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“Yes, sir?” I say, trying to regulate my breathing. But it’s damn hard with this little shit in my arms.
I’m going to get him back for this once I hang up. Going to spank that ass, or fuck it. Might as well go out with a literal bang.
“Checking in,” he says. “How is he?”
I feel his teeth graze my skin and press him roughly into the wall once more.
“Fine. Being his usual bratty self.”
Anthony pauses and then says, “Good. I’d like the three of you to move to another safe house tomorrow. I’m growing worried, not knowing where Elio is.”
“Will do. Just send me the location and we’ll go.”
Diablo licks at my ear before biting down on it roughly.
A cough escapes me, and I frown. Fuck, he’s going to give me away.
“Do you want to speak to him?” I ask because how can I not?
Diablo freezes, his short breaths puffing in my ear.
“Yes. Put him on.”
The answer surprises me, and I pause for a moment before handing Diablo the phone. He fumbles with it, still attached to me, and I really have no desire to put him down. I just hold on to him as he speaks with his father.
It’s stilted and quick, the two of them hanging up a minute later, but as soon as the call ends Diablo looks almost dazed.
“He wanted to talk to me.”
“Of course he did. You’re his son.”
Diablo blinks a few times and then unwinds his legs from around my waist.
He pushes at my chest, trying to extricate himself from me, but I move in closer to him, crowding him against the wall.
“Move,” he says, his voice cracking.
“Look at me.”
“No,” he says, shutting his eyes and swallowing roughly.
I grab on to his chin and tilt his face up toward me.
“It’s okay to be vulnerable.”
A scoff leaves his mouth. “I’m not vulnerable. I’m not weak.”
“No, you’re not,” I say, my thumb skirting over his bottom lip. “What do you need? tell me.”
“I need to destroy something.”
Without another word, I grab on to his hand and lead him into that back bedroom, taking in the mess he made last night for the first time. It is utterly destroyed. The bookshelf that sat against the wall is cut into pieces, the mattress is torn apart. Sawdust lines the floors and the walls. A small haze sits in the air.
“Fuck, you did a number on it, didn’t you?”
He swallows again and doesn’t say a word, just moves inside and softly closes the door in my face.
And I let him go. When the whirring of the saw turns on, I feel my heart thump awkwardly in my chest.
