-Fact of life
Lennox
“Where are you going today?” Paxton asked as I drove him to his car the next morning.
“Working at Truman Smith from two to eight. Then back home I guess, why?” I asked, keeping my eyes on the road in front of us.
I was upset.
Paxton knew I was upset.
He was trying to broach the subject carefully so he wouldn’t get Ludacris-Lennox, as he liked to call me when I was in one of ‘those’ moods.
And I was trying not to talk about it, as per our usual.
There was just something about gay men as your best friends, though.
Melissa knew when I was pissed and didn’t want to talk. She’d let me be.
Paxton, however, never let me be. He pecked and pecked and pecked until I told him exactly what was bothering me, and usually that wasn’t in a very nice way.
“Alright,” Paxton asked after another few minutes of me ignoring him. “What’s your fucking problem now?”
We’d spoken after Corrinne had been hauled back to jail, and I’d told him exactly what had transpired from the moment I’d left him in the bar to the moment I’d seen Corrinne with her stupid bottle of spray paint.
He’d, of course, known about Corrinne, but he hadn’t seen her in action until yesterday.
Needless to say, he wasn’t impressed with her just like I wasn’t.
“Nothing’s wrong, why would you ask?” I asked him distractedly.
Cool as a cucumber. See, I could do this! Outwardly, I was calm and collected.
My mind, however, was in turmoil.
“Tell me.”
I ignored him.
“Tell me.”
I kept ignoring him.
“Tell me. Tell me. Tell me!” Paxton parroted over and over again until I finally broke.
“I told him I loved him!” I roared.
Paxton, not expecting that answer, blinked in surprise.
“You did what?” He asked in awe.
“I told him I fucking loved him, okay?” I sighed. “And he said it back. But this morning he was gone. No note. Won’t answer his cell. Nothing. It’s been over five hours since I sent the message, and he’s not said a word to me. I don’t like feeling like this!”
Paxton snorted. “That’s what love is, baby girl. Sacrifice.”
I scrunched up my nose in disgust.
“I feel vulnerable. I don’t know what came over me, me telling him that. I’m out of my fucking mind,” I groaned, placing both hands on the side of my head and pressing inward slightly to alleviate the pounding that was going on behind my skull.
It didn’t work.
Paxton was a good advice giver.
He could get me thinking straight in a jiffy, had I wanted him to butt his big behind into my business. Which I can assure you, I did not.
“Lennie, honey,” Paxton said, pulling the car into the bar parking lot and parking beside my car. “He said it back. That’s a give and take relationship. Share your feelings with him. Tell him what scares you about having a relationship. He already knows your worst, now give him your best.”
I looked down at my fingers. “I’m not sure I have a ‘best.’”
He laughed. “You do. Or you wouldn’t be who you are. Now get out of my car, go buy some cookies, and maybe drop by the police station. See if you can find him. Say hi. Try not to say ‘fucking’ when you tell him you love him.”
I gave him a dry look.
“How’d you know I said that?” I asked suspiciously.
He gave me a look that said, ‘Are you kidding me?’ And I laughed.
“Okay, okay. Thanks for the ride,” I said as I got out, slamming the door and heading to my car.
I took his advice, too.
I went to the store, got him cookies, and then headed straight to the police station.
I was all the way to the front door when what I was wearing finally made me doubt my plan of action.
I looked down, seeing my nearly transparent white wife beater, jeans that I’d cut into shorts, and a pair of black and hot pink Nike’s that caught everyone’s attention.
My hot pink racer back sports bra stuck out like a sore thumb underneath my t-shirt, and I was seriously contemplating turning around when a wolf whistle from behind me had me turning to see Michael standing four steps below.
“Don’t you know that the guys at the station will eat you alive?” Michael asked teasingly.
I smiled down at him.
“Yeah, I guess I didn’t think this quite through, but I brought cookies. And if I take them home with me to go change, I’ll likely not come back. Then I’ll just eat them. Then these shorts won’t fit,” I babbled.
That was a lie.
I couldn’t eat them.
At least not all of them.
The insulin I took gave me a little wiggle room, but not that much.
I talked when I was nervous, which was why I’d just admitted one of my greatest sins. Gluttony.
I was a habitual eater, and often times I had to move up to my fat jeans because I ate too much, and worked out too little.
His smile appeared, and I was struck speechless with how good looking he was.
But I admit, I did enjoy seeing him without the sleeves. The tattoos on his arms were intriguing to say the least.
“Got it. You want to come around the side? I’ll take you straight to the training room,” he said, gesturing to the side of the building with a nod of his head.
I tipped my head to the side, then nodded, carefully going back down the stairs.
I was a klutz when I was nervous, and the man currently standing at my side made me very nervous.
But in a good way.
I could see why Nikki was in love with him.
He was beautiful.
“Why do they call you Saint?” I asked by way of conversation.
I’d heard him being called that last night by the guys as they were arresting Corrinne.
Michael grimaced.
“Saint Michael. They say I’m a Saint,” he admitted. “It started the first day I went through the academy. Continued throughout, and by the time I was finished, I was dubbed that forever and always. Doesn’t matter how many times I try to get them to stop calling me that. They do it anyway.”