In jail, minutes felt like hours, hours felt like days, days felt like months, and sitting with no expiration date felt like a fucking eternity. I alternated between watching the clock and staring at the doorway.
One guard stood near the door, and two others banked the left and right side of the open room. There were two narrow tables with four chairs. I sat at the tablenear the barred window, farthest away from the guard at the door.
McKelle and Cruz had seen me on video call. White V-neck shirt and loose white polyester-cotton blend pants. I looked like an inmate. I looked like every other guy in here.
A woman and a kid about ten entered the room. I didn’t know the inmate, but he stood, gave the woman a hug and a quick kiss while the little kid clung to his legs. Yeah, that sucked to have to visit your old man in jail.
I swore, this was the last fucking time. Maybe I couldn’t promise myself that. I could end up back here if I patched into the MC. But at least then there would be a good reason to be separated from my family.
My gaze focused on the doorway. And my family was here. McKelle entered first. Cruz was right behind her. Oh fuck. My chest tightened and tears filled my eyes. Now, I was going to pussy out in front of my girl.
She was beautiful. Her blueish-green eyes sparkled with unshed tears, and her lips trembled as she smiled. I stood, and they crossed the room.
Before she could whisper a word, I kissed her, slanting my mouth over hers, tasting her, meshing my lips with hers as our tongues found one another. When the kiss ended—I could have continued kissing her forever—she kept her arms curled around my neck, and I crushed her against my chest, breathing in the scent of her perfume.
While she clung to me, I smiled at Cruz. “No Heller colors, but I didn’t expect you to dress like you’re going to my funeral.”
He wore black Dockers and a tight black henley. The soft fabric molded to his torso. “Do I make a good impression?” He swiped a hand down his chest.
“Yeah, you do.”
McKelle took a half step back. I expected a bro hug, but Cruz wrapped his arms around me and held me tight. I could feel the tremble of his body, and the pounding of his heart. It matched my own.
We separated quickly. As we sat across from each other at the table, I wiped moisture from my eyes. For a moment, we just stared at each other.
I reached across the table, and McKelle linked her fingers with mine. “Did you have any trouble getting through security?”
She shook her head. “You look good. Your bruises are almost gone.”
“My ribs are feeling better, too.”
There was an awkwardness to the conversation. Over the phone, we bitched about court dates and being apart. On video chat, we told jokes. Cruz usually being a dick with his.
What’s the difference between you and an egg? An egg gets laid.
I wanted a funny joke. I didn’t want the oppressive fucking energy that this might be all we ever had. I hadn’t made friends in jail. There were three other guys in my cell, and all I knew of them were their first names and bathroom habits since we shared a toilet and sink.
It sucked, but I’d been in worse bathrooms.
“We only have a half hour,” Cruz said. “Willy hasn’t said anything to us. Have you heard about your court date?”
My pulse spiked. I had, but nothing I was going to share with them. Not because I wanted to keep secrets,but because I couldn’t have either of them at my hearing. I knew they wanted to be there.
And I didn’t want the last thing I saw before getting locked up to be the disappointment in their eyes. I didn’t want either of them to see me as a failure. “It’s a waiting game.” Waiting for a judge to decide my fate.
I sat up straighter, and my knee bumped against Cruz’s under the table. Rather than move away, I felt the pressure like something warm and addictive slipping through my veins.
Cruz shifted on his chair, his leg intentionally connecting with mine. He stared across the table at me. “McKelle isn’t the only one who wants to be touching some part of you.”
“Same,” I whispered. I stared at my hand joined with McKelle’s. “To answer your question, Willy told me to sit tight.” Omission wasn’t lying. “Until I get in front of the judge, I’msittingin my cell. I sleep, eat, and listen to one of my cellies talk to the naked woman he has tattooed on his forearm.”
Cruz chuckled.
“Seriously, dude, I hear him beat off at night telling her how good she is.”
“Nothing wrong with a praise kink.” McKelle smirked. “Just saying.”
“You don’t need to say anything.” Cruz kept his voice low. “Rizz isn’t going to need you tattooed on his forearm. He won’t be fucking his fist for much longer.”
