Sebring

“No need for us both to go.”

This was true.

“You’re always feeding me,” I pointed out.

“Yeah, that’s the rule. Your ass is in my house, I feed you.”

I made a turn, muttering, “You have a lot of rules.”

“My ass is in your house, you make the rules.”

It was only the second time in our time together he’d mentioned being at my house.

I felt a thrill at the very thought.

Then it felt like I hit a wall with a painful thud when I remembered that’d never happen.

“Maybe we should chat about that later,” I murmured before saying louder, “But I’m making dessert tonight and I’m buying the ingredients for the dessert I’m making.”

“Fuck, got another call comin’ in that I gotta take so I can’t continue this stupid fuckin’ argument with you,” he replied semi-distractedly.

“Which means I’m bringing dessert.”

“Whatever. Six?”

“Six, Sebring. See you then.”

“Later, Olivia.”

We hung up.

I saw the warehouse and felt my stomach go from warm and happy at talking with Nick to roiling with sick.

It was the first time I’d been back since the whole thing went down with David. This was because it was easier doing David’s job at his office in the Denver Technical Center, known by locals such as myself as DTC. It was also because I hated the warehouse and I hated my father, who only had one office, that being in the warehouse. Therefore working elsewhere I could avoid him a lot easier.

I was parking in the spot that had my name on it when my phone rang again.

I looked to it in hopes Nick was done with his other call and had called me back so we could continue our ridiculous fucking argument about dessert.

It wasn’t Nick.

It was Dustin, the fixup my mother perpetrated.

I sighed.

Dustin and I had spoken, just enough for him not to share with his mother (who would share with my mother) that I was blowing him off, not enough for me to actually fix a date with him.

However, this was something he was pushing more for as the days went by, our conversations became longer, his interest in seeing me again was more firmly communicated and I was beginning to run out of excuses.

I was, indeed, busy at work. But mostly, I was fucking another guy (that being after we ate together and hung out together) who I preferred to spend time with so I didn’t have time for Dustin.

I looked from my phone to the warehouse and decided one thing that annoyed me and reminded me my life really wasn’t my own at a time.

I let the call go to voicemail.

I would find it was really not my day when I made my way up the stairs that were open to the large, loud loading area where many men were being loud while loading things and I nearly bumped into Tommy at the top. This happened when I opened the door to enter the hall off which the offices were located.

“Liv,” he murmured, not moving, his arm out to hold open the door.

“Tom,” I replied, shifting to scoot by him.

He caught my arm.

I froze, my gaze cast to his hand on my arm.

I lifted it to him.

Even with the order I was giving with my eyes, he didn’t let me go.

“We have to talk,” he shared.

“We’ll make a meeting,” I replied.

His fingers tightened. “Not talk like that.”

I raised my brows, allowing mild curiosity to infuse my features.

He got closer. “Shit’s gone down. I shared somethin’ with you. Haven’t seen you since. It’s fuckin’ with you, I know it and I gotta know you’re good.”

“I’m good,” I assured him immediately, pulling at my arm in his hold.

“Liv—”

“Tom, let me go. I’ve got things I need to do.”

He didn’t let me go.

He kept hold of me with one hand as he let the door swing closed and lifted his other to lightly touch the marks on his face before he dropped it.

“I got a life to live and one choice how to live it, honey, but I gotta live it and you know I want kids,” he shared gently, but albeit gently, they were things I already knew.

I knew he wanted kids because we were going to have kids. Three of them.

And none of them were going to be gangsters.

“Then it’s good your wife is pregnant,” I remarked.

His chin jerked into his neck.

“Now, unless you’re intent on talking me into holding her baby shower, and just to remind you, she and I are not that close, I’d like you to let me go,” I requested, pulling again at my arm.

He didn’t let me go.

He got even closer.

This meant I got even more annoyed.

“I know you’re hurting, Liv,” he declared.

“I’m not hurting, Tom. I’m busy. Now let me go.”

“There’s shit we need to talk through, probably needed to talk through way before now but no matter the time that passed, it was always too raw. But we can’t avoid it anymore. And with things changing the way they are with the business, it could mean change between—”

“There’s nothing we need to talk through,” I interrupted. “There’s just one thing you need to do and that’s let me go.”

“Honey—”

I felt the icy-heat of my anger flash.

“Fucking let…me…go,” I snapped.

Tommy blinked.

Then he let me go.

Even released, I was no less displeased, and in our new roles in our world, Tommy needed to know that.

So I shared it with him.