Page 329 of Shadowman

“You’re right, I don’t.”

“So… Fuck ’em.” He shrugged, grinning.

I smiled up at him. “You’re so cute when you get all American.”

He hummed and leaned over my face to brush our lips. “And you’re sexy as fuck when you pop off.” He beamed while I laughed. “Seriously, though… That was the best coming out showdown I’ve ever witnessed. Alittle too Raph, and I’m here for it.”

“Love that line,” I snickered, arching up to kiss him, just once. A quick soft one to ease any leftover burden from the suckiness of people. And it was all gone, just like that. “You’re lucky your parents are dead.”

Trevel’s head tipped back, and he cackled. It just looked and sounded so damn good, the next thing I knew, I was kissing himmore, gripping his jaw, pulling his mouth so that I could eat him alive.

“You’re so hot, baby. I love you,” he whimpered, pressing me up against the wall.

Then I spun him and pressedhimup against the wall.

I love it. I loveus…Constantly fighting for control and bending the fuck over.

The elevator doors opened while we were mauling each other, and this super annoying conservative Wall Street guy, Richard something, stood at the entrance, staring at us with his sour puss on.

Pulling back just enough to smirk at him, I crooned, “You might wanna get used to it. We’re moving in on twenty-five.” Trevel chuckled, and I grabbed his chin. “That’s right. It’s about to get all kinds of gay up in here.”

I pecked him on the lips while Wall Street bitch boy scowled.

Extremely satisfying.

Anyway, that was six weeks ago.And now we’re both officially residents of Manhattan again!

Don’t get me wrong, I loved our little place in Astoria. It was small—we liked to call itquaint—but it had a lot of heart, and tons of amazing restaurants nearby. That apartment was good to us, especially after having just returned from Alabaster Isle; after being locked up in a tomb with no fresh air or sunlight.

Or miscellaneous bodega cats to play with whenever we want! It’s a travesty.

Even after the prison fell, things certainly werenoteasy. The war, and the confusion of what came next… It was a lot.

When Trevel and I decided to bounce; come back to the city and get a place together, we had an uphill battle. I had to go from the doom and gloom of years in Alabaster Pen to jumping back into the hustle and bustle of New York City without missing a beat. We had some help, but it still took work.

Eventually, we found a place that would rent to us without any in-depth background checks, I got a job as a trainer at our gym, and Trevel went back to accumulating odd jobs as if he were secretly three people.

Seriously, though… It’s like he’s trying to win some kind of award.

At the end of the day, as long as he’s happy, I’m happy. And he likes variety in his work. It’s safe to say neither of us are nine-to-fivers—we wouldn’t know what to do with ourselves.

For now, Trevel teaches a weekly yoga class at our gym—I know, right? The fighter and the crunchy granola hippie, it’s pretty cute. He’s also a freelance massage therapist, a dog-walker, he works in a flower shop, and he manages a few Airbnb rentals for people. He could’ve stopped there, but because he’s Trevel, he also picked up a few shifts at the Starbucks around the corner. He said he wanted to be a barista because Alice was one. I think it’s sweet. And kinda sad, but that’s okay.

He’s working through his trauma, and I’d say he’s doing a fantastic job.

Of course, all of these things are just ways to make money. Our real passion, together as a couple, is writing. Trevel has been working diligently on a poetry book for the last six months or so, and he’s almost ready to publish.

As for me, I never saw myself as a writer until Trevel came along and read my journal. Once we were back in the real world, I decided to just start writing and see where it took me. Well, as it happens, it gave me an immense sense of joy. It still does. MyBook of Secretswas just the beginning.

Last year, I wrote and published a novel based on my life calledThe Shadow Man, and I’m planning to turn my journal into a memoir. Keeping everything independent works for me, because I’m really not doing this for money. It’s therapeutic, the same way writing poetry is for Trevel.

I’m not saying my issues are anywhere near his. In fact, they’re light years apart. But I still carry a lot of the weight of Alabaster Penitentiary. Trevel says I might have PTSD, but I’m not sure.Maybe I should see a shrink…

If you know anyone. Wink.

I struggled with leaving the Isle at first. That place was all I knew for so long. But it was time to start a new chapter.

Separating from Luthor and Ren, Dash and Felix, was tough. After being basically attached, to losing them, getting them back, only to turn around and leave… It was an emotional seesaw for sure. But it wasn’t just us leaving. Weallhad bigger plans.