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I scoff inwardly. He’s already a better man than his father with little effort. The bacteria on the underside of my shoe is superior to Big Daddy K. Fuck. I need to change the subject before my face betrays everything. “You know, we haven’t really talked much about ourselves. Your mom…is she around?”
Johnny’s face shuts down. It doesn’t darken or harden, it just loses all emotion whatsoever except a vacantness that I can tell has been perfected over the years. “My mother left when I was a kid.”
“Your mother…left?” The leaving part more than anything is the most shocking piece of information out of his entire sentence.She got out? Holy shit.Howdid she do that?
It opens up so many questions in my head, including how and why, and whether Big Daddy K let her out or if she escaped. At the same time, though, I feel for the guy in front of me. As stoic as he’s trying to be, any time a parent leaves, whether purposefully or tragically, it sucks. His gaze darts to me and then moves away immediately. “It was a long time ago, Kyla. You can stop looking at me like I’m going to come apart.”
I sit up straighter in my seat, avoiding his gaze. I flick my stare toward the TV screens, but racingisboring as fuck, like I imagined. When the waitress brings our food, I’m happy for the change in context. Bringing up Johnny’s mom seems to have soured the night for him. He eats a mouthful of each dish we ordered and finishes his drink, but he doesn’t do it out of pleasure. He really is all business.
Me? I’m so hungry from training that I have no problem polishing off the different appetizers. They’re not over-the-top delicious, but they’re not terrible either. I mean, it’s fried food. It’s kind of hard to fuck up. Shortly after I practically lick the plates clean, Johnny asks for the check. The waitress tells us the owner covered it, so Johnny helps me stand. Placing my arm through his, we walk toward the older gentleman to thank him for our food. Johnny tells him they’ll keep in touch, but I can’t tell if he means it. He’s just on edge all the way around, which has more to do with the question I asked him than whether he thinks the track is a viable business decision.
All semblance of normal conversation is gone. It’s disappeared into the ether. Probably hiding wherever Johnny put his good mood because it certainly isn’t on him anymore.
Magnum follows us out of the box seating, and I bite the inside of my cheek. Here I am with two guys in shitty moods. I also left another at the gym, pissy because of who I was leaving with. I just can’t win today.
I catch a guy’s eye as we head toward the exit. He leans against the ticket booth flirting with the girl inside when he gives me a stare down that lasts far longer than necessary. He wobbles on his feet. “Hey there, sweetheart. Don’t you look like a peach?”
I ignore him and continue on, but Johnny pulls my arm out from around his. He moves so lightning fast, I look back to find his fist already connecting with the guy’s face. The girl inside the booth gives a short scream as Johnny tackles him, the collar of the guy’s shirt clenched in his hands as he leans over him. “Maybe you missed the fact that her arm was in mine.” He punches him square in the jaw, and the guy’s head whiplashes back, hitting the dirt behind him. A trickle of blood runs from his nose, and he groans.
Johnny’s shoulders heave as he gulps in air. At first, neither Magnum nor I go for him. I’m not worried that the guy is going to try to hit him back. At this point, I’d be more worried that Johnny would lose his shit and just murder his ass. Instead, I watch as Johnny tries to collect his thoughts. He has one knee on the guy’s abdomen and one in the dirt. The girl in the booth has her hands over her mouth as she looks down at the scene. We’re probably too far away from the Heights for these two to know who he is, but that doesn’t mean they don’t understand when they’ve come across someone who gives zero fucks. Finally, I walk forward and place my hand on Johnny’s shoulder, squeezing him for good measure. He barely registers that I’m there. The internal war with himself still waging.
He peeks over at me. “Mine.”
I don’t like that word…necessarily. The way he’s saying it now gives me goosebumps from head-to-toe. I don’t know if it’s my body warning me off him or telling me that I really freaking like it when he says that. At least in this scenario.
I lick my lips. I can’t tell him the guy didn’t notice I was with him because he obviously did and was just drunk. Or didn’t care. I bet he wishes he cared now. “He’s not worth it,” I say instead, nose twitching over the smell of bitter alcohol. The guy probably won’t even remember how he ended up with a shiner a couple of hours from now.
I grab Johnny by the upper arm and drag him up. His suit is dusty now, and he’s got the shakes from adrenaline coursing through him.
Magnum doesn’t say a word through the whole thing. Hell, he doesn’t even blink as Johnny and I make our way toward the car.
Though we’re right next to each other, a divide splits Johnny and I now. On the surface, that outburst was about me, but I’d bet everything I have it wasn’t. It was about something much, much deeper.
Magnum holds the car door open for us, and I scoot in first with Johnny following right after. Magnum closes the door and while he’s walking around to the front seat, Johnny glances down at his knuckles and says, “Don’t bring up my mother again.”
If that’s what he’s worried about, he could’ve saved himself the trouble of warning me off because I won’t be making that mistake again. At least not to him.
We stay on opposite sides of the car, but I want to go to him. Not because I think the sudden urge to fight was about his mother, but because he just showed he has the capacity to feel deeply after all. It wasn’t something I was sure he was capable of, but now I know.
I slide over the seat and place my head on his shoulder. Even asshole bad boys need comforting every once in a while.
11
When the car comes to a stop, Johnny gets out so abruptly I almost drop to the leather seat. I glare at his back, moving after him as he stalks toward the elevators. We wait in tense silence as the elevator moves down to collect us. Magnum doesn’t follow us. Briefly, I glance over my shoulder and find him still in the car. The interior light is on, and he’s watching us, unmoving and unwavering. The back of my neck pricks, but then the elevator dings and we step inside.
In the confined space, it’s easy to tell just how heated Johnny is. For a moment, in the car, I thought he was better. I was wrong. His fists clench and unclench. He avoids looking at me, even though it feels as if I’m the only thing he wants to focus on at the same time.
I refuse to apologize for bringing his mother up. Isn’t talking about the past what people do when they’re in a relationship? Even a forced one?
Though, that’s just me being petty. I don’t think I’m being forced anymore. I hate that he’s upset. I want to make it better, which just makes me all that much more frustrated and lost. The elevator dings with each floor we move up, and with it, it’s like the countdown to a volcano erupting.
Johnny takes his phone out of his pocket when we reach their floor. He glares at the screen. “My dad needs to see me.”
Fuck that. I’m not sitting in his apartment thinking about how fucking furious he is right now. He claims he wants me so bad, then we can talk this out. “No.”
Johnny’s gaze moves to meet mine. His pupils dilate. “No?”
The elevator door opens. The two guards waiting outside immediately turn toward us, but it’s just another added layer of tension hovering over us. I shake my head. “Not before we talk this through.”