“Nah, it’s fine. My ma cooked for me and packed up food for me to take. If I brought laundry home, she did that for me. I was raised with an old school division of labor, and that’s pretty ingrained. For me, if my wife’s gotta move furniture herself, I’m a bad husband.”
She rubs my arm and squeezes my bicep. “That’s a little crazy, but if that’s how you feel, yeah, I promise to not tocarry anything heavier than a gallon of milk for the rest of my pregnancy.”
“Suits me.” My eyes drift closed.
“Can I ask you something though? Didn’t you ever resent having to figure out a way to get home to cut the lawn? You didn’t drive yet.”
“No, it never bothered me. The only thing I resented was that my dad was dead, and that I couldn’t live with my family anymore. I liked going home. When I got there, they were happy and excited to see me. All the noise and activity with four of us in the house felt normal. If I could’ve moved back in with them, I would’ve. It was too big of a risk, though.”
She kisses me. “Well, soon you’ll be living in a noisy house again.”
“I know. I’m looking forward to it.”
Laurel smiles and then settles back and closes her eyes. Within minutes, we’re both asleep.
When my phone rings, it wakes me. It’s nearly midnight. No one usually calls this late anymore, so I roll onto my side and grab the phone. It’s Zoe. That means trouble for sure, since she never calls me directly.
I swipe to answer. “Hey, Z, what’s going on?”
“Hi, Trick.” She breathes into the phone hard enough for me to hear it.
I sit up, and that causes Laurel to stir too. My instinct is to tell her to go back to sleep, but I need to hear what’s up first. If there’s trouble, and the crue’s going out to meet it, I may want Laurel in the same house as Rachel and Irina. It’s probably overkill considering how many guys we have in Coins these days, but ‘Vil and I have an unspoken protocol. When one of us has to leave town, his wife and kid stay with the other.
“Z, what’s going on?”
“I’m sorry to bother you. It’s just…I’m scared.”
I lean forward. “Talk to me.”
“I’ve been getting messages at the theater, and now someone’s been coming into the apartment. I got permission from the people I’m house-sitting for to change the locks and I did that—but I think he’s been in here again.”
“What did C say?”
“I haven’t told him. He—I think he’s angry with me.”
I don’t know about that, but it’s not the time to discuss it. “The building’s got a doorman, right?”
“No. I was wondering whether you could maybe look into things or tell me who to talk to? I didn’t want to involve the police because I don’t have any real proof. I think they’ll say it’s nothing, but Trick?—”
“Have you got a gun in the apartment?”
She draws in a sharp breath. “No. What do I know about guns? I’m a dancer.”
“Okay. Keep the lights on, and stay inside with the doors locked. Text me the address.”
“Are you—what are you planning to do?”
“I’m coming.”
“I didn’t mean for you to come tonight. I just wanted to talk things through with you.”
“We’ll talk about everything when I get there. Text the address.” I end the call.
“What’s going on?” Laurelyn asks.
“Hang on, babe.” I call C.
He answers on the second ring and, not surprisingly, sounds awake. “Hey, what’s up?”
