Page 6 of Worth of Waste

Not when he wasted time working on stupid fucking crossword puzzles.

Karen.

The moment her name passed through his mind in a whisper, Dino felt an aching emptiness start to grow in his chest.

This was why he tried not to think of her, why he couldn’t do it.

She would be better off without him, he knew. She could start over, if that’s what was best for her, and shit, maybe she’d get the hell out of Chicago and go as far away as she could possibly get with the money he’d sent to her before his arrest had happened. She could raise his child away from the danger that he and his life posed to them.

If she were a smart woman, those were the exact things she whould do.

Dino wouldn’t blame her at all.

No, Dino tried not to think of Karen Martin at all.

Except he did.

Every damn day.

All the fucking time.

He loved her, after all.

He hoped she had done none of those things. He hoped she had figured out a way to stay, that she had used his money, and maybe—God, maybe—she’d be waiting for that explanation he had promised all those months ago.

Still …

Dino had to pretend like he didn’t want any of those things.

It was easier to remember why he had gotten where he was and what he was going to do when he was out, if he didn’t focus on only her. Someday, he’d be able to do that for Karen and give her what she deserved to have from him.

Someday.

Today was just not that day.

“Visiting day, you said?” Dino asked, tossing his crossword puzzle and pencil aside before he jumped down from the top bunk. “Do you have someone coming to visit you today, or what?”

Todd was already at the bars, his arms hanging out between the holes as he looked for one of the guards that would signal breakfast was soon. “Maybe.”

“Maybe is a non-answer, kid.”

“Maybe I wait every week, thinking this will be the one she actually shows up to, but she never comes.”

Dino’s brow rose high. “She?”

Shit, he actually thought Todd might have been gay. Not that he would have cared if the kid was, but it was surprising that he had a she in his life that he talked about with a sort of fondness that did not speak of a family relation. After all, Dino had heard the kid talk about his mother and sister, and he didn’t use that kind of tone.

“Yeah, she,” Todd repeated. “She—the one that I ended up in here for.”

Well, then …

Dino wasn’t touching that.

Tit for tat, you know.

“Good luck with that,” Dino muttered.

Todd didn’t reply.