Chase
I hated that everything came back down to comparison.
Her easy trusting smiles, even though I’d threatened her and mistreated her, and finally, the way she’d thrown herself into eating the pancakes like she’d never had real food before.
I wasn’t insecure in anything.
Except cooking.
Because I’d lived with someone who rarely ate.
Always too busy.
Always on the run.
Always leaving food on the plate.
I would never tell Luc that my anger matched my panic when she’d picked up the plate and examined it. I wasn’t even aware it was a test until she passed with flying colors and devoured the whole thing in front of me. I half expected her to start eating the plate.
With each bite, my heart cracked.
And I hated that my first thought was So that is what it’s like… to give something and have someone actually take it without reservation.
So that was what it felt like.
It was like a match getting lit in my chest, spreading warmth throughout my body. It was addicting knowing that if I did something, she’d actually accept it; she wouldn’t argue. Maybe she was too afraid to argue?
But something in me felt as if it had just been put back together again. And it was all over a plate of damn pancakes.
Luc was silent on the car ride; she kept rubbing her hands together as if she was nervous to be riding with me. I couldn’t blame her. I was speeding.
I was always speeding.
Why have a sports car and not speed? It made no logical sense.
I parked on the street near Michigan Avenue. Versace was one of my favorite places, but I knew their idea of casual wear was a t-shirt that cost more than a Honda.
“Let’s go.” I snapped my fingers at one of the guys and tossed him my keys.
“Mr. Abandonato.” He nodded.
Luc just stared at me with wide eyes.
As if she wasn’t used to money.
As if this wasn’t normal when it had been my normal my entire life.
Doors just opened.
People looked away.
Nobody made eye contact.
Just like nobody ever said no to me.
“So…” I shoved my phone in my back pocket then placed my hand on the small of Luc’s back. She flinched and, for some reason, it bothered me because I wasn’t sure if it was a flinch out of fear or something worse — attraction. I knew what to do with fear.
I had no fucking clue what to do with the other.
I could just come out and tell her not to fall for a dead man.
Two weeks was enough time to form an attachment.
And I didn’t want my death being on her conscience.
No tears wasted.
I didn’t deserve them.
I never have.
All I knew was that my days were numbered, and when I thought about living out the rest of my time sitting in my giant mansion alone with blood on my hands, I kind of wanted to point a gun to my temple and pull the trigger. But when I thought about Luc…
I could breathe.
A little easier.
“…so,” I whispered, “where to?”
“Um…” She frowned at the stores that lined the street and then looked back at me. “…I’m a bit out of my element here.”
“What? You don’t normally go shopping with mercenaries?”
“Ah, so now you’re a mercenary?”
I shrugged.
“Organized crime,” she said quietly, “sure pays well, doesn’t it?”
I just smiled.
“You’re too young, you know…” Her face grew serious. “…to be mixed up in something like this.”
I stopped walking. “Luc, I’ve been mixed up with this since before I said my first word. My cousin and I were forced to kill at thirteen. I had blood on my hands at the ripe old age of eight. Believe me when I say I’m old as fuck.”
Tears filled her eyes.
I reached for her. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” She looked away. “It’s just… I think that’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Don’t waste your tears on me,” I whispered. “I’m not worth it.”
“I’ll decide what my tears are worth,” she shot right back and then defiantly stared me down as the first one fell.
Stunned, I watched another fall. I couldn’t take it — the guilt, the knowledge that she somehow felt bad for me, wasted her sadness on a life that meant nothing, did nothing but end other lives.
With a trembling hand, I reached out and caught the third tear. “I think that’s the first time anyone has ever voluntarily wept for me.”
“That just makes me want to cry more.”
“Don’t.” I smiled. “People will think you’re breaking up with me, and I don’t think my ego can handle the rumor that Chase Winter got dumped on the street by a girl wearing…” I tilted my head. “What is it you’re wearing? These clothes feel too old for you.”
“It’s called a business suit,” she scoffed and then frowned.
And that had just slipped. Sharing my last name.
Shit.
Not that she didn’t probably already know.
“My mom dabbled in fashion design.”
“Winter,” she repeated, and then her eyes widened. “WYN BOOTS?”
Did she just scream about boots?
Wow, weakness found.
“You want a pair?” I asked. Or ten?
“I’ve been on a waiting list for two years!”
“Then this is your lucky day.” I grabbed her hand without thinking. She squeezed it before I could pull away.
So I kept holding it as I led her to Gucci.
“Chase.” Darla knew all of us by our first names. We all loved clothes, but Sergio was a complete whore about what he wore; his shopping addiction was legendary. Last month he dropped so much money here that they sent him a Christmas ham and a set of keys to the store. Ridiculous.
“Hey, Darla.” I kissed each cheek without letting go of Luc’s hand. “I’m in need of some boots, jeans, leggings…” I shrugged. “…whatever she wants.”
Darla looked between the two of us and then down at our joined hands. “Anything for one of my favorite customers.”
“You’re just saying that because Sergio isn’t here.”
She threw her head back and laughed. “True, that man…”
“Hey, don’t talk about him in front of me. It hurts my feelings.”
She winked. “Alright, why don’t you go grab a cup of coffee. This may take a while. Makeup too?”
“Everything.”
Why not?
In two weeks I’d be gone, and she’d at least remember me as the guy who set her up with clothes instead of the guy who’d kissed her then tried to shoot her.
“I’ll leave you to it then.” I gave Luc a reassuring smile and went off in search of Starbucks.