Page 2 of Requiem Of Him (Of Solace And Sin #1)

LEVI

EIGHT YEARS LATER

‘ Novocaine’ Too Close To Touch, Bad Omens

I wouldn’t say I’m stupid by any stretch of the imagination.

I did make it this far without too many hiccups, but this was probably one of the shittier decisions I’ve made, getting in the car with Jameson when he’s this emotional.

Even if he wasn’t wearing his emotions plain as day, I could feel them suffocating us.

Under any other circumstances, I’d trust Jameson implicitly.

He’d been in my life ever since I set foot in Atlanta, whether I wanted him to be or not.

He appointed himself my best friend, and the rest was history.

But the more I dissected him, the more I was convinced befriending him would expose me.

I didn’t expect some uppity punk kid to be the heir to the Godfrey dynasty.

The two of us would’ve never been in the same circles, simply because I refused to be involved in the upper crust bullshit, but our grandparents did, and that could’ve fucked me any day of the week. Somehow, it never happened.

The moment Onyx called him, I knew something had happened, but it became abundantly clear how serious the situation was when Jameson’s personal security, who he bulked against and refused to cooperate with, flooded his office and had his stepfather on the phone moments later.

They bullied their way into Jameson’s office with a half-cocked plan of getting Nyx out, but it was idiotic for them to believe anyone other than Jameson could get Nyx without so much as a hair out of place on either of their heads.

Especially while Alessio was occupying that tomb of a house.

Alessio was volatile on a good day, but when he was intentionally provoking Jameson… no one wanted to be around for that.

In the years I’ve known Jameson, I’d never seen him care about one of his boys before, but this boy was different for some reason I couldn’t understand.

He cared about him on a surface level that made Jameson a decent boss to work for, but this was above and beyond.

Of course I didn’t hate Nyx, but I wasn’t going to go out of my way to save him from himself or the devil he’d invited into his life.

Nyx was many things, but na?ve wasn’t one of them.

And if he wanted to get in bed with one of the Kahn twins, that was on him entirely.

After a warning from Jameson and myself, I thought he would steer clear of Alessio.

I guess I was wrong in thinking he wasn’t bullheaded.

Even knowing who else might very well be in that house, I still got in the passenger seat as soon as Jameson hung up with his stepfather.

“What is it about this kid for you, Jameson?” I could have kept my mouth shut, but the question is out before I can stop myself.

His jaw clenches, the tendons bunching together so tight they look ready to snap from the pressure.

Stress permeates the SUV as we smoothly navigate the streets of downtown Atlanta, and my question lingers in the air like a weighted balloon.

If I had the capacity for it, I would empathize with him, but that’s why Jameson and I would always be worlds apart.

He cares so deeply for his people and would bend over backwards to make sure they’re taken care of, and somehow Nyx had become one of those people like I had.

I can’t explain how it happened or even when it happened, but once Jameson decides you’re his, there’s no going back.

When he still doesn’t answer the question, I peek at him again, hoping to see some indication of what he’s thinking, but there isn’t a single trace of emotion on his face any longer.

The closer we get to his family estate, the less anyone would be able to see the real Jameson.

He tucks those pieces of himself away until he’s unrecognizable, and as easily as I’d grown used to it, it still pains me to see the God forsaken sunshine in him snuffed out so quickly just to survive.

I want to press him again, but it wouldn’t do any good.

Jameson has checked out. A heavy silence fills the SUV as Banks’ “Judas” plays for the fifth time.

My fingers itch to change the song to anything else, anything that wouldn’t force me to reminisce and drown in memories of my life before Atlanta.

Even though I know it’s nearly impossible to outrun who I was, I still fucking try.

To this day I’m still running, and I don’t know if I’ll ever stop—which is a prime example as to why getting in the car with Jameson was a less than stellar decision on my part, but if I back out now, it would raise too many questions. Ones I have no intention of answering.

I know who’s in that house with them. I’d served him countless times over the years when he was in town on business.

