She tells me about her sons and her friends. She tells me about the home she grew up in and inherited from her parents. She tells me about her Hispanic heritage. She continues talking until she finishes cleaning the bathroom and changing the sheets. I just listen the entire time. I pretend I am her, in her shoes. Anywhere but here.
But when she is finally finished and has to leave, she can’t hide the pity in her eyes. She looks back at her cart then to me again. She reaches down into her pocket and walks towards me.
“I don’t know how you ended up here, and I’m sorry I can’t be brave. But maybe this will help you find some peace in all of this,” she says as she places something in my hand. It’s a necklace with a pendant.
“It’s a Saint Jude medal. I don’t know if you pray, but I hope maybe this will help you as it has helped me.” She pats her hand on mine a few times before she goes back to her cart, pushes it out the doorway, and closes the door quietly behind her. Once again, I’m plunged back into a reality that is bleak and dark. But I don’t need a saint to pray to in order to find peace. I just need Jesse.
Cason and Jade haven’t spoken to me since I told them about the deal I made with Satan, A.K.A. my father. They didn’t speak as I passed them on the way out the door to come to this meeting. They were both sitting in the living room looking grim. Cason was openly drinking. That’s how I know things are getting rough for him. Cason loves Mom and generally respects her rules, including the one about no drinking in her house, and he always toes the line when she’s home. I get it—they’re worried. But they don’t understand I’m worried too. Worried about what the world would be like without Fallon in it. That’s not something I can let happen or ever experience again.
My father and I ride in silence as he drives us to the meeting. I have nothing to say; I’m just here to play the game and get my girl back. Well, at least make sure she’s safe. Because I know the fight won’t end when she’s back in my arms; it will only begin. The difference is we’ll be fighting blood, but at least it will be together. I don’t plan on letting her go ever again.
We’re meeting on neutral ground—some fancy restaurant that my dad frequents. We pull into the valet parking, keeping up appearances. Playing the game of who has the most. James is in a suit, and I’ve got a dress shirt and slacks on. I guess I better get used to the feel of these clothes. If this goes as planned, I’ll be spending more time in outfits like this. I pull at the collar of my shirt before going through the doors held open for us. I gladly walk through them because they lead to the one person who can help Fallon.
“Don’t let them see you sweat,” my father mumbles. “Vic can smell weakness from a mile away. It’s his game.”
We enter the restaurant and are greeted by an overly snooty host. His posh attitude makes me cringe. This is not my kind of place.
“Name?” he asks.
“Callaway. Have our guests arrived yet?” My father asks. His haughty tone matches that of the host. I’m sure he thinks it makes him sound important, but I just think it makes him sound like a dick.
The host reviews the clipboard in his hand. “Yes, they arrived a few moments ago. Follow me.”
We follow him across the restaurant, passing all the people paying for an overly expensive meal just for fucking bragging rights. He escorts us to the farthest corner where a small, private dining area is blocked off from any inquisitive eyes in the main dining area. When we enter, Victor and Jax are already sitting at the only table in the room. The table is big enough to fit at least ten people but will only host four today. My father would call it luxury. To me, it’s just excessive.
Jax eyes me warily as we enter the room. He looks awkward in his button-down with his tattoos peeking out through his collar, but it’s no more awkward than I feel. We are both being forced to enter the world our fathers have created, but neither one of us fit. How ironic that the men groomed us to fit, yet we both turned out as far from what they wanted as possible . . . At least Jax’s morals match theirs.
“Victor, Jax, good to see you,” James says with his schmoozing voice well in place. He shakes Victors hand, and I take my place at the table, effectively ignoring Victor when he reaches out to me. I don’t do pleasantries. Something about pretending that I give a shit about these people when my girl’s life is on the line doesn’t sit well with me. I’m doing my best not to pin the man against the wall as it is. He can deal with the rebuff.
I nod at Jax who surprisingly returns it without any malice. He doesn’t want to be here any more than I do—that much is obvious by the annoyed side-eye he gives his father. I’m sure his dad forced him to keep up the happy father and son image even though we all know that Jax and Victor never really see eye to eye. Even when we were friends, Jax hated his father. And his father was always griping about how Jax needed to clean up his act. Funny how a man can judge his son’s character when his own is so fucking shitty.
“Jesse, how is school going? Turning out better than Jax’s school experience, I hope,” Victor says. The rumor is that Jax
