I burst into tears like a little girl, crying right into his whiskery neck. He squeezed me so hard I couldn’t breathe, but it was the realest thing I’d felt in a long time.
“I’m so sorry, Daddy,” I whispered, caught in a maelstrom of emotions.
I’d missed his voice, his bear hugs, and even that awful cologne.
He finally let go and drew back, his eyes shining. “I knew they’d lied to me. You always were a tough cookie.”
I wiped my face. “We need to talk. I can’t stay long.”
His eyes flicked back to Christian and then returned to me. “What kind of trouble are you in? Is he mafia?”
“Yep.”
The two-fanged mafia.
Crush knew my sass, but he still looked like a man in shock. “I think you better come inside.” He picked up his gun and led the way, Christian tailing behind in his black trench coat and looking like… the mafia.
I mentally sighed as I climbed the steps and then lifted my foot to remove my wet shoes.
Crush captured my wrist and jerked me inside. “Forget it. I don’t care if you throw mud all over my floor; get your ass inside.”
“Same old bulldog,” I said.
He leaned against the divider wall between the living room and kitchen. “Same old smack-talker. Who’s your friend?”
Christian shut the door behind us and stayed quiet in the background, like a plastic plant.
“A friend.” I gestured to the table on the left. “Can we sit?”
Crush ambled into the living room to the right and muted the TV.
“I see you still have that same ratty old recliner.”
He chuckled. “My boys are going to bury me in that. Might as well be comfortable in the afterlife.” Crush returned to the kitchen in front of us and switched on the light.
I took a seat at the table by the door and watched him make a cup of cocoa. He kept peering at me suspiciously but didn’t say a word. Crush looked exactly the way I remembered him. Black jeans, a skull T-shirt that was too tight for him, and biker boots. He didn’t have on all the skull rings and other jewelry he often wore, so I guessed he must have been getting ready for bed.
“How’s business at the garage?” I asked.
He set the cocoa in front of me and took a seat to my right. “You don’t get to ask me irrelevant shit like that until you tell me where you’ve been. Iburiedyou.”
My palms began to sweat, so I peeled off my gloves. “I never meant to hurt you.”
Crush waited with immeasurable patience as I stuffed the gloves into my pockets and then sipped my cocoa.
He jerked his chin toward my cup. “Three tiny marshmallows, just the way you like.”
“You hate marshmallows.”
“I couldn’t bring myself to get rid of the bag. Damn, they’re probably stale.”
I set the glass down. “They’re great. They’re perfect.” My attention wandered around the room. Same wooden cabinets, even the same shag rug in the living room. I kept searching for something new, but it was as if no time had passed. It even smelled the same.
Crush reached across the table and grasped my hand. He started to say something and then covered his face, wiping his red eyes. “It’s just so damn good to see you. Where have you been all this time? Why didn’t you call? Are you in some kind of trouble? I got friends, Raven. You know that. They can make problems go away.”
“I don’t have problems.”
“That’s a nice blade on your belt. Think I didn’t notice it?”
