Am I depressed because I miss her, or am I depressed because the woman I love is the one that turned her back on me all those years ago?
It’s because I miss her.
Hell, the past is the past. I was mad about her truth, but I’m not anymore. I served six years, which is cake to Owen, who served twenty years for killing his pregnant wife. He didn’t kill her, but he acted like he did because it was the punishment he thought he deserved.
I didn’t kill Grace, but maybe if I was a better friend and not so busy chasing tail, I would have been there for her. It’s pointless to guilt myself now because what is done, is done.
I need to let go of the past in order to grab ahold of my future.
“Stop it. Now is not the time,” I say to my very hard cock, who hasn’t gotten attention in a month and a half.
It has been the longest time I have ever gone without sex or masturbating since I was sixteen. Yeah, case in point, I was a slut.
I’m not now.
Just the thought of being with anyone else besides Heather sends disgust up my spine. I only want her.
“Sorry, buddy. We are on a break,” I say, turning off the shower and stepping onto the heated tile floor. I don’t bother brushing my hair, I towel dry it, then run my fingers through it. Next, I swipe deodorant on, throw on a fresh T-shirt and jeans, boots, toss my towel in the laundry, and walk out the door.
My room smells better, that’s a plus.
As I stroll down the hall, whistling, I pass the room she stayed in and I run my fingers across the closed door, and I swear I can smell her. Her scent is light, just like the air flowing into my room, breathing life back into me and my space.
When I walk into the kitchen, it’s just the guys. The girls must be in their rooms or out doing what girls do. I don’t know, but they are never around on the days we leave. I think it’s because they say their goodbye’s the previous night and leave us to plan the day we leave.
“Think fast,” Owen says, and I barely have time to look before he is throwing a muffin at me. It hits me in the face and falls to the floor. “I told you to think fast.”
“Well, you gotta give me a minute, man. Jesus.”
“I thought you could smell the muffins,” he says.
Damn. I really couldn’t smell them. My mind was so preoccupied with Heather, that I didn’t even want muffins.
I shrug my shoulders. “I guess the muffin man is on a break.”
“Okay, muffin man, we have plans we need to catch you up on. We let you wallow, but Sebastian got a hit on his search for Ricardo and he called Zeke.”
Owen and I groan at the same time. “Why would you call him? Why do we need a lawyer?”
“He didn’t call Zeke the lawyer. He called Zeke ‘the right-hand-man of the mafia boss’ in New York City.”
My lips form an O. “Oh, that Zeke.” It’s the same man living two different lives, but when we call for different reasons, the one we need always shows. “Why? What’s going on?” I pour myself a cup of coffee, add a shit ton of cream because I don’t know how the guys drink it black. I might as well chew a damn coffee bean right out of the bag if I want to drink it straight.
“So, you are aware of fancy charity events and stuff, right?”
If words could taste like black coffee, they would be those words right there. “Yes,” I grumble, not wanting to show that I’m happy I know what they are talking about.
“Well, I started thinking about how dirty politicians are, right? So I got to snooping because I’m nosey,” Sebastian says, pausing to take a drink of his nasty green health smoothie. I don’t know why he has been so keen on ‘getting fit’ when he has more abs than a washboard. “I found out that Zeke’s boss just got invited to the Governor’s Ball here in California, along with your father, and obviously Heather’s father since he is the Governor.”
“I mean, it’s weird sure. I don’t know why a mafia boss needs to go to a charity event, but I don’t care. Rich people sling coke left and right and if they are about that then who are we to stop them?”
Sebastian smiles, shaking a finger at me. “Well, it made me dig a little deeper. Our friend, Richard? He goes to the Governor’s ball every year. Including the year you were arrested, Heaven.”
I almost drop my coffee cup, but I manage to tighten my fingers around the handle, so it doesn’t fall. “What? No, that’s impossible. Her dad wouldn’t get involved in something like this. You guys are wrong.”
Sebastian shakes his head, then nods, confusing me. “No, you’re right. I dove deeper into Tim Thomas to see if there is anything sketchy about him, but he is clean, minus a few bar fights when he was in his teens, he seems like the all around traditional American man. He seems like a good guy. He doesn’t have any scandals, he makes donations to charity every month, he sends flowers to Grace’s grave every Sunday. He takes his wife out on a date every Wednesday. He seems oblivious. I think this run for Governor was him being convinced by your father. I think he is being set up because a guy this straight and narrow randomly going into politics blind, it can’t be a good thing.”
“It doesn’t make sense,” I say, trying to process the information Sebastian told me. I pour the coffee out in the sink, then turn on the faucet to wash the brown liquid away. Then the way they are talking about the Governor’s Ball clicks and I toss my head back on my shoulders when the realization hits. “You want to go to the Ball. That’s why you’re asking me.”