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“Do you miss being Bling?”
“I miss everything about that kid, but he’s long gone now…” Camden says. I can hear the bitterness in his voice, and it makes me ache for him, for what he believes he’s lost.
“You might believe that’s true, but I don’t. I’ve seen that kid you were so many times since we’ve become friends.”
“Friends?” Camden questions, a smile in his voice. “Who would’ve thought it?”
“Yes, friends.”
“Just friends?”
“Not just friends.”
He presses his soft lips against my temple. “No, not just friends,” he agrees.
I let that admission hang in the air between us, warming our hearts and soothing a little bit of the ache in our souls. We lie together for another hour, only getting dressed when the smell of bacon cooking and a gentle knock at our door draws us out of the bubble we’ve found ourselves in.
* * *
We all gatherat the kitchen table. Malakai is nowhere to be seen and our host, Connie, seems distracted as she serves up a hearty breakfast of bacon, eggs, sausages, mushrooms and hash browns. She watches us devour the food over the rim of her mug. When her gaze lands on me, a small smile plays about her lips.
“Did you like the sausage?” she asks me, her voice deadpan even though there’s a glimmer of amusement in her eyes.
Kate chokes on her hash brown and Ford has to thump her on the back. Sonny and Eastern look at me with varying shades of amusement. Camden, however, is oblivious. The way he’s wolfing down his food you’d think he hasn’t eaten in a couple days. Then I remember what’s been going on and realise that he probably hasn’t.
“The sausage was delicious. It’s a brand I haven’t tasted before, but I’ll definitely have seconds…” I smirk, before gulping back a mouthful of tea.
For a split second the whole kitchen is quiet then Connie barks out a laugh and we all join in. It feels good to laugh, even if our brief happiness is just a bandaid for the pain.
“Well, well, well. I hadn’t realised I’d started up a youth hostel for the waifs and strays of the world.”
Connie grins as an elderly lady in her seventies stands in the doorway in her fluffy dressing gown and slippers, looking at us all. She has long silver hair braided in a plait that hangs over her shoulder, and eyes the same shade as Connie. Her skin, though pale in comparison to Connie’s olive tone, is barely wrinkled apart from a few laughter lines around her eyes and mouth. When her hand disappears into her pocket and draws out a packet of cigarettes and a lighter, I immediately warm to her.
“Morning Grandma, how’s the cold?” Connie asks her, pouring a large cup of black coffee and traversing the table to give it to her, tutting when she lights up a cigarette.
“They’ll kill you, you know,” Connie says, retreating to her spot by the sink.
“No child, cigarettes won’t be the death of me, but a certain young man might,” she winks then and Ford chokes on his coffee. Now it’s Kate’s turn to thump him on the back.
“Please don’t tell me she’s shagging Malakai!” Eastern mutters under his breath. Evidently, not quietly enough, given Connie’s sudden frown and Ma Silva’s laughter.
“I wasn’t talking about Kai. That man’s a fortress. I’m not sure anyone has the ability to break down his walls,” Ma Silva responds, sitting in the empty chair at the head of the table next to me and Camden. “Been like that since he was a kid.”
Connie’s gaze flicks to mine and her cheeks flush with heat. When she turns her back on us all, washing up a pan at the kitchen sink, I understand what Connie is trying to hide; she and Malakai are, indeed, fucking and she knows full well about the fortress surrounding his heart. If he has a heart, that is. I’m pretty sure he’s a cold fish, given my impression so far.
“I understand my godson has been causing trouble again,” Ma Silva says, puffing on her cigarette like an old man would his pipe. Her gaze flicks between each of us, finally resting on me.
“You make it sound like he’s just had a brawl in a pub on a Friday night. He’s a motherfucking murdering bastard,” Camden responds darkly. “And he has our friend.”
I grab Camden’s hand, squeezing it tightly. It’s not her fault the King’s an arsehole.
Ma Silva takes one last deep drag on her cigarette, then stubs it out in an ashtray that Connie has just put on the table next to her.
“I’m sorry about your mother,” she says gently, reaching over to pat Camden on his hand. “I heard what happened and it turns my stomach. There are many things I’ve turned a blind eye to over the years when it comes to that family, but I will not tolerate cold-blooded murder. This has to stop. You are here because I care about Grim and she cares about you all. That means I’m going to help you rescue your friend.”
“Grandma, I don’t want you getting hurt,” Connie says, frowning.
She waves her hand in the air, dismissing her granddaughter’s concern. “I cannot allow this to continue. I’m his godmother and I took a vow to always look out for Grayson.”
