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Chill

Page 45

by Elizabeth N. Harris

“Wow, look at your kid’s mouth,” Judy sneered.

I grinned up at her. “I’m proud of my kid. He’ll be an exceptional man. Stay away from my family. Go find another guy to bone. I hear you’re good at blow jobs. Maybe Gerard can give you a reference. Although you’re forty-two, looking old now.”

With that, I waggled my fingers, and the nurse who was laughing quietly pushed me away. Chill hadn’t said a word, but I felt the approval radiating off him.

“Gonna be a great man one day, Cassian,” he muttered. “Your mom raised you right.”

I straightened up with pride as Chill walked off to get the SUV.

“That was class. I hope life gets better for you,” the nurse murmured and squeezed my shoulder.

“Thanks. I think it will.”

Chill

Holy shit, Meadow had been magnificent. She’d told that bitch straight and put her in her place. The change in her as she took command of the conversation had been immense. Meadow hadn’t cringed, flinched, or hidden. She’d laid it out and made me hard enough to pound nails.

Watching Meadow take her power and control back had been fuckin’ arousing. I’d known she had it in her, but she’d been struggling to keep her head above water. Now Meadow had a cushion; she was magnificent. She was blooming into a woman any man would be proud to claim. Did I have the right to call her mine?

I pulled up nearby, parked, and helped Meadow into the car. She smelled of coconuts, something that smelled great on her. Meadow winced but didn’t complain as we got her comfortable in the back. Cassian had brought some pillows, which he settled around her, and Meadow cupped his face in a loving touch. The love for her kids poured out of her. Most women would have quit fighting after eighteen months, not Meadow.

“Straight to the house or fancy something to eat?” I asked.

“I’m not going out like this,” Meadow retorted, waving at her bruises.

“You’re still beautiful,” I said, and Cassian sent me a warning glance as Meadow snorted.

“Yeah, if you fancy Frankenstein’s Bride,” Meadow quipped.

“Don’t do that,” I barked, and she looked surprised.

“What?”

“Don’t put yourself down; you’re amazing,” I replied.

Cassian scowled at me, but I didn’t back down. “Your children are lucky to have had you fighting in their corner. You hit rock bottom but didn’t quit. That deserves respect, and if people can’t give it to you, then fuck them. Meadow, everything that asshole put you through, and you survived. Hold your head up and screw what anyone else has to say. The kids adore you, and I think you’re fantastic.”

Meadow subsided, but every so often she sent me a curious glance. I couldn’t blame her. I wanted her, but didn’t deserve her. Talk about screwed up and blowing hot and cold. That was me right now.

The Fighter

I threw the punch blindly, unable to see as blood poured from the cut above my eye. I had to survive this. My wife was pregnant, and I didn’t want our kid growing up an orphan. My opponent was as fucked up as me.

The crowd roared in approval, shouting threats and jeers. Neither of us wanted to be here. We’d not signed up for this. They’d taken me from a bar and him from a college library.

The assholes holding us had told us exactly what would happen. Only one would leave alive. My opponent was a twenty-year-old kid. A decade younger than me. I didn’t want to hurt him; he was as scared as me. I wasn’t even sure if I could kill him. How could I hold my baby knowing it was at the cost of someone’s life? I crashed into him by accident and grappled him as I took him down to the ground.

He fought back, and I felt his tears as I grabbed him in a stranglehold. The crowd got louder, sensing the end. I tried blanking my mind, but holding my child with blood-stained hands flashed into my thoughts, and with an agonised wail I pushed him away.

“No, I can’t kill you!” I cried. I shoved into a sitting position and dropped my head in my palms.

The spectators grew nasty, and I closed them out.

The kid flopped down next to me. “I’m not a killer either.”

We both sat there, wondering what would happen. The crowd roared, and I wondered if we refused to fight, would we be set free? I never felt the bullet enter my brain. I bet the kid didn’t either.

Chill