Page 298 of Satan's Spawn
I can’t look away from Rebecca, and a sharp sting hits my chest when she smiles at me from across the yard.
When Rebecca goes back to bouncing up and down with Hendrix, I take another lengthy pull, holding the smoke in my lungs. “Take care of her for me, yeah?” I blow out a breath. “She puts on a brave face, but I know Rebecca’s gonna need someone to look out for her. Keep her safe when I can’t.”
Saint rests a hand on my shoulder. “Consider it done, brother. On my fucking life.”
I shift, getting uncomfortable with the burn rising in my throat. For the first time since letting go of Isaiah Thatcher, I feel fucking helpless.
At the mercy of fate.
Karma.
Fucking kismet.
I hate it. But not as bad as I do for Rebecca…because she’s relying on me to do the right thing.
“Make sure she focuses on school, don’t let her get too preoccupied with thoughts of me and shit,” I say quietly, still watching her.
Saint nods, stepping back to observe the girls with me.
I draw another lung full of smoke. “Keep her busy on the weekends, too. So it doesn’t give her the time to hurt.” I pause, examining the cigarette. “Keep that light of hers intact.”
“We’re family, brother. And Rebecca’s become my sister just as much as Theory is.”
This settles my nerves a bit, because nobody has ever come before his younger sister. Not even me.
So knowing Saint’s got her in the same category as Theory will bring me the smallest sense of peace in a place where I’ll find none.
“It means a lot to hear you say that, Lavell.”
“And it means a lot to know you trust me to do this for you.”
I’d trust Saint with so much more than Rebecca. Shit, I’d trust him with my life. With my dad’s.
I know beyond a shadow of a fucking doubt Saint would’ve stepped up to look out for Rebecca even if I didn’t ask. It’s who he is, aside from his “unholy” alter ego.
“I got one more favor to ask…but it’s a big one.”
“Can’t be bigger than my cock.”
I don’t know about that.
Yanking him closer, I make sure Rebecca isn’t stumbling into earshot before I begin.
Archer’s there now, keeping her busy with a lesson on how to moonwalk, which reminds me that she’ll also have him to keep her going.
Good Guy Archer—who had every reason to hate me but still came through in the clutch when I needed him. Which means there’s no question he’ll do a fuck ton more for Rebecca.
As I start shooting off the mess of things I need Saint to do when I’m inside, he leans closer, taking on every single one with confident nods. Storing every gritty detail in his brain through one-liners and cracked jokes. Resting all the wishes for my future with Rebecca in the hands he’s rubbing back and forth.
No questions get asked, no requests denied.
And for the first time since accepting my fate, I have actual hope for what’s to come when I return.
50
CRAYTON
“Where did I go wrong?” My father buries his face in his hands as I sit across from him on the couch. “I tried so hard to show you your worth, teach you kindness, rid you of your pain.” He taps his foot anxiously against the floor. “How the hell did we get here?”
