Page 83 of Pen Me

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

I blinked, the lump swelling in my throat again. “What?”

“What the fuck are you on about? What fucking call, who called?”

“The bartender. She said the guy that took your eye was sitting in a certain spot, but… afterward, she mouthed, ‘wrong guy.’”

“So, you got the table or–?”

“No. I sat at a certain spot when I’d go see her at the bar. She said– He’s sitting in your seat, but it was a different guy in that seat. It was Keefe Kilbride.”

“Some bartending broad just accidentally suggests that you off an Irish hitman?” Henny stared at me until I caught on.

“You think that she meant for me to–”

“What's her name?” he whispered, as the steps sounded in the basement.

I glanced behind me before whispering back, “Jessica.”

I made sure when Sammy mounted the steps, I was shrugging. I didn’t want her chasing ghosts after I was gone. Whether it was a set up or not.

“The point is, I only did it to honor you. I never meant for any of this to happen. You know I fuckin’ love you. I love my club.”

Henny slowly nodded and tapped my arm.

“Everything will be fine, just… Let me think on this for a few hours,” he mumbled, before heading outside.

I heard his lighter flick and saw a cloud through the screen door.

It felt like half my worries had melted away, being able to talk with Henny. I smiled and sat back in the chair watching him for a while.

I finally knew what I had to do to make all of this right, I just hoped he was here for Sammy when I did it.

Chapter Forty-One

The Calm Before the Storm

Sammy

Henny left before lunch and returned with a duffle bag full of clothes just before three.

“You’re staying here for a while?”

He raised his brows, slung the bag onto a kitchen chair and sighed.

“Octavia was given four to six weeks.”

“Was she? Did she thank them?” I couldn’t help myself; I had an opinion about doctors and their timelines.

Henny stared at me like he wasn’t sure if he was going to laugh or cuss me out.

“Doctors don’t give people anything when it comes to terminal illness. They have their mortal estimates. Nothing more, nothing less. They aren’t God, it says in the bible only He knows the time and hour.”

His jaw relaxed and he nodded, “I’ve heard that one before, or something similar.”

“Can I ask a favor, even though it isn’t my business?”

He stopped pulling the zipper and glanced up at me, before shrugging and pulling it the rest of the way open, “Shoot.”

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