Page 82 of Always: A Legacy Novel

Her question was still ringing in the back of his mind.

What does that mean?

“I guess we’re going to find out.”

Cross hated waking up to the sound of men shouting at one another first thing in the morning. He had a gun hidden between the box spring and mattress, and he was seriously considered pulling it out just to shoot off a round into the ceiling. He cracked his eyes open, and glared at his open door.

Why the hell was that open? He closed it the night before. His goal before the day was out would be to get a lock on that door.

Rolling over in bed, Cross grabbed his phone charging on the stand. He shot off a single text message to Catherine.

Any trouble for last night?

Nope, came her answer. Michel didn’t say anything.

Cross grinned. Where are you?

Church, was her reply.

Cross cursed under his breath, knowing one of the reasons his father was probably pissed. He’d slept in, and didn’t get up when he was probably told to for Sunday Mass. Hell, he didn’t even remember being woken up for it, but no doubt, he had been.

You’ll be back at school tomorrow, right?

Cross looked over Catherine’s text. Yeah.

Okay.

He knew what she was worried about without even asking. Stop worrying what other people think. They don’t matter.

What are we, was her next question, or what are we even doing?

Us, he texted back.

Catherine didn’t reply right away, and the yelling outside his bedroom door got louder.

“You’re supposed to be keeping a fucking eye on him.”

“And I do, Cal, when I can. At this point, he’s seventeen goddamn years old. He’s already been in the mindset that he was going to do whatever the hell he wanted to from the time he was twelve! Give him room to move, you said. Let him learn on his own, you demanded. Congrats, because this is what it’s gotten you; a kid that doesn’t listen, won’t follow rules, and can’t be controlled. That’s not my fault.”

“Yeah, well—”

Cross rolled off the bed, strolled across the floor in bare feet and boxer-briefs, and slammed his bedroom door before he could even hear the end of whatever Calisto was saying to Wolf. He didn’t have time for this nonsense first thing in the morning.

“Cross, get out here!” his step-father shouted.

“Nah, I’m good.”

“Cross Nazio—”

“You’re going to wake the whole goddamn house, Cal,” Cross called back as he grabbed clothes.

“It’s almost twelve in the afternoon! Get out here, son.”

“Nah, I’m still good.”

Cross swore he heard something crash in the hallway outside his bedroom door, but whatever. It wasn’t him breaking shit, which meant his mother wouldn’t have a fit to him about it. Winning. Besides, the door didn’t even have a lock, and Calisto could just come right in if he wanted to.

It wasn’t like Cross made this hard.