Swallowing, I curse my emotions as more remorse surfaces on how I’ve wronged him. Of how I left him in that cockroach-infested fucking house with an unworthy parent, to fend for himself, to man up before his time. Just once, I want the sacrifice to be worth it. I want him to feel like the sacrifice is worth it.
Our horse takes the lead in the last quarter mile, and I can feel the hairs on my arms start to rise.
“Brothers first,” I whisper.
“Always brothers,” he replies softly, a second before our horse crosses the finish line.
Shock and adrenaline shoot throughout my body as I exhale a steady breath, and Dom speaks up. “What did we win?”
It takes several seconds for the panic to give way to exhilaration. Liberation gives a bounce to every step I take as I make my way back inside, forgoing my waiting date at the bar to collect my winnings. “Exodus.”
“And look at you now, King, just a regular Joe doing everyday shit,” I mumble, dumping two extension cords into my cart before pushing it along the aisle. “No bad guys to hunt down, not a suit in sight to negotiate billion-dollar deals with.”
While I might have schemed my way into becoming a millionaire and smooth-talked my way out of death on more than one occasion, earning the naked trust of my former enemy’s daughter might be the deed to outdo all others.
Our progression is slow all right because day by day, she’s fucking killing me gradually.
Twenty-one days she’s held out on me, on letting me in.
Twenty-one days she’s denied me entrance fully back into her heart.
Twenty-one days I’ve fucked my fist.
Twenty-one days of aching when I hold her while she sleeps in neck-to-ankle flannel pajamas.
Twenty-one fucking days.
Being the tactical man I am, I decided it’s time to come up with a plan.
An average Joe’s plan. Innocent enough.
Wine, dinner, seduction, connection.
Daily, she’s managed to curb me at every turn. But somehow, someway, I will succeed in wrestling her back into some sort of submission.
Resisting the urge to punch the happy-go-lucky fucker who passes me, I smack a double stack of toilet paper into my cart.
All we need is the right setting to share one perfect night, and for that, I’m pulling out my entire arsenal.
It’s all wrong, this space she so easily puts between us…we need something, something I can’t pinpoint to get us back to where we were. When my phone rumbles in my pocket, I scramble to answer, hoping it is some sort of sign, anything to help me get past this crossroads.
“Talk to me,” I wheeze out, glaring at another happy husband who takes one look at my face and turns to walk in the opposite direction.
Sean chuckles in greeting. “Just checking in, man. How’s it going?”
“How’s it going?” I can hear the contempt in my reply. “How’s. It. Going?” I grit out. “Well, at the moment, I’m just crossing off the honey-do the Mrs. left for me and picking up toilet paper. And tonight, after I’ve scooped up enough dog shit, she might just reward me with a kiss goodnight after another day of pointless fucking living.”
Collective laughter echoes from the other end of the line, and I press the phone to my ear, speaking through clenched teeth. “You have me on speaker?”
“Sorry, man, couldn’t resist.”
“Fuck you all,” I snap, as peals of laughter ring out at my expense.
“Don’t hang up. We’re here for you, man,” Russell belts out through a dying chuckle. “And don’t get the cheap shit, chicks hate that.”