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“Hey, you okay?” I asked sitting up, ready to go to him.
I paused though, knowing he wouldn’t want me to do that with Homer here.
Lock had kept his word and had been coming home earlier than before. He would greet me when he came home, pleasant enough. But he also kept his distance, working at the dining room table some nights or upstairs in his office on other nights. Sometimes his guys would work with him, on what I hadn’t a clue. I would always make myself scarce, not wanting to get in the way.
For the remainder of the week, it’s been working. Things between us was okay. But right now, I wanted nothing more than to pull him into my arms, hug him to me and take away whatever pain he felt.
Lock dropped his work back by the door and blew out a long, haggard breath.
“How did everything go tonight?” he asked, ignoring me and looking at Homer.
I noticed that Homer had changed his demeanor, his back straightening, voice deep and professional sounding.
“Yeah, all’s been quiet. I’ll hang around for a little bit if you need me.”
Lock ran his hand over his head. His eyes, goodness they were so dark and troubled. It made my chest ache.
“No, that’s fine. You can go. But check in with the team. Make sure Ivey is good and doesn’t need you.”
“You got it.” Homer gave him a nod and stood, dropping his cards on the table. Lock returned his nod and headed for the steps.
“Lock…” I called out as he walked away.
“Not now, Phoebe,” he replied over his shoulder before climbing his steps. I watched him go, noticing the deep tension along his shoulders. Something was terribly wrong. I felt it in my bones.
I swear when he slammed his door, the whole house shook. My worried eyes fell to Homer.
“Do you know what that was all about, Homie?” I asked, using the nickname I decided to call him. He wasn’t a Homer to me but a Homie? Yes.He hated it by the way but never told me to stop.
“No, but it’s bad.”
I dropped my cards and stood. “I need to go check on him.”
“No, don’t.” Homer reached out to grab me and I recoiled, eyes wide, borderline panicked. I knew Homer would never hurt me, but still… I wasn’t completely comfortable around him just yet.
Homer, sensing my growing unease, raised his hands in surrender. His eyes going soft. “Look, I know you want to go up there and save him. But the best thing you can do for him is leave him be.”
I straightened my spine and narrowed my eyes at him. “No, that’s the last thing I’m going to do. Did you not see the darkness swimming in his eyes? He’s falling and if I don’t do something, I don’t know where he’ll end up. No,” I shook my head. “I’m going to check on him. Make sure he’s okay. If he yells at me or throws something, then I’ll know he’s fine. But I won’t sit down here hoping he’s okay.”
“Listen, Phoebe. I know you’re just trying to help. But I’ve—”
I placed my hand up, stopping the whole, ‘I know him better than you’, speech. I didn’t want to hear it.
“Save that shit for someone else, Homer.” I told him, dropping his real name so he knew I was serious. “With all due respect, I know you’ve known him longer than me. But until you’ve been through some shit that has made you rethink if this world would be a lot better if you weren’t in it, don’t tell me you know better than me.” I pointed to the steps. “I’ve seen that look before, seen it in the mirror, staring back at me. And I’m not saying he’s going upstairs to off himself or something. What I am saying is that I recognize the darkness that’s consuming him. And I’d be damned if that happens. Now, if you don’t mind, please check the cameras, the windows and doors and whatever the hell else you and Lock do before you leave. Thanks.”
There was a loud crash upstairs that caused both of us to jump clear out of our skins.
We turned to look in the sound’s direction, then our gazes floated back to each other, both our eyes wide as hell.
“You still wanna go up there?” he asked me.
Hell no… I wanted to say, but I gulped and nodded. “I’ll see you later, Homie.”
“Let’s hope,” he mumbled under his breath as I slowly made my way to the steps, lifting the hem of my maxi dress as I went so I wouldn’t trip. That was the last thing I needed, breaking my neck at a time like this.
As I climbed the steps, my heart felt as if it would collapse my chest, it was beating so hard. I wasn’t sure what I was walking into, but my heart was telling me it wouldn’t be good. Something was wrong, something that caused Lock’s soul to go dark, and I felt it was my soul’s job to save him.
For the past four days, we’ve behaved and gave each other space. As I mentioned before, he’d come home and spend most of his time working at the dining room table or his office. I would give him the space he needed, but I didn’t stay away for long; I couldn’t. I had to be close to him, or at least in the vicinity where I could see his face. However, I wouldn’t crowd him. I’d stay in the living room and read or watch television while he worked. Sometimes he’d join me, later on, stretching out in the recliner or we’d hang out on the patio, drink a few beers and talk about our day. His stories were more interesting than mine obviously, but he’d listen attentively to whatever I had to say.
