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"Oh." I smile hard and wonder if he's looking at my face. "Well I think it's just lovely."
I take it all in, noticing a building set back behind the house, offset slightly to the left. "What is that?" I point as if he can see what I can.
"That's a dance studio."
My heart skips a beat, possibly an entire chorus. I pull the headset down, and the block is empty again, shadowed by the low light of the newly setting sun. I spin to face him, blinking fast. "What?"
He sighs roughly, searching my flushed features. "It's for us."
I squeal with excitement. My heart jetes and fouettés and piques and does a silly dance. "Really?"
He nods, a pleased smile hitting the corner of his mouth. "If you want. I know this is your city. This is where I want you to be."
Wrapping my arms around his middle, I squeeze him tight. "Thank you."
He pushes me out in front of him and I notice his eyes have glossed over. I do a double take, not quite understanding the sadness I see within their depths. Not wanting to. . .
My throat tightens.
"You're my life, Cassidy Slater," he says, trailing his fingers down my cheeks. "Now, with your perfect face. While you're so beautiful it fucking hurts. And when your belly is swollen with my babies and you're grumpy and a pain in the arse, then too. And when you're old and grey and for some fucking reason still putting up with all my shit. You're my life."
I can't breathe.
I can't think. I don't want to hear any of this. Not liking the break in his throat, the shudder to his voice, I shake my head slowly. "Why are you saying this?"
He grits his teeth, fighting back emotion, his face lightly veiling so much pain. "I'm going away."
My lip trembles uncontrollably. "Where are we going?" Spinning away from him, I cover my face, tears bursting out too fast to control.No.
"Don't do that." He twists me back to face him, his jaw pulsing when he sees my tears. "Hold on to the feeling from before. Don't cry. They want me to plead guilty for possession of an illegal firearm and assault on an officer."
"You didn't assault anyone!" I cry.
"Actually. . .I did." He nods with a show of regret. "They can't get me for anything else. Jimmy made sure of that. We are hoping for thirty-six months, out on parole at twenty-four."
No. No.
"No. No. No," I chant, shaking my head violently, feeling dizzy, feeling my world fall to pieces. My legs give out from under me and my knees hit the grass, giving up. I'm giving up.
He grips my shoulders, pulling me to my feet. "Listen to me, little one."
"No."
"Listen," he growls, but he's not angry. It is aggression manifesting from passion, and I understand it all too well.
I want to scream.
Shriek.
I ball my hands into fists.
"While I'm in, I need you to be the bravest you have ever been. Don't disappear in here." He presses his big, warm hands to my cheeks, tapping one of his forefingers on my temple. "Be you. Bubbly. A silly little girl. Soften my brothers' lives."
I can’t see him now, not through the tears.
So many tears.
"I can't do this without you!" I cry.
