“It’ll pain me more not to have my favorite blocker,” Janine said with a pout.
“Are you going to come with me to the final match this weekend?” Elle asked Alex once they were inside the car.
“Can I stay home and hang out by myself?”
She flinched at the idea, gripping the steering wheel. “No. I want you to come with me.”
“But why? You’re not even skating. I just want to hang at home. Play Xbox and stuff.”
“We’ll have fun. We’ll get pizza at the rink,” she said through pursed lips. She didn’t tell him the truth—that she could barely stomach letting him out of her sight.
He kicked his foot against the floor of the passenger seat.
“Alex, don’t do that,” she said, as she changed lanes.
“I just don’t feel like going. First you won’t let me take the bus, and you always let me take it last year. You’re treating me like a baby. Now I have to go to a game you’re not even skating in. Can’t I just chill? What if Rex and Tyler come over?”
But before she could say no one more time, her phone buzzed in the console.
“Want me to see if that’s Colin?” Alex asked, grabbing the phone.
“I’ll look at it later,” she said hastily, as the truck in front of her slowed. She didn’t want Alex seeing any messages from Colin, though they hadn’t exchanged many dirty ones lately. Still, her phone was private. It was hers.
“Mom.”
She hadn’t heard that tone in years.
His voice was laced with fear.
She snapped her gaze to him, and her son was staring at the screen, jaw agape.
Pure, primal terror burst through her, like a dam breaking. “What is it?”
But she knew.
It could only be one thing.
“Who sent you this?” he asked, his voice thin as a thread, cold as winter.
She yanked the wheel right and pulled into the lot at a Burger King. Slamming the car into park, she grabbed the phone from him.
The hairs on her neck rose.
Pretty ladies should be smarter about who they get INVOLVED with.
The phone slid from her hand, clattering to the console.
“What is this?” Alex asked again.
She inhaled deeply then did her best to channel a calmness she didn’t even come close to feeling. “I’ve been getting some strange messages.”
He shook his head adamantly then stabbed his finger against the screen. “This isn’t strange, Mom. It’s fucking creepy. It’s stalkerish. Who is sending you these?”
“I don’t know,” she said, her hold on a cool, collected tone faltering.
“Someone who doesn’t want you to be with Colin.” His voice rose with every word.
She bit her lip and managed a small nod. “It seems that way.”
His eyes widened as big as the moon. “Mom! I like Colin. He’s a cool guy. But seriously, this is freaking me out.”
It was freaking her out, too. More than she could ever have imagined. But she couldn’t let on. She had to stay strong for Alex. She had to be titanium.
“Colin is working on it,” she said, taking her time with each word. “He’s working on figuring it out, and we’ll make it stop.”
“‘We’?” he asked, arching an angry eyebrow. “Who’s ‘we’? You and Colin? Or you and me? Or you and—”
“I’ve got this. I’ve got this under control. You don’t need to worry about it.”
“Just like when you had things under control with Dad?”
She held up her index finger. “That is not fair. And this is not the same.”
“You’re right,” he said, spitting out the words. “It’s not the same. Because he’s not Dad. He’s just a guy.”
“Alex,” she said, but she let her voice trail off because he was right. Colin was just a guy. Alex was her flesh and blood.
He stopped talking, crossed his arms, and slumped down in the seat.
“Let me get you home and make you dinner,” she said, as calmly as she possibly could.
She stuffed her phone into her purse in the backseat, as if that would erase the message. But the text was still there, staring at her, breathing hot fumes on her like it had a pulse, a heartbeat. Like a shadow that lurked by her side. Colin had thought a Royal Sinner was sending these to her, and she was sure now that he was right. Sure, too, that someone in the Royal Sinners didn’t want Colin in her life.
Seemed her son felt the same way.
* * *
He didn’t talk to her at dinner. All he said was “thanks.” He got up from the table, finished his homework, showered, and went to bed.
“Night.”
Barely a word.
Just like that year.
The year he didn’t talk.
The year he was nearly destroyed by his father’s death.
She sank down on her couch and ran her hand over the back of her neck. Her sparrows. Her guide to finding her way home. This was her home, here in this apartment, with her son, who she loved madly, fiercely, to the ends of the earth and back again. He was her home, and she’d helped him find his way back to her after he’d lost his father. She’d do it again, and again, and again. She reached for a framed picture of him on the coffee table—his fourth grade school photo, where he wore a goofy, toothy grin. A small smile surfaced as she ran her finger over it. A tear threatened her eyes, but she refused to allow it to appear. She would not wallow. She would not weaken.
She had one goal in life and it was to take care of her son, no matter what.
Colin had told her he had some leads and was tracking them down, and she was grateful for that. Damn grateful. But as she set down the photo, she knew.
Knew it was time to hit the brakes.
Ironic, because she thought it would be the past with pills and the drinking that were her deal breakers. But she’d gotten over the addiction issue faster than she’d imagined she would. This new threat, though? She didn’t know for certain if the texts were because of her involvement with Colin. But they sure seemed to be tied to his past. Not the addiction, the history he’d proven time and time again that he’d moved beyond. His other past.
The one he had zero control over.
Through no fault of his own, that past had resurfaced to the present. The past where a gangland shooter killed his father, and the present where a member of that same street gang was harassing her. All because she was in love with him.
Holy shit.
In love.
She was in love with him.
That was going to make it so much harder to do the right thing.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
He wished he could be there with her. Holding her ’til she fell asleep. Kissing her forehead as her eyelids fluttered closed. Brushing loose strands of hair away from her face.
Instead, from the wooden swing on the back deck of his house, Colin zoomed in on the screenshot Elle had sent him a few hours ago. The one of her newest text. A night breeze tripped through the trees as he studied the message. He stared so long he let his vision go blurry. The message turned hazy around the edges of the words, and the letters seemed to float off the screen.
Ladies. Smarter. Pretty.
Then one word, in all caps, slammed into him.
INVOLVED.
He tapped in the community center’s web address into a search bar. Quickly he found Elle’s bio, where it said she prided herself on being involved with the local community.
In his head, he replayed the messages.
Be careful who you get involved with.
Hey, pretty lady. Don’t you be messing around with that new guy. WJ.