Prisoned - Marni Mann Page 0,29

“Lots of lights and noise. The food was delicious.”

“You’ve become a foodie now? I could barely get you to eat anything, other than powdered doughnuts and bacon cheeseburgers when we were kids.”

I laughed at the memory. “I like food. Probably a little too much.” I stopped rocking and took some deep breaths. My hands were no longer shaking. “Do you like your life there?”

“I work. A lot.”

“Do you date?” The question came out before I could stop it.

“I wouldn’t call it dating.”

I wasn’t going to ask him to elaborate. I understood perfectly what he meant by that.

“What about you, Kyle?” He moved over to the sink and squirted some toothpaste over his finger, brushing his teeth, while he stared at me.

“I doubt my life in Tampa is even close to as interesting as your life in Vegas.”

“I meant, do you date?” he spoke through the side of his mouth and spit when he was done.

“I go on dates. They don’t turn into anything, but I go on them.”

“Too picky?”

I wanted to laugh at his question, but in all actuality, it wasn’t really funny. Maybe I was too picky. It didn’t seem like the case when I drove myself home at the end of each date. It was more like none of them made me feel anything. We lacked chemistry. If there was a slight physical connection, which we pursued, I’d quickly learn that our personalities clashed.

Maybe in some strange way, I’d been comparing them all to Garin.

“Not compatible is a better way to put it,” I said.

“So, you live in Tampa. You go out on dates. You work. You work out, obviously. You like food. What else do you do, Kyle?”

I held a secret that should have been spoken from my lips many years ago. Instead, I kept it inside, allowing it to fester and morph into so many different emotions that it caused panic attacks.

“I have a small group of friends I hang out with,” I said, trying to hide any trace of those thoughts from my voice. “I read. I decorate my house and think I may like it, and then I decide I don’t and redo it all over again.”

“You’re not happy.”

My mouth opened and immediately closed.

I couldn’t lie. He’d see right through it.

“There are some things missing from my life.” Some things that were controlled too tightly. “But I’m not unhappy. I just can’t say I’m completely satisfied.”

“What would you change?”

I couldn’t be completely honest with him, which was making this conversation harder than I thought.

“I wanted college, and I got it. I wanted to be able to turn my art into a business, and I got that, too. I wouldn’t change any of that.”

“But you’d add in love. That’s what you’re missing.”

His eyes were a darker green today, maybe picking up some of the brown from the floor or the gray from the blanket. I felt them inside my soul.

I slowly nodded. “Yes.” I took a breath, surprised by how easy the air passed through my lungs. “What about you? Are you happy?”

“I’m happy enough.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I’ve accepted the way my life is, the amount of work that’s involved, the people I have to report to. It will be that way until I grow tired of it all, or I get killed.”

I tucked my knees against my chest and held them there. “You say it so easily, like you’re talking about someone else’s death and not your own.”

“Because it is that easy. I knew what I was signing up for when I went into business with Mario. I suspect you knew the same.”

He was talking about my career and opening my shop, but there was so much he didn’t know.

It wasn’t the path I’d chosen.

It was the path that was chosen for me.

And, now, after all the time I’d put in, all the sacrifices I’d made, I didn’t expect forgiveness. I didn’t expect redemption. I sure as hell didn’t expect a fairy tale. But, when I looked around the cell, this wasn’t what I expected at all.

“It’s not that easy for me,” I said.

“That might change when you get out of here.”

I had been staring at the trays that Beard had set on the ground. Several orange slices, four grapes, and a heaping pile of what looked like yogurt sat on each.

I wasn’t hungry.

I finally looked up at him. “You mean, if we get out.”

You’ll get out of here, Kyle.

Beard delivered another blanket a little while later—only one though and still no