Sebring

She shoved pasta in her mouth and started chewing, still grinning.

I was not grinning.

I did not see good things.

I saw labs that were always in danger of being sniffed out by rivals or law enforcement and wondered what steps Georgie had taken to be certain those labs were not tied to anything Shade. Another conversation we would have, just not one at a public restaurant.

I also saw our boys who would soon have product on the street and this would not go unnoticed, not by anyone. Those “anyones” would wonder where we got it and our boys obviously were more vulnerable with product in stock than they were when our cupboards were bare and I didn’t feel we were in any place to keep them protected.

And Georgie could, at times, control our father and guide him. At other times, if he felt like not letting something go, he made things uncomfortable. And there were even other times when those things should be made uncomfortable for Georgie, but since she was his favorite and his heir, he transferred his displeasure to me.

The only thing I had to hold on to was that my sister wasn’t dumb and she knew all of this. Even desperate, I didn’t think she’d move forward stupid and she always did what she could to protect me.

So maybe it would work out.

She was right. Our legitimate dealings were much more successful than we knew, something now we would directly benefit from when we did not before because David was skimming a good deal off the top. And this also made laundering our other money easier.

So perhaps things were looking up.

I wanted to hold that hope. I wanted to believe, at least in that.

But I couldn’t shake the idea that there was no end to the downward spiral of the House of Shade. I couldn’t shake the feeling that the end of our world as we knew it was near. I couldn’t shake the thought that end was not going to be a good one.

For any of us.

* * * * *

9:23 – That Evening

Nick rolled off me, rolling me with him.

I tried to turn the other way to start preparations for making my escape but he held tight.

I put pressure on his hold, saying, “I need to go home, Sebring. I have to work this weekend.”

“You’re distracted.”

I stopped pushing, tipped my head back and saw his eyes on me, doing all this feeling more alarm than I should (which was to say, any at all), that he hadn’t enjoyed what we’d just done because he thought I was distracted.

“No, I’m not,” I denied.

He gave me a small grin but did it with an unusual look in his eyes. “Okay, let me rephrase. That was hot. I dug that. But it took work to get you there and it doesn’t normally take that kind of work or any work because you’re always all in from the start.”

Okay, so it was good. He enjoyed it.

There being nothing to worry about, I started putting pressure on his hold again, murmuring, “I’m just busy.”

His hold went strangely solid even as he let me go with one arm to put his hand at my jaw and force my attention back to him.

“Just yes, no or kind of,” he said in a tone of voice that made me brace. “You okay?”

That was when I understood his grin that was small and the look in his eyes.

He was worried about me.

I stayed braced, this time against how nice it felt for my heart to trip over itself at the thought anyone could worry about me.

Especially Nick.

“Yes,” I answered. “I’m fine.”

“Okay, Shade,” he muttered, his hand gliding back, his fingers sifting into my hair. “But just to say, that could be a ‘no’ or ‘kind of’ and you don’t have to lay it on me as to why. I still can help make it better by fuckin’ you again. Or I could take you out so you can slam back as much melon crap and vodka as you can stomach and you got my promise I’ll get you home safe no matter how shitfaced you get. Or we can just zone out in front of my TV.”

I fought the desperate desire I suddenly had to know what programs Nick “zoned out” in front of at the same time I felt the intensely pleasant feeling it caused that he offered me anything to make things better if I wasn’t okay.

I succeeded in doing this and replied, “That’s appreciated.”

I felt his fingers curl in my hair as he slid them down and used the backs to stroke my neck through the tendrils.

And as he did this, his touch and the new look in his eye made me brace again.

“You got someone?” he asked quietly.

“I do believe we’ve had a discussion about exclus—” I started.

“Not someone to fuck,” he cut me off. “I know you got that, him bein’ me. Someone to work shit out with.”

That didn’t only make me brace; it made me tense from top to toe.

“Sebring—”

“You tight with your sister?”

“Of a sort,” I felt it safe to answer.

He read my answer for what it was. “So you’re not. Not for shit like that. Not for when you need someone.”

I forced my body to relax on top of his when I shared carefully, “You know that can’t be you.”

“I get that,” he returned instantly, now sounding disgruntled. “We know where we are. But you’re not tight with your sister, not that way. You’re not tight with your mom. I’m not askin’ for it to be me. What I’m askin’ is, is it someone for you?”

It wasn’t someone for me.

In trying to come up with a reply, I knew I accidentally gave one when his eyes narrowed on me and he bit out, “Fuck.”

“I’m fine,” I assured.