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“She should have said something.” His hands ball. Neck strains. “She should’ve told them it was me. But, instead, she took the blame. She went to jail because of me. She didn’t have to be a fucking martyr!”
I stroke his arm to keep him close. “At least you know where you get it from.” I chuckle, turning to sarcasm. It seems to work for him when he’s uncomfortable.
His eyebrows dent inward, enhancing his fury. “Me?”
“You’re a martyr. You and your brothers choose to sacrifice your lives for all those women. You do it regardless of the dangers. You do it because you couldn’t save your mom.”
“You sound like fucking Dr. Shannon.” He sniggers. “It’s bullshit.”
“It’s not. You must forgive yourself, Lix. So, like Brett, someday you can move on and have your own family.”
“A family?” His head jolts back. “I’ve never been able to imagine what that might look like. Fuck. I’ve never allowed myself to.”
“Well, you better start. This is your story. Our story. We’re writing it. Soon, your mom will be home, and you’ll have a new addition to your family. It’s happening. You can’t stop it.”
“I know, I can’t. But somehow, I’m sure I’ll fuck it up. So you might want to think twice about sticking around for the shit show.”
I laugh. “I’ll be around for any shit show you’re starring in. You’re not getting rid of me. Good and bad bones, I want them all.”
Chapter 32
I glance up from my laptop. Lix stands in a T-shirt and shorts.
“Going to the gym?”
“Yeah.” He picks up his bag. “I’ll be home around nine.”
I slump back into the sofa. “Why is it that when you go to the gym on Fridays, it’s always for four or five hours? And during the week, it’s an hour?”
He stalks over to me with a grin. “You can’t help yourself from investigating shit.” He leans down and presses his lips to mine.
“When things don’t add up, I question them.” I gaze up at him, savoring his kiss.
He’s been distant since finding out Brett is going to have a baby. I’m not sure what’s going on. It’s like the thought of a family frightens him. We frighten him. I’m not about to lose him because he’s dwelling on a past he had no control over. “You know what,” I say, closing my laptop. “I’m going to the gym with you.”
He chuckles. “I don’t recall inviting you.”
I stand, ignoring his sarcasm. “It’s a gym. You don’t need to invite me.” I pat him on the chest. “I’ll get changed. It’ll only take me a minute.” I march off to the bedroom before he can argue with me.
Ten minutes later, we’re in his SUV and on the road. Forty minutes more into the ride, I spot a sign. “Where is this gym you go to?” I turn to him. “Sarasota?”
He smiles.
“You drive an hour to get to your gym?”
“Only on Fridays.” He holds his smile as he turns off the next exit.
“No wonder it takes you so long.” I silently watch the roads and signs as we maneuver through Sarasota.
He makes a left onto the road that leads to Bents Juvenile Detention Center. “This is where you work out?”
“Yes.” He parks the SUV, grabs his gym bag, and looks at me. “You coming?”
“Ah, yeah.” I jump out of the vehicle and follow him inside.
“Mr. Daxon.” A security guard greets us at a gated, locked door.
“Rex, how are you?” Lix walks through with a nod.
