away from the action. She doesn’t look ready to grace an ultra-curvy chick magazine, not like usual. She’s wearing sweatpants and an old purple Prince shirt with enough holes in it to signify how much it’s been loved over the years.
“Sweetcakes,” Brody nods to Justice, sliding into the booth.
“You brought—” She starts to rise.
“Brody won’t say a damn word, Justice. Come here.”
Pursing her lips, she climbs from the booth. We hug, and a fresh wave of tears flood my eyes. I’d silently cried all the way here. When I stopped for gas, Brody bought and pumped. Without a word, we changed places, and he drove. I thought there’d be no more tears, but a torrent streams down my cheeks.
“There’s something I have to tell you,” Justice says as we settle in the booth together.
“Come clean, girl.” Brody settles back. There’s a faint show of gun handle. Justice bristles. “Relax, I wasn’t implying anything. This is an open carry state.”
“Brody, I already have enough regrets because of you. Shut up.”
“How’d the two of you make this drive?” Justice lifts a brow.
“Wit?” Brody sniffs. “Dinna get off-topic. Tell us what ye have to tell us. Ye work for the Romans.”
Romans? I arch a brow at his accusation. What is he going on about?
“Listen here!” Justice points a finger at Brody. “I will stick a pin in those biceps and laugh as they deflate. You steroid popping—”
“Och, yeah?” He chuckles. “I’ll still let ye grab the beard while ye ride my di . . .”
Oil ceases mixing with water. Brody clears his throat. A family walks toward an open booth behind us. Justice starts up, but I’m sitting on the outside. Thank God for small blessings.
“Justice, he can go across the room if you’d like. Talk to me.”
Staring at Brody, I seal the threat. That’s when I notice a flash of concern before he glances down, mouth tight. The fire in Justice’s eyes is gone. I doubt they stopped bickering for the sake of keeping it PG around children.
“Doesn’t matter anymore, Chevelle. I need to get something off my chest.”
“What happened, honey?” I empathize.
“When you gave me your half of the money from the Japanese guys, it reminded me how there are good people in the world.”
“Wit the two of ye do for these men. . . .” Brody trails off. He purses his lips again as if suddenly realizing I hadn’t cheated on Leith. This time, appearing more human and apologetic than ever, he says, “Please continue, Justice.”
“Then I had most of the money sent to Marcus LeRoux.”
“Heh. Small-time drug dealer in Boston,” Brody rolls those vibrant blue eyes that remind me so much of Leith.
“How do you know Marcus?” Justice asks.
He tosses back a question of his own. “Wit? He yer lover?”
“No!” she rages. “How dare you?”
“How dare I? Too bad, I was hoping ye would say, ‘Feck me, Brody.’ But if ye’re paying off an old habit, I could talk to some auld friends for Chevelle’s sake. Done deal.” He shrugs. I wonder if he’s referring to the McFarlands.
Justice glares at him. “I hate that bastard. Hate drugs and anyone that has anything to do with them.”
“Yep.” Brody rolls his eyes.
“Lance was . . .”
White noise fuses in my ears for a second. I had never thought of why Justice and I share a connection. Now, though, it hits me. We loved men who took their love away from us. To learn my father may not have . . . My abdomen expands as I take a cleansing breath.
“Lance had the most beautiful voice. Sang in the choir, same church Marcus’ mom attends. Marcus got his hooks into Lance, changed his style. Went to secular music, which was fine by me. I miss R&B, ya know?”
“Yeah,” The edges of my mouth tip sympathetically while Justice’s eyes reflect the past.
“Long story short, Lance changed. Marcus gave Lance drugs to take the edge off. He OD’d once on drugs. The first time, I think it was an accident. But one more time is all it took. And that wasn’t an accident. Everything, it was all too much for him. His note—”
A dam breaks. Her hands fan even more heated tears.
“I’m so sorry,” I murmur, rubbing her back.
Brody looks to me for an answer. After a lifetime of numbing my pain, I feel like a sham for patting her. Brody makes a hasty exit from the booth, only to return a few moments later, having retrieved a couple of napkins.