My throat almost closed shut as I walked around exploring. The small kitchen had been remodeled to accommodate the height of the wheelchair, and the sink would let a chair roll in. I wasn’t in the wheelchair, but what if I had been? Someone had put a lot of thought into the setup, and I knew damned well it had been Angel.
Angel’s room—the spare room—had been turned into a den with a baseball theme, which I didn’t love, but I’d always liked the game well enough to watch occasionally. The space was clean, and there were books and magazines in a case along one wall. It wasn’t an empty, silent torture chamber anymore that reminded me of my missing son and made me furious.
The bathroom had been redone in stone tiles and had a shower and tub I could have easily gotten into, no matter what my mobility was that day. My bedroom was just as beautiful as the rest of the place. I pushed Drew away none too gently, went inside, and shut the door. I felt ancient as I sat down on the bed and buried my face in my hands. My cane fell to the floor and I didn’t care.
Angel might not want to fucking talk to me, but he still loved me, and that meant there was something that could be done. I wasn’t sure what, but it was possible. Tears slipped out of my eyes and through my fingers. I sat alone and cried for this fucking house, and all the anxiety that had warped my shoulders forward and had me huddling over the microphone in the courtroom. I cried for that boy who still loved me enough to try to make things better for me, when I’d only ever made them worse for him. How had he gotten to be such a good person? I was almost forty fucking years old, and he was barely twenty.
He sure as shit didn’t learn how to be sweet from me.
A light tapping on the door made me call out “come in.” I sniffled and wiped the back of my hands over my face. Drew picked up my cane as he sat down. He didn’t say anything, only stared at it as he turned it around in his hands.
“I’d say this answers a question about that topic you’ve been worrying yourself to death over since you came to stay with me.”
I glared at him, but he smiled.
“Angel.” My voice sounded horrible and I cleared my throat. “I want to call him. Can I use your…?”
He was fast to dig his phone out of his pocket, but once I had it in my hand, I was slow to dial the number. Even with everything here, the proof that Angel still loved me, I was scared to talk to him. The worst part was that I didn’t want to own up to what I’d done to him over the years. I’d made his life a mess, right along with mine. I hadn’t only been trying to kill myself, I’d been slowly killing him. The difference in every part of this house made that clear. With him in charge, someone could thrive here now.
“Maybe I should just go. Laken could stay with us.”
“Are you sure?” Drew asked. “This is like the staircase at physical therapy, I think. A few minutes of pain, a lifetime of—”
“Yeah, yeah,” I grumbled and dialed the goddamned number. I was terrified as the call rang through, and unbelievably grateful as Drew took my hand while the line continued to ring. It went to messages, which made sense. He didn’t know this number. I took a long breath. “Uh, I know you didn’t want to talk to me while I was in prison. Maybe I just called at a bad time. Anyway, I’m out. Can we talk? You can use this number.”
I ended the call, and Drew squeezed my hand.
“Well, that’s done.” I stood up and felt a hundred years old as I walked over and flipped on the light. My back twinged and I wanted to go home and lie in the tub. “I don’t know who is paying the bills, but we’re functional. Laken, you can stay here tonight,” I called out into the living room, and got a small cheer in return.
“The TV works, too!” he said in excitement, and his head popped up over the back of the couch. He hopped up and waved the remote at me. “This is great!”
“It is.”
Drew came and tapped me on the shoulder. When I frowned, he flashed me the screen of his phone.
Unknown:Can you come to my house?
“Tell him yes. We can do that, right?”
Drew laughed. “Of course. Peter, are you okay?”
I shook my head, but he only hugged me close as he typed a response. There was a short back-and-forth, and then Drew grunted.
“What?” I asked.
“Uh, he’s living in a money neighborhood, is all. I’ve been out that way once or twice.” He shrugged and slipped his phone into his pocket. “Laken, are you okay here? We’ll get you squared away with groceries.”
Drew took out his wallet, but I grabbed his hand and shook my head. “We’ll go to the store when we’re done talking with Angel. We’ll be back in a bit.”
Unfortunately Laken had noticed what I’d done and his shoulders hunched. “Afraid I’m going to go get smack if you give me cash?” He sent me a wry smile and glanced over the back of the couch again.
“Yeah.”
“That’s smart, but I wasn’t ever deep in it.”
Struggling with what to say, I finally shrugged. “You told me about it. Brandon says that if it’s important enough to tell people you trust, then—”
“I know what he says,” Laken grumbled, but he didn’t sound too put out. “Okay, okay. I’ll have cash when I start working, you know. I can buy myself whatever I want.”
