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Dex rolls his eyesat me.
"My mom would be like 'here's four dollars, get bread and bologna. That's all you get for the week. Here's three hundred give this to Rodney and pick up my package.' I was like eight years old."
Leaning over, he snorts the line.
"Your mom is a fucking cunt," I growl.
I don't like disrespecting women, but I'll put it this way. If Dexter's mom was a guy, I'd have punched that guy in the face.Multipletimes over the years.
"Yeah, I won't be anything like her," Dex says, cleaning up his shit from the table. "You're about to smoke a blunt, what's the difference? It mellows you out. Coke levels out my hyperactive ass."
"I'm not saying it doesn't," I say, lighting the blunt. "You've got a prescription for shit that is basically the same thing. It's a fucking stimulant. Take it instead. That's what I'm saying."
Dex frowns, wiping a hand over his face and rubbing at his nose.
"The meds work for like two months, then I'm immune. I already told my shrink. He said it was the maximum dose, so I improvised. Did you and Kitten decide you were going to have separate fucking interventions?"
"No," I say, scoffing. "She got on your ass, too? And you're still not going to admit it's gotten a hell of a lot worse since that shit went down with you and Love?"
He frowns. His head tips like he's trying to decide if I'm fucking with him.
"Yeah?" He glares at me. "I really don't want to talk about how Baby lovesyouand notme."
"Are you fucking listening right now?" I ask. My tone is dead serious. "If I speak, is this shit going in one ear and out the other?"
"Dude, I always listen to you," he says, squatting down on the wrought-iron chair. He puts his wrists on his knees and tries to focus.
I've seen him do this before. He gives the band on his wrist a couple snaps. He's said that it helps center his brain.
"Love never said that shit. Maybe that's what you heard, but that's your own bullshit talking. I told you a long damn time ago that I wasn't getting in between my best friend and my chick, but here we are. You're both hurting," I tell him, raising my eyebrows. "Try having a fucking conversation with her instead of acting out."
"I already tried that," he says, hopping off the chair and pointing at me. "She fucking crushed me."
"All right, Dexter," I say, putting out the blunt with a sigh.
That sour-puss look on his face says it all. He's not going to hear a goddamn thing I have to say right now.
I hate seeing them both floundering without the other.
I'm also freaking the fuck out about what happens if that baby ends up being Dexter's.
I've always had an obsession with coming down Love's throat.
Fuck.
My head is getting the better of me a-fucking-gain.
I'm not intimidated by much in life, but I can admit I get real fucking anxious every time I think about what will happen if the baby is Dexter's.
Love and Dex have always had a connection. If Love and I bonded then I don't think it would get to me, but as it stands one of the two of us is going to be left out.
It's a whole different level, creating a life. I imagine that shit links two people in a way that's hard to fathom.
I know she's got fears about what happens when I find a compatible omega, but I'm the most stubborn motherfucker I know.
I'd walk away and right back to Love. She's carrying my fucking baby.
I'd never dip out on her, not under any circumstances.
