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There was a slight pause, him likely expecting Nyx. “Is she okay?” he asked.
“No,” I said, honestly. “If you thought she looked like shit when she came to see you, she looks about ten times worse now.”
“Motherfuckers,” he hissed, voice tight like he was talking out from between gritted teeth.
“Yeah,” I agreed. “But they won’t touch her again,” I added, tone heavy, since I couldn’t say the words, what with prison calls being screened and shit.
“Yeah,” he agreed. Almost as if he had already heard somehow.
“Word is… the comic book collectors are moving on to more… profitable areas.”
Comic book collectors.
Nyx had mentioned referring to the drugs as comic books when she’d visited him.
“I got word that might be happening,” I said, nodding.
“I wanted to confirm the rumors. I know how much Nyx was worried about the collectors wanting her comic books.”
“I appreciate it,” I said, glancing over at Nyx.
A woman we both clearly loved.
And I got to count myself lucky until the end of my damn days that she’d chosen me.
“What’s it mean for you when you get out?” I asked.
“Got at least another year before that,” he said. “But things are… in flux now. I don’t know what the future is going to look like.”
“Get that.”
“But if you’re asking about my intentions toward Nyx, I can accept that I lost here,” he said, and there was a mix of resignation and disappointment in his voice. “So long as you take care of her like she deserves. You don’t…” he said, letting the threat hang.
Whether he meant that he would come try to take her back, take me out for not treating her right, or both, I didn’t know.
“She’s in good hands, man,” I told him.
“Yeah,” he said, sighing. “Good to hear.”
With that, the call ended just as Nyx started to stir, likely woken up by my voice that, despite my best efforts, never came off all that quiet.
“Who was that?” she asked, slow blinking at me with her one good eye. The other one had swollen completely shut over the night.
“An old friend. Letting us know that everything is all settled,” I told her. “We don’t have to worry about anything anymore,” I added. “Except getting you well again.”
“I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but I think I need more of Morgaine’s toxic waste tea,” she said, whimpering as she tried to move.
“I’ll get you some,” I told her, leaning over to press a kiss to her forehead—one of the few spots on her face that wasn’t sporting massive damage.
“Hey, Strauss,” she called, voice small.
“Yeah, babe?”
“Every single thing sucks about this,” she said, waving at her face. “Except getting to wake up with you,” she told me.
“Lucky for you, you get to wake up with me forever.”
“Forever is a big word,” Nyx said.
