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Mikel nodded as he headed out of the store. “Can you not mention to Joe that you saw me?”
June’s eyes narrowed.
“Sure, man,” Isaiah agreed.
“Thanks. I’ll see you around.” Or never. Except for passing encounters in town, he had no intention of meeting them again.
His sobriety was like walking a tightrope most days. He didn’t need the extra temptation. He wished he could help Isaiah, but Mikel had learned the hard way that the desire for change had to come from within, not others. He had to be willing to do whatever it took to get clean and stay that way because every day was a fucking battle.
Remy didn’t need any reason to doubt him. He had the woman of his dreams and the daughter he ached to know and provide for. Nothing would get in his way. It was time he took his happiness in his own hands, letting go of the past. If Remy could see beyond his failures, so could he. He would do anything to be the man she deserved and the father Lyra needed.
If only fate would agree.
* * *
Later that week, Mikel walked into Bently’s house. He’d spent the last few days getting reacquainted with their company, and reorganizing the books. It had always been Andre’s least favorite task, and unfortunately, it showed.
“Jaz?” Bently called from the living room.
Mikel turned and headed towards his brother. “It’s just me.”
Bently lay on the couch, covered in sweat and paler than a ghost.
“You okay?” Seeing his brother in this position was like having the wind knocked out of him every time he laid eyes on him. Each day this week he’d come home from his treatments weaker than he’d been the day before.
“Just peachy,” Bently joked.
“You had another treatment today?”
“Yeah, they’re being aggressive. Gives me a better chance.”
Of not dying.Mikel couldn’t help his morbid thoughts. His big brother had always been a rock, an unbreakable figure he could look up to in life. This isn’t fair. After everything they’d been through, Bently was the last person who deserved this. “You want something to eat or drink?”
Bently closed his eyes and grimaced. “Nah. Too nauseous to eat.”
“Weed might help that,” Mikel joked.
Bently’s eyes shot open. “You better be joking.”
Mikel chuckled. “I’m not saying I’m above using my connections in this town to get you a little herbal relief. But your doctor could give you a medical marijuana card. So even you, Mister Sheriff, wouldn’t be breaking the law.”
Bently relaxed into the pillow. “The last thing I need is you near that world again. I mean it, Mikel. You got a fresh start and a chance with a good woman who’s been to hell and back because of your screw-ups. Don’t fuck this up.”
Don’t I know it.“I won’t. I’m not that guy anymore.”
Bently nodded and closed his eyes.
Mikel walked into the kitchen, searching the cupboards for a can of soup. While the food heated on the stove, he grabbed a bottle of water and a tray.
After setting the steaming bowl of chicken noodle soup in the center, he added a napkin and a spoon along with the water.
His brother’s eyes were still closed when he returned. Placing the tray on the coffee table beside him, Mikel said, “Here. You need to keep up your strength. Try to eat some.”
Bently’s eyes flickered open as Mikel sat on the table next to the meal he’d prepared. Taking the warm bowl in his hands, he dipped the spoon in and offered it to his brother.
Bently growled and pushed off the couch so that he could sit, holding his head for a few moments as if the movement had been too jarring. Mikel waited patiently. Bently reached out and grabbed the bowl and spoon. “I can feed myself. I’m not an invalid.”
“Didn’t say you were.”
