I hear my phone beep in the living room. I go to retrieve my phone and see a text from Cece.
Is she still there? I’ve finished work early, but I can hang around here if you need more time.
I decide not to text but to call her back.
“Hey,” she says.
The sound of her voice breaks my resolve, and a sob slips out. I press my fist to my mouth.
“Dais, what happened?” she asks, concerned.
Lowering my hand, my voice trembling, I say, “I’m not getting Jesse back. Well, not anytime soon.”
“Oh, Dais…”
“I have to prove to them that I’m responsible enough to care for him and that I’m not going to end up back in prison.”
“You were already all of those things. Fucking Jason!” she seethes. “I swear to God, when I find that little bastard, I’m gonna kill him. Hang him up by his balls and chop his cock off!”
Her anger for Jason soothes me a little. Cece has never been shy about vocalizing it. I know she wonders why I don’t get mad like she does. But I know that losing my shit over Jason isn’t going to help me get back those eighteen months. And it sure as hell isn’t going to help me get Jesse back.
“If you chopped his cock off, wouldn’t the rope just keep slipping off his balls?”
“Nope, because I’d tie it so tight that the circulation in his ball sack would be cut off, and then his balls would just shrivel up and die.”
“But wouldn’t they just fall off, and then he’d be free?”
“Maybe. But at least he’d be cock- and ball-less.”
That makes me laugh. “You always manage to make me feel better, Ce.”
“I am the queen of comedy.”
“That, you are.”
“So, what else did Anne say?”
“She said I could see Jesse. A week from tomorrow.”
“That’s great news.”
“It is. I just…” My smile fades away, seeping into the sadness.
“I know. You want him home. I want him home, too. Look, I’m leaving work now. I’ll pick up a bottle of wine on the way home. So, I’ll see you in twenty.”
“Thanks, Ce. See you soon.” I hang up the phone and rest my head back against the sofa.
I can’t believe I was so stupid to think that, if I dressed nice and fed her tea and biscuits, then she’d let me have Jesse back.
I mean, I wasn’t expecting to get him tomorrow, but…six months…
God, I’m so fucking dumb.
I should have known that nothing is ever that easy for me. I have to fight for everything in this life.
Another sob breaks free, and this time, I don’t stop it. I just let the tears flow.
Twelve
Earphones in, I’m listening to OneRepublic’s “Wherever I Go.” I get the cleaning products, bucket, and mop, and I hook the vacuum cleaner under my arm. I drag it along the floor, heading toward the gym.
I haven’t seen Kas since I arrived an hour ago, and his office door is closed, so I figure he’s in there.
I really need to clean his office, but I’m not in the mood to be growled at, so I’ll wait until he emerges, and then I’ll set about cleaning in there. But, in the meantime, I’ll give the gym a good going-over.
When I reach the door, my hands are full, so I press down on the handle with the back of my hand and push the door open with my butt. I back into the room, pulling the vacuum through. I put the cleaning stuff down, pivot on the spot, and stall at the sight of Kas and another guy fighting. Well, when I say fighting, I’m guessing they’re sparring.
A large mat is laid out on the gym floor. Kas and the other guy are barefoot, both bare-chested, wearing only shorts. Their hands are wrapped, like fighters. Kas’s hair is tied back with a hair tie. I’ve never seen his hair like this before. It looks good…hot.
He has his back to me, so I can see the defined muscles there along with his broad shoulders. Sweat is trickling down his back.
Holy hell.
I pull the earphones from my ears, riveted.
I should leave. I will leave.
Now would be a good time, as neither of them has noticed me.
Okay, Daisy, grab your stuff and go.
I’m just about to turn away and make my exit when the guy that Kas is sparring with catches my eye and smiles.
He lifts a hand to Kas, stopping him. His eyes come back to me. “Hey,” he says. Smiling again, he gives me a chin lift.
Kas’s head turns so fast that I’m surprised he didn’t break his neck.
The moment his eyes hit me, something that looks an awful lot like panic enters his eyes. But it’s gone quickly, replaced with anger.
Yanking his eyes from me, he walks past his sparring partner—well, more like, he stomps—and heads over to the edge of the mat. He picks up a T-shirt from the floor and yanks it on, his movements rough and jerky.
Then, he turns to me. Pissed off doesn’t even cover the look on his face right now.
I brace myself for a tongue-lashing.
“You need to learn to fucking knock,” he snaps at me.
That takes me back a step.
That’s the first time I’ve ever heard him swear. And I really don’t like that it was directed at me. All I did was walk in a room, for God’s sake.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize anyone was in here.”
“Well, if you’d knocked, then you would’ve.”
My eyes flicker uncomfortably to the other guy in the room, who is surprisingly frowning at Kas.