I knew his order like the back of my hand.

But I had never been more grateful for the choice to have minimal lighting at the bar than when I saw Cortland Thierry for the first time in five years, and he couldn’t even recognize me—still couldn’t.

I’d watched him from a safe distance from behind the bar of the Fallout for the past three years without a single fuck up, and here I was walking into the belly of the beast without any way to disguise myself.

Not a single person from home knew where I was, and I had fully intended to keep it that way, so Cortland knowing I’m in Atlanta will inevitably fuck everything up for me, and here I am helping the process along.

The further we stray from the city and into more residential areas, it becomes more desolate with the exception of a single streetlight I’d passed too many times to count, but every time I saw it, it felt like coming home…

even when I refused to believe it was. Dense forest and winding roads have become a comfort to me again over the years, but it wasn’t like that the first time Jameson brought me to his home.

They were what I was used to growing up in Louisiana, and I wanted any reminder of that time to be erased.

I hated it for so long, I gravitated toward the city to get away from anything that forced me to think of not only Cortland, but also my family.

Jameson never questioned it, and to this day, he struggles with tamping down the impulse to pry.

I feel it every time he looks at me, the hope that I will someday let him in.

He had it in his head that once we’d grown as closely as we did, I would spill my guts to him or maybe even his mother, but it was the only thing keeping them at a comfortable distance for me.

After nearly a decade, they still have no idea who I was or where I came from, just that I needed help and was too much of a stubborn fuck to ask for it.

As grateful as I am for everything Dr. Godfrey had done for me, helping me transition and reshaping me without so much as batting an eye, I still hold myself apart from her and her son.

They deserve better than what I am—a user.

I know as sure as I’m sitting here next to Jameson as we near his family estate that’s who I am at my core.

I didn’t have the heart to walk away from them when I should have then, and I don’t have it now.

It’s too good—they are too good to me. And I am more than happy to wring out every drop of their generosity until it is an empty husk like I am.

They are caring, attentive, and downright suffocating in a way that my family never was.

Even Momma, bless her heart, tried to accept me, but it got too hard to see past what Daddy filled her head with; no one went against him.

The damage he inflicted on her, in front of me and my brothers, when she deviated, if she hesitated for even a moment, was a cruelty she should have never experienced.

While my brothers and I would take the brunt of his wrath without a second thought, we couldn’t be there forever, and forcing her to fend for herself if she ever decided to leave him was never a choice I had the heart to force her to make.

Momma might’ve loved all her children, but Daddy wasn’t raised that way, and falling out of line with him was a mistake you’d die learning from if you were stupid enough to do it in the first place.

Respect was his currency, and I’d run poor when I was tired of living a lie to save my own skin.

The SUV comes to a crawling speed until we slow to a stop at the gate leading to the house.

Jameson lets out a pained sigh, rolling down his window to talk to one of Alessio’s men who is stationed outside.

Seamlessly, Jameson slips into conversation with the man as if nothing was wrong, Russian spilling past his lips like it was second nature, and I guess it is because I’d had to learn as well to keep up with his family and staff who his stepfather had insisted on having round the clock.

It just made my skin crawl being waited on hand and foot by people who didn’t know me from Adam.

Always “Mr. Reigns, this,” and “Mr. Reigns, that,” when I just wanted to be left alone and not be treated like an invalid.

They continue talking, but I tune it out until my ears involuntarily perk up with the mention of Cortland’s name. When the gates finally open, I run through as many excuses as I can to stay in the damn car, but before I can open my mouth, Jameson beats me to it.

“I don’t need to tell you what state we might find him in, but at least try not to pick a fight with Alessio regardless of what he’s done.

I’m not in the mood for your shit tonight.

Can you handle that, Levi?” Jameson says, his voice devoid of emotion.

He isn’t expecting an answer, just that I’ll obey.

I know what we might walk into, and I have no qualms about keeping my mouth shut if Alessio does.

In Jameson’s defense, it's a nice idea but the wrong people to expect to follow his rules.