“I realized how good it would feel to have you like that again, to taste you, to be inside you, there’s no greater high. But the comedown hurts too much. So when you know for sure this is what you want, all in, you come knock on my door.”
She nods, but her eyes glisten with unshed tears.
I pull her close and stroke her back, and whisper in her ear, “I might be in recovery, Freckles, but you’ve always been my drug of choice. I can never stop at just one hit.”
As much as it tears me up inside, I let her go and walk away, down the road to my shitty apartment, away from her warmth, her heat, and her sweet scent which has always fueled my addiction.
CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
Lo
Three years later
Gabe pulls into his car space, and I slam the garden gate behind me and usher Axl a few doors up. “You’re late!”
He climbs out of his sleek black Charger and holds his hands up in a warding gesture. “I know, I know, I’m sorry. We had some shit go down at the shop.”
“Daddy!” Axl throws himself at Gabe who scoops him up into a hug and flies him around the car.
“You ready for some fun tonight, Axman?”
“Yeah!”
“What kind of sh—” I glance at Axl and quickly correct my choice of words—“shop business did you have?”
“Oh, just some stupid fu—” Gabe presses his lips into a tight line to avoid cussing too. We’re both making a conscious effort to use less profanity around Axl now that he’s at the age of understanding what it means ... and repeating it. “Just some silly man at the shop that Logan tattooed. Wanted to leave without paying.”
“What? That’s nuts.”
“Yeah. We had to call the police and everything.”
Axl gasps. “Did you get to ride in the police car, Daddy?”
Gabe laughs. “Not this time, champ.”
“Are you okay? I can cancel if you need me to.”
“I’m fine, Freckles. Go, have fun. You deserve a night off.”
I give him a half smile, because I know how hard this must be for him. Gabe was understandably hurt when he came back from rehab and found out I’d begged Arturo for my old job back, but that was years ago, and we’d all been functioning justfine since—sweeping all our emotions under the rug maybe—but functioning no less.
“You need a lift?”
“No, I’m okay. Judah is picking me up—who is also late, it seems.” I eye the bright pink Wrangler that barrels down our narrow street. “And speak of the devil.”
Gabe laughs. “Your pink chariot awaits.”
“Looks like. What are you boys going to do tonight?”
“Beer and pizza!” Axl shouts.
My brows shoot into my hairline. “What now?”
“Root beer and pizza,” Gabe clarifies. “Let’s not give Mommy a heart attack.”
“It’s a Lauwier Boy’s Night twadition.”
I ruffle my son’s hair and then kiss them both on the cheek. Touching Gabe like this is so natural, I forget I’m doing it half of the time. The other half, I may be intentionally soaking up some of that affection, but we’re always careful never to cross any lines. Axl is our main priority, anything else between us is just as complicated as it’s always been.