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Turning out to be exactly what so many people always said I’d be.
A whore.
Just like my mother.
“Andre.” One of the men ducks his head into my room.
Andre has me positioned where no one can see that he’s touching me the way he is, and his hand doesn’t move or stop its maddeningly perfect twisting. “What is it?”
“We’re all packed. All we have left to do is move her mother into the van.”
That snaps me out of the stupor Andre’s managed to lull me into. “You have to be careful with her—” I try to rush around Andre, but he catches me by the hand, slowing me down. He doesn’t stop me, just keeps me at his side as we go to my mother’s room.
“Miss Davis is in charge now.” His eyes snap around the men waiting in the hall. “You do as she says.”
His gaze is softer when it comes to me. “Tell them what they need to do and they will do it.”
My mouth is suddenly very dry as the men wait, focused on me.
Andre leans into my ear. “You have to be able to do this, Paisley. You have to show everyone why it’s you at my side.”
I grab him as he tries to straighten, pulling him back down. “But I don’t know why it’s me.”
Andre’s mouth lifts into a shape I might call a smile. “It’s because you do what has to be done, even when you’re afraid.”
The compliment is unexpected. “Most people would just say it’s because I’m stubborn.”
Andre shakes his head. “Not stubborn.” He reaches up to slide one hand down the side of my face. “Brave.”
That might be the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.
Too bad I’m pretty sure he didn’t really mean it. Andre believes we’re always being watched and right now is no exception.
So I suck in a breath and turn to the men. “If you hurt my mother I’m going to be really pissed off.”
Andre smirks and I could swear one of the guys smiles as he turns away.
But they listen as I dish out the list of what all is involved in getting my mother out of this apartment.
It’s a huge undertaking, one I struggle through every time I have to take her to the doctor.
But tonight it doesn’t seem nearly as harrowing of a process. The men are careful and methodical as they transfer her to the wheelchair I use to get her to the stairs, taking their time to make sure she doesn’t get jostled and her oxygen line isn’t pulled.
We get her to the top of the stairs and Andre turns to me. “How do you get her outside?” The intensity in his eyes makes me wonder if he already knows.
“I carry her.” I lift a shoulder like it’s not an issue. “She’s light.”
“And do you carry her back up as well?” There’s a level of emotion in his voice that makes my throat tight.
“There’s no elevator.”
His head dips in acknowledgement but he turns away before I can even begin to guess about his reaction.
Andre crouches beside my mother’s wheelchair, his voice soft as he speaks to her. “Will you be comfortable letting me carry you down the stairs?”
The gentle tone of his voice pulls the ache in my throat tighter.
I don’t know what I expected of him, but it’s not this.
My mother gives him a smile even though I know she’s exhausted. “I wish I could say I could handle them on my own, but it would be a lie.”
“I don’t know.” Andre leans in and carefully scoops my mother up from the chair. “I think given the right circumstances you could take them two at a time.” He starts down the stairs, the man holding her portable oxygen tank staying close behind him. “Because I’m confident that you would have also been capable of bashing my head in with that bat if I was threatening your daughter.”
