"Okay."
Trip said something on the other end that made Sonny laugh again. "Trip says hi."
"Tell him I said hi back." I sighed. "Love you, Son."
It was impossible not to miss the smile in his voice. "Love you too, kid."
Oh boy. That conversation hadn't exactly gone the way I'd expected it to. Now that I thought about it, the last two conversations I'd had with Sonny had been disturbing. We should probably stick to text messaging from now on.
I wonder if I could get by communicating with Dex by only texting too?
Ugh, I was such a coward.
My half-assed attempt at going back to Sonny's had been the least hearted thing ever. What it came down to was, did I like staying with The Dick? Yes. Did I like him? That was the problem. I liked him too much. He was a member of the Widowmakers, kind of a half-assed one, but a member nonetheless. I was just me. Tattoo-less. Homeless. Poor. Untalented.
Yeah. I was definitely throwing myself a pity party. Yia-yia would be rolling in her grave if she knew.
When was the last time I'd felt so little for myself? I'd always been tattoo-less, homeless, poor and untalented, so why did it matter all of a sudden? I was alive and healthy, and most of the time that was all I wanted. Genuinely, it was all I needed. Yet here I was, giving myself pathetic reasons why I should stay away from Dex.
An ex-felon with a temper that owned his own shop. Talented, employed, a homeowner and tatted. My antithesis.
But he was kind, thoughtful and caring when he wanted to be. And he'd never let me down, if you didn't count the night he left me alone at his house, which I wasn't.
I could hear my mom saying, "You could do much worse, Ris."
What was the worst that would happen?
I'd end up like my mom.
Shit.
The stomping of boots on the stairs yanked me out of my thoughts. There were low murmurs accompanying what seemed like a hoard of men clomping their way downstairs.
When a certain black-haired man didn't appear in the doorway, I heaved a sigh and got up, making my way up the stairs in hopes that I'd find Dex there instead of down in the bar. It wasn't like I wanted to have a face-to-face, but I wanted to go to his house. As soon as I cleared the landing, the scent of cigarette drifted through the doorway. He was standing off to the side in the room, his back against the corner of the wall. A faint orange ember dotted a circle right between his fingers.
Dex's face was down as he pulled at the cigarette, a cloud of smoke distorted his face before a breeze carried it away.
"Hey," I called out to him, making my way toward the chairs across from the desk he'd sat at when I'd gotten my butthole ripped for disappearing.
His eyes flicked up, keeping his chin tucked. "Lemme finish this and we can go."
I nodded and plopped my butt onto the couch furthest away from the window he was at, failing at biting back a scowl at the smell he was putting off. He sucked in another breath before blowing it out slowly, narrowing his eyes.
"You don't like the smell?"
"Nope." Eyeing the stub in his hand, I wrinkled my nose. Now the logical part of my brain recognized that I should avoid talking to him. If I did, maybe we could both forget what happened in his office. But if I kept talking to him, it would be like throwing bait into shark infested waters. Even realizing that, I kept talking. "I don't like that whole cancer thing you can get from them either."
He brought the cigarette back up to his mouth, holding it between his index finger and thumb. "You're not gonna nag at me to quit?"
What? "You're a big boy, Dex. And I'm sure you don't like people hounding you." He lifted both eyebrows up like in acknowledgment that I was right. "It'd be nice if you quit so you wouldn't have to worry about getting lung cancer but it's your life. Your body." I smiled at him, the honesty just kind of pouring from my mouth. "I care about you and I hope that you don't ever go through something like that if you can help it."
Dex's mouth didn't form a smile but the way the creases at the corners of his eyes pulled back, it looked like he was trying not to. "Oh yeah?"
And he thought I needed reassurances. "Yes." I confirmed what I'd said. The thought of seeing big, strong Dex with his healthy, bright tattoos, laying withered on a hospital bed physically hurt me.
"I only smoke a couple a day," he argued.
That warm feeling I associated with my mom gripped my chest. "You don't get to choose." For once in a very long time, I wanted to tell him how I knew for a fact that cancer wasn't a bigot or particular about who it went after but the words just wouldn't come out.
One shoulder went up in what wasn't acceptance or denial. "No, I guess ya don't, babe."
Dex looked at me for a long moment, his face pensive and calm under the thick black stubble that had grown on his cheeks over the day. Neither one of us said anything as he took the last pull between his lips. Holding the cigarette between his fingers, he stared at the lit tip with pursed lips before leaning out the window and stubbing it out on the brick building.
He closed the window and leaned against the wall like he had been. Dex swept a finger over his upper lip, trailing his eyes back over in my direction. His head ticked to the side. "You heard what everybody's callin' me now?"
I raised an eyebrow, forgetting that the last thing I needed was to get playful with him. "A nerd?"
"No." It looked like he wanted to smile again but he managed not to. "Your majesty."
Just because he wasn't smiling didn't mean I wouldn't. I snorted, loud. "I like it."
His facial expression didn't change at all. Those blue eyes were too intent, too focused to assure me that I'd get through this day—heck, this week—unscathed. "Know when the last time someone came up with a nickname for me was?"
I shook my head.
"Fifth grade," he explained coolly. "Poindexter."
I had to bite my lip to keep from grinning.
Still, he didn't smile. Dex just kept on looking. "I beat the shit outta the kid that came up with it. Got expelled from school, too."
Also, not a surprise, but I couldn't understand why he was telling me this. Not that I didn't appreciate learning about him but there had to be a message he was trying to put across. "Are you going to beat the crap out of me?"
"Ritz," he sighed. "You trust me?"
I blinked. "Why are you asking?"
"You trust me, or not?"
Did I? It took me less than a heartbeat to decide that after Sonny, I probably trusted Dex the most. And that was even over Will. What that said about the lack of people of in my life, I had no idea, but I didn't care. "Yes," I answered him a little breathless.
"You sure?"
"Yeah," I told him again. I did. "Absolutely."
He rubbed that finger over his lip again. "Absolutely," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head. "You think I trust you?"
There wasn't a need for me to wonder about the answer to his question. It was instinctive. This was the man who told me things about his childhood, his family. He'd shown me his spare bedroom. I couldn't have fought the strain in my chest if I tried. "Yes."
Dex planted both of his hands on the desk in front of him and leaned forward. "I tried all night to think of somebody I trust as much as you and I could only come up with one. One fuckin' person out of everybody in the world, babe," he let me know.
The sudden urge to cry and smile had me make some kind of stupid face.
"My ma," he said. "The only person who knows me better than you do is Ma and that's cheatin'. Not my sisters or my brothers, babe. Just. You."
I couldn’t breathe.
“I really didn’t wanna like you, honey. A part of me still doesn’t,” he said, his expression guarded. “You’re not the kinda person I had in mind for the shop. But your damn brother begged me to hire you, threatened my future kids if I wasn’t nice to his baby sister. And now you’re here.”