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“Oh, Benny,” Mama Christina cries as she enters the room. What a sight she must see. Marcus holding me up, me bleeding into my shirt, and the broken mirror. My moment of weakness. She marches over to us, her chin quivering, and encases us in a delicate hug. Her head falls to the side, her forehead connecting with mine in this awkward embrace thing we’ve got going on. I wish this connection could bring me what it is giving them.
I finally convince Marcus that I can stand on my own and he backs away but keeps his hand on my shoulder. Christina immediately takes to my hand and makes it her mission to fix me up. Once she assesses it, she takes off out of the room in search of first aid and comes scurrying back in a matter of seconds. Marcus sits on the bed and lifts a stuffed sloth from his daughter’s collection. He holds it close to his chest and squeezes his eyes shut. With Christina’s direction, I sit on the bench beneath the bathroom vanity where Lennox does her makeup.
“Are you hurt anywhere else?”Other than the obvious discomfort in my chest?I finish silently.
“No ma’am. Just this.”
“You need to eat something. Get some sugar in your system. You look pale. And you need some rest. Lots of rest,” she rambles. “I’m going to fix up a guest bedroom for you and you’re going to go in there to shower and get some sleep. Do I make myself clear?” Her stern tone brooks no argument, but there is no way I am staying here and mooching off of these people even more than I do. I’ve been a damn near permanent fixture in their guest house for a while now.
“I’m fine with heading home and sleeping there.”
“Benny,” she scolds. “I will not have another one of my babies suffering alone. You are staying here and you have a room here for as long as you need or want. But tonight, you don’t have a choice. Walk your ass over to that room—”
“Christina,” Marcus chides gently, understanding this is likely the last thing I want to do, but she doesn’t give a shit. She’s in full mama-bear mode.
“No! No, Marcus. I’ve lost one child and I refuse—” Her face contorts into that gutting cry face that women always get, the one that turns men into fumbling fools every fucking time. This instance being no exception. Marcus stands and cradles his wife’s face in his hands.
“Okay, honey. Okay. Benny is going to go shower and change and eat whatever you feed him, then he is going to get some rest under our roof. Okay?” Marcus finds me over his shoulder and implores me to comply with what he’s just promised her. I shake my head, but he arches a brow. I can at least give him this one thing.
I clear my throat, regretting the thought before it even forms into words. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, I’ll stay here, but just for tonight.” This makes her grin and I fight to keep in my groan.
CHAPTERTWENTY-FIVE
BENNY
Two weekssince I’ve seen her face.
I’m surrounded by everything that is Lennox Ford. My girl. The love of my life.
My missing girl.
Germaine, Mama Mallory, Mama Christina, Marcus, and I are all sitting in Nox’s mansion. No Trace. I haven’t seen him since the night she went missing—not sure why the hell he hasn’t been around. I miss my best friend and could really use his presence and brand of darkness right now, but I’m also furious at his disappearance.
We’ve been here for hours spending time together, commiserating as we waited on the police. When they arrived, I told them everything I figured out about C.C.C. being hired to take Lennox out. I didn’t snitch on anyone, because I wouldn’t betray the fragile trust my contacts have in me for that. Just put the bug in their ear. I gave them my thought process, not actually confirming anything. They wrote everything I said and assured me they would look into it.
Lennox has money. She isn’t some gangbanger. Her involvement with any sort of criminal organization is beyond her control. So I have hope that they will actually do what they say. With entities like the Hellions or Capital City Chaos, police do the minimum required to look into things, then let most shit fly under the radar. They can’t with all the hush money they’re getting paid. Not with this. Someone tried to kill my girl and when that failed, they took her from me. I will do whatever I can to make sure this case doesn’t run cold. I have to believe in the justice system. It’s what I stand for now. While I know the system is still corrupt, I can force those changes right now. I don’t need a degree to do it. The Sheriff has all the info as well and is doing as much as he can.
Eventually, the house gets back to its normal nightly routine. I only know this because I’ve been here every night for dinner, hoping being here will make me feel closer to her. It does in a way, but then it doesn’t. It makes the ache in my chest grow and the loneliness I feel—the guilt—get stronger. My schedule has never been so consistent, but my boss insisted I take some time off. My professors have allowed me to audit classes instead of attending them, but I’ve been keeping up with my coursework. I won’t let that fall to the wayside and ruin what I’ve built. I have to do this for Lennox, because she’ll be so disappointed if something involving her is the reason I don’t finish my degree.
But I need something to fill my time and keep my mind busy. There is no way I can just sit at home in my apartment by myself. So I come every night and help make dinner. Then I eat with my family and we end up on the couch, all of us watching T.V. in silence. The mood is sometimes happy, but most of the time it’s somber. We have little to say.
Junie tries to make jokes and act like things are normal, but we all know they aren’t. She’s taking this just as hard as I am.
There is a massive void where Lennox once was. A dark cloud hanging over all of us when we realize she isn’t dead, just gone. Who knows what the hell is happening to her?
Those are the parts we don’t like to think about. We prefer to act like she’s dead because in the fucked up world we are in, that would be easier to handle. But how do you mourn someone when there isn’t a body or closure? How do you lay someone to rest when your mind knows anything can happen to them and there isn’t a damn thing you can do about it?
Everyone always says that when their loved one dies, they know. They can’t explain it, they just know. Every story I’ve ever read ends the same way and those that are missing indeed are found dead. I don’t have that feeling with Lennox.
Does that mean she is still alive?
That just makes it worse. Knowing she’s out there suffering somewhere. The thought makes me want to rage and burn the world down to save my girl. Being in this place with the will and slight connections to do something about it, but not actually being capable of solving it, is torturous. I’m doing everything I can to force the situation, but it isn’t going well. I don’t have a good feeling about our conversation with the police and my contacts are giving up little about the situation.
Gentle sniffles pull me from my morose thoughts, and I blink up to find Junie standing over me. She’s holding a beat up gray t-shirt with tons of holes in it.
It’s just perfect,Lennox used to say when I’d pick on the state of her sleep shirt. My throat tightens and my eyes burn with unshed tears. I’ve cried so much I didn’t think I had anymore left in me, but where my girl is concerned, I do. My love for her burns so deeply that any time I’ve spent away from her, any evening I had to work late or study instead of being with her, makes me ache with regret. Each time I told her I couldn’t make it to a race or to watch her practice because my studies were too important urges my lungs to scream how sorry I am that I didn’t give her enough of my time. She deserves…deserved better than me.
Junie is already crying. Her puffy cheeks shimmer with the evidence and her eyes swell, laced with red that looks itchy and uncomfortable. Her normally put together hair is all kinds of wavy and disorganized in a makeshift bun on top of her head.
