Page 80 of The Crowned Garza
He tsks. “Of all the Nelson brood, why’d she have to go for the worst one?”
That’s the opinion he would have of me, too, wouldn’t he?
Creed Nelson is a typical wild and reckless young adult spoiled by wealth. We’re privy to exactly what degree because Red Cage handles all of the Nelson family’s affairs. And Creed Nelson’s worst crime to date? Non-aggravated arson.
Put that next to me and the kid’s a fucking angel.
Torin continues, “Sometimes I question if we made a mistake making life too easy for her.”
I down another glass of water. “That would be true if she actually leaned into those privileges instead of going out of her way to make things difficult for herself.”
“Hm. True. She’s a bit hardheaded, isn’t she?”
“Abit?” I almost laugh but hold it back, being careful not to fall into whatever trap he’s laying here.
This is the kind of conversation that’s usually had among the brothers, not with me. My involvement in discussions regarding Tillie Garza generally surrounds her safety or whatever shit she got herself into. Not offering opinions on her personal life.
“I know you’ve got a lot on your plate, but I don’t like her with this kid,” Torin goes on. “He’s trouble. Keep an eye on her for me, yeah? “
Been keepingtooclose an eye on her. That’s the problem.
He gets to his feet and claps me on the shoulder. “Be sure to make a restroom stop on your way out. Your bladder’s gotta be bustin’ from all that water you’ve been chugging.”
Well, shit.
He knows something.
Of fucking course he does.
Question is, why am I still in one piece?
~
MIA REGINETTASLEEPSlike the dead. Once she’s out, she’s out.
Her riot of long brown curls spills out of her askew silken sleep cap. Her ivory nightgown rides up her thighs, and my cock swells at the thought of her touching herself before falling asleep.
Even asleep, she should sense me here, sitting on her bed, creeping on her. But she never does. For the better part of a year now, I’ve been coming here at random and inhabiting the room down the hall. She doesn’t even know it.
When I need my fix, I come get it. Just to see her, smell her, watch herbreathe.
Tillie Garza is a drug stronger than heroin for me. She’s been my drug of choice for a long time. Before she was even legal.
That admission might make most uncomfortable, but I’ve never pretended to be moral. I’m comfortable with my sins.
Tillie’s my addiction, sure, but she’s also a distraction.
As much as it slices me up from the inside out to watch her share herself with others, it’s the way it has to be. Her youthful freedom and happiness—my torment.
My greatest need, greatest desire, is to be with this treasure of a woman, have her in my arms, spend the rest of my life committing myself to her over and over again.
But we can’t always get what we want.
My phone lights up on my thigh. Quietly, I straighten from the bed and slip out of the room.
The familiar number on the screen is not saved on purpose. She doesn’t call often. Not just because she’s been holding a grudge against me for leaving when Papa needed me, but because she’s an extremely busy, perpetually preoccupied woman, whose passions precede her only child.
“Ciao,Mamma,” I answer as I head down the hall to the guestroom.
