Page 28 of King of Pain (Damaged Hearts #1)

Toy Soldiers

Chance

I fire off a text to Murph as I sit at the kitchen table.

Me : Hey, Murph. How’s she doing?

Inhale.

Murph : Hey man. She’s good. Quiet. We’re running shifts posted across from the house. I tailed her to the grocery store yesterday. She looks good. No bruises or anything.

Exhale.

Me : Good. Thanks for keeping an eye on her. I worry.

Murph : You know I’ve got her. Doves take care of their own. How’re things out there?

I feel bad. I haven’t really caught up with Murph since I got here.

Just quick wellness checks on how Ma’s doing.

I glance around the apartment. The kitchen that suddenly has fancy utensils and spices I can’t even pronounce, the course books scattered on the dining table—and the guy currently asleep on the couch, Little G curled up under his arm.

Me : It’s beautiful. Good. I’m working at this record shop called Devil Records. Taking art classes. Trying to live normal for once.

Murph : Devil Records? That’s got your name all over it.

Me : Ha. Ha. But, yeah, it’s a good place. Chill. Good people. Keeps my head busy.

Murph : I hear that. Hey, have you heard from that guy Christian we used to run with recently?

Freezing a second, my thumb hovers over the screen.

Me : Christian?

Murph : Yeah. You two were tight, weren’t you?

Me : A little. He’s still in Boston, I think. We don’t talk much these days.

Murph : Huh. Thought you two were closer than that.

I frown at the screen. Why’s he asking about Christian now? Does he know?

Me : We were. Things got complicated.

Murph : Complicated how?

I rake a hand through my hair before typing.

Me : You know he comes from one of those old-money families, right? Big houses, country clubs, all about appearances. He hates it. Always has. But he’s stuck.

Murph : Yeah, but he never played into all that. That’s why he hung out with the likes of us, right?

Me : Yeah, he rebelled against it a little. But where it matters, like leaving, he doesn’t give himself that choice.

Murph : Sounds rough.

Me : It is. Why the sudden interest?

Murph : No reason. Forget I mentioned it.

Weird.

Me : Hey, thanks again for keeping an eye on Ma.

Murph : Always. Focus on your new life out there. I’ve got it handled here.

Me : Appreciate you, Murph. Stay safe.

Murph : You too, brother.

I set my phone down, leaning back against the couch. I’m not sure why Murph is bringing up Christian. If he knew anything, he’d just call me out. Murph’s blunt like that. Really doesn’t matter anymore. Christian and I are done.

Ma’s safe. That’s all that matters.

I decide to text her directly. It feels good to hear from her, especially now that the holidays are coming up.

Me : Hey, Ma. How’s everything?

It only takes her a few minutes to reply.

Ma : Hi, baby! Everything’s fine here. What about you? Are you taking care of yourself?

Me : Yeah, I’m good. Things still calm with him? What about Thanksgiving? You’re not doing all that cooking for just him, are you?

There’s a brief but weighted pause. Holidays were always the worst with my father.

Ma : No, I’m not, and don’t worry about him. I have no plans to be alone with him. One of his officers invited us to Thanksgiving dinner, and I refused to cook this year anyway since you’re not here.

Relief washes over me.

Me : That’s a good idea. He won’t show his ass in front of other people.

Ma : Exactly. What about you? What are you doing for Thanksgiving?

I glance toward the kitchen, where Ant’s handwritten menu is stuck to the fridge. The thought of spending the day with him and a few friends has me feeling something I don’t quite know how to name yet.

During my last Sunday call with Ma, I talked about Ant and how he’s staying with me. Probably not my smartest move on a video call. I’m pretty sure she saw right through me.

Me : Ant decided we’re doing Friendsgiving. He’s cooking up a whole feast, like, a ridiculous spread, Ma. Turkey, Italian stuffing, lasagna, all kinds of stuff.

Ma : Ooh, that sounds amazing. You’re lucky to have someone like that around.

Me : I know. I was just going to do takeout.

Ma : Well, it sounds like he saved you from yourself. So, how’s school going? Are you still liking your art classes?

I think of my last conversation with my instructor, who seems genuinely impressed by my work. I’m not used to compliments, and his encouragement has been a nice boost.

Me : Yeah, actually. Mateo, my instructor, says he’s impressed with my work. He says I have real potential.

Ma : Ooh, Mateo. Sounds swarthy.

I groan, rolling my eyes at my phone.

Me : Oh my God, Ma. I can’t believe you just said that.

Ma : What? Is he not handsome?

I sigh, knowing exactly what she’s doing and where this is going.

I send her the ‘IT’S A TRAP’ GIF from Star Wars .

Ma: Answer the question.

Me : I mean, yeah, he’s attractive. But I have zero interest.

Her reply is wicked fast and strikes the target with precision.

Ma : Let me guess. A certain Italian boy sleeping on your couch at night?

And there it is. She knows me too well.

Me : Sigh, how’d you know?

Ma : I know my son. I hope I get to video call with you guys soon. I bet he’s sexxxy.

Me : Ma!

Her laughing emoji response cracks me up, embarrassment aside.

Ma : I’m just saying. I’m so proud of you, Chance. You’re making a life for yourself.

It takes me a moment to reply. It’s hard to text with wet eyes.

Me : Thanks, Ma. That means a lot.

Ma : Have a great time at Thanksgiving, baby. And send me pictures of all the food. It sounds wonderful.

Me : Will do. Love you, Ma.

Ma : Love you too, baby.

As the conversation ends, I set my phone down and reflect on our conversation. I’m building something good here. Ma’s right about that.

She’s also right about that certain sexy Italian currently stirring awake on my couch… and in my heart.