AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I swallow a sighed curse. Shit. If he noticed, God knows who else did. “It’s just a habit, buddy.”
“Does it hurt?”
Always. “Nah. Just stiff. Don’t worry about it.”
“I’m not.” August pauses. A chair creaks and footsteps sound before he speaks again, his voice hushed in a way that makes me imagine him skulking around a corner, glancing over his shoulder. “Mama is.”
Knuckling my sternum to ease the sudden ache blooming behind it, I clear my throat. “Is she there?”
“Yeah,” he answers slowly, drawing out the word, doing the same to the question that follows. “You wanna talk to her?”
So, so badly, but I hardly think the sentiment is returned, but I also don’t think that matters because August doesn’t wait for a response. He barely asks the question before there’s a whoosh of air, a crackle as he covers the mic, the undeniable sound of a quick, hissed argument before reluctantly, a sweet, accented voice makes my knees almost buckle. “Hello?”
For the first time in two months, I can breathe. “Sunday.”
I seem to have the opposite effect on her; Sunday’s breath catches, holding for a long moment before releasing with a soft but strained, “Hi, Cass.”
Considering how long I’ve spent thinking about what I would say to her next time we talked, it’s a little embarrassing when all that comes out is, “How are you?”
“Fine.”
I wince, and I think she does too.
“I’m okay,” she amends. “Really. Just a little tired and sore.” She pauses before adding, “I have a check-up tomorrow.”
“A sweep?”
“Maybe. If they think it’s necessary.”
“You’re in pain, Sunday. Surely that makes it necessary.”
“I—”
A loud, obnoxiously musical knock on my door interrupts her.
“Hold on a sec,” I say, quickly crossing the room, yanking it open, and scowling at the tall, blonde interruption.
“Hey, handsome,” she starts to greet, trailing off with a pouty frown when I hold up a hand. Understanding dawns when I point at my phone, and my unexpected visitor nods, winking as she holds a finger to her lips.
“Sorry,” I say into my phone, rolling my eyes at the woman wiggling her brows suggestively. “What were you saying?”
“Nothing.” One quiet word floods me with the overwhelming sense that I’ve done something wrong, a feeling that grows when she adds, “Have fun.”
It takes a full second of listening to the dial tone beeping before I realize she hung up on me.
“Oh, buddy,” Penelope Jacobs croons. “First drink’s on me.”
48
CASS
“You,my friend, are a dumbass of monumental proportions.”
Reluctantly, I clink my glass against the one Pen extends towards me in some weird, insulting cheers before throwing back the godawful bottom shelf tequila she insisted on ordering—can’t nurse a broken heart on good liquor,she claimed. “Wow. Big word for Penny.”
She thumps my bad shoulder on purpose. “Fuck you.”
Ordinarily, I’d never miss a chance to quip about having been there, done that. I swear, even at her engagement party, under the watchful eye of her incredibly tolerant spouse-to-be, I cracked a few. But the familiar urge doesn’t strike me now. The thought makes me feel a little ill, actually. Like I’d be doing something wrong. Something disrespectful.
