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Cali pulled away from the headboard, crawled across the bed, and hugged her sister. “I’m proud of you, Conner. I don’t care what gave you the strength or courage to walk away, it doesn’t matter. All that matters is you did. You have to promise you won’t go back.”
When she shifted back enough for their eyes to meet again, Cali added, “And you have to see somebody. I know you think it’s as easy as leaving but it’s not. You need to talk to someone. You need to sort through the things in your head. Your emotions, your dependencies, the reasons why what he gave was enough. It really helps. I can talk to Dr. K for you.”
Conner frowned and nodded. “You’re right. I’ve been thinking about it for a while. I just need a minute to sort through it all by myself first.”
“Conner…” Cali felt fearful that her sister was already regretful about leaving Maurice.
“I’m gonna do it and I’m not going back. I just need a few days to breathe then I’ll go see her. I promise and you know I don’t break my promises to you, California Love.”
Cali smiled. “No, you never do.” She backed away. “You sleeping in here?”
Cali’s place was a one bedroom. Nice, but small.
“I think I’m gonna crash on the sofa.”
The look Cali delivered had Conner rolling her eyes. “I’ll be here when you wake up. I promise not to sneak out.”
And go back to that piece of shit.
“I love you.”
“I love you more,” Conner returned and climbed off the bed. “Now get some rest. It’s…” She lifted her arm and peered at her wrist. “Five in the morning.”
“Yeah, I feel it all over,” Cali mumbled.
“I’m guessing what you feel all over is the way War fucked you tonight and don’t you dare try to deny it, because I know he did.”
Cali groaned. “Go to bed.”
“Mmhmm, yet another reason why you need to really think about what that man means to you,” Conner said over her shoulder as she left her sister's room.
Cali peeled out of his hoodie, removed her dress, then yanked on a pair of clean panties since she’d left his place without any. She also bypassed the t-shirt she was planning to wear and pulled War’s hoodie back on before she settled beneath her covers.
The soft cotton material smelled like him which provided a comfort Cali wished she didn’t need but she quickly settled into. She closed her eyes and without effort she was drifting.
War lost count of the number of blunts he smoked. Three, possibly four, but none were enough to fix the dysfunction taking place from the heavy thoughts in his head. He wanted to stay with Cali, to force her to listen to all the reasons why he kept his true identity a secret, but none seemed plausible enough.
The same questions she had flowed through his head as well. Was this about Merritt? Was his connection to Cali in some twisted way created to satisfy a curiosity sparked by the things his cousin shared about her?
The answer was no. Not even fucking close. Cali was like a drug, one Merritt had become an addict of. Although he had spoken on his addiction many times, nothing Merritt expressed could have prepared War or remotely came close to what experiencing Cali felt like.
His feelings about her were his own. Though what War felt helped him understand why Merritt had fallen so hard and fast, War would never in his fucking life use a woman in the ways Cali insinuated.
Was she a game? A challenge? A warm body for him to experience, indulge in to conquer, and move on? The thought had him in consideration of burning another one with hopes of quieting thoughts War prayed he could clear from her mind. Instead of firing up again, he decided to lend his focus to another looming issue.
War grabbed his phone and keys, left his apartment in the city, and twenty minutes later was pounding on York’s door. It was just after lunch and since York spent most of his time robbing the rich in the late hours of the evening on the black web, it was likely his friend hadn’t laid his head down too long ago.
That was proven when York opened the door with a scowl in place. Instead of the typical greeting shared between the friends, War’s fist landed with precision right on the side of York’s face. Painful but not enough of a hit to do any real damage.
York grinned, flexed his jaw, and stepped out of the way. “I’mma let you have that because even if I didn’t know, I blew up your shit.”
He walked away from the door, leaving War at his back when he added, “Lock my fucking door. I was about to call you in a few hours anyway.”
When War entered the living room he found York returning from the bedroom, pulling a t-shirt over his head. York made his way to the sofa, lifted a freshly rolled blunt from a nearby table, and fired up after he sank into a corner of his sofa. War sat in the armchair on the opposite end and leaned back, closing his eyes.
“She ain’t fucking with you now?”
War hated the amusement in York’s tone but that was his boy. There wasn’t much he took seriously other than his money.
