Ethan.
I finger comb my wild mane of hair, but without a brush and hair tie, there’s really not much that I can do to tame it. Knowing I can’t put this off any longer, I open the bedroom door and step out into the hallway. It’s empty except for the voices coming from the front of the clubhouse growing louder the closer I get.
The living room is packed—adults smiling at kids, the children running around and playing with new toys. I look all over for Ethan, but I don’t see him. When I make eye contact with Slick, she points toward the kitchen, but there are a lot of voices coming from that direction as well.
“Looking for Legend?” she asks as she approaches.
“I… umm… yeah.”
“He’s in here. Come on.”
I follow her into the kitchen, surprised at just how many people are in the room. I’ve been to Kincaid’s house before, but I’ve always walked around the outside of the clubhouse. Once, I stood on the porch to apologize for my behavior toward Ethan. I’ve never had any desire to be in this building. I’ve heard too many stories, way too many details whispered while having drinks with Sylvie at Jake’s from women who have visited here. Granted, I was intrigued by their stories, but never had the urge to be involved in any part of what would be required of me to enter.
Yet, here I am, standing in the doorway of the massive room, my eyes scanning over the numerous tables needed for such a large group.
“Can I make you a cup of coffee?”
I look over, smiling at Nate Fosse’s familiar face.
“Do you have decaf?”
He shakes his head, scrunching his nose. “Sorry. The people around here would form a mutiny if we brought that stuff through the front door. Bottle of water instead?”
“That would be great. Thank you.”
As Apollo walks toward the fridge, Ethan approaches, and I barely stop myself before reaching for him.