Page 56 of Castling the Rook (Checkmate 3)

“I visited your mom, too.” That stops me halfway between pulling the soup from the microwave. Dropping the container on a hand towel so Jay doesn’t burn himself, I grab a spoon and move back. “She’s so sweet, and she doesn’t judge me for pinging off the walls.”

“Here.” I set his food on the small table. “My mom doesn’t judge anyone.”

“Never?”

“Nope. Never ever. She would’ve liked your visit.”

Groaning, he sits forward and stares at the steaming soup like it’s a mathematical equation. “I sat in her room, sick to my stomach, and jonesing for a hit. She didn’t know me from Adam, but she told me I was her Riley’s friend, so I could sit with her.”

“She’s the best.” I grab the spoon again and pry his fingers open. They’re stiff, and littered in ink. Just like his brother, he’s covered from ears to toes, but these dudes who try to look like they’re part of some one-percenter club of death are nothing but boys, brothers, with guns and a badge.

Jay’s eyes are bruised from lack of sleep, his cheeks hollowed from lack of eating. Abel Hayes has broken a young man, and it hurts me to see the damage he’s done to a young body.

I know why Jay won’t go home to his brother; because it hurtsmeto see him this way. No way will he let his brother see.

“Did Mom talk today? Did she tell you how she’s doing?”

Leaning forward, he bends over the soup and draws in a shaky breath. “Not much. Your mommy had a wild life, Cruz, because I came in her window, and she didn’t batt a damn lash. You sure you don’t have six hundred siblings out there? Because it takes a wild woman to let a thug crawl through her window and not scream the place down.”

“No, and don’t talk about my mom like that, asshole.”

Finally, he smiles and dips his spoon into the soup. “She watched me climb in, then she patted the edge of her bed and asked if I was your friend.”

My stomach unclenches just a little when he brings the spoon to his lips. He’s going to be okay, and when he’s brave enough to face his brother again, they’ll get him out. Jay needs more help than a bowl of soup and a couch to sleep on. “What did you say?”

“I told her fuck no, because you’re ugly as dog shit and an asshole to boot. But I told her that I knew you.”

“She said good enough?”

He chuckles. “She said good enough. She offered me a glass of water and a hug.” His eyes meet mine. “She fuckin’ hugged me, man. She didn’t know me, but she hugged me and told me I’d feel better soon.”

“I love my mom.” Sitting on the filthy couch beside him, I nudge him toward the soup again. “She’s a good egg.”

“It’s sad she’s in that place rather than home. She deserves home, notahome.”

I shrug and watch him bring another spoonful to his lips. “I gotta work, and she needs more care than I can give right now. I go over and hang with her most days when I’m not on night shift, and Alex knows her situation, so he’s cool about overtime and shit.”

“Maybe I’m gonna go visit her again tomorrow. She said I could.”

“I bet she’d like that.” Standing, I move toward the bread box in my kitchen and take out a slice. Grabbing the butter on the way past, I slather it on to add a little fat to Jay’s bones. “When are you gonna call your people?”

Shrugging, he watches the plate I set down beside his soup, but he doesn’t pick it up. “I’m talking to some of my people. Ace knows I’m alive. But I’ve gotta get better before I go back to Kane. It’ll break his damn heart if he knows I got this bad.” His eyes meet mine. “I shouldn’t have let it get so bad.”

“So your plan is to detox in secret and pretend this never happened?”

“Yep.” He brings the spoon to his lips. “It’s not so bad. I’m not addicted or anything, Abel gave us a bad batch, so I’ve just gotta work it out of my system, then it’s all over.”

Said every addict in the history of addicts.

“Then you’re gonna ask to be pulled from Infernos?”

“It’s not that simple. I’ve got shit to take care of first, because this goes further than Hayes, further than me, Kane, or Cap. But once I get it squared away, I might quit altogether. I don’t much like my job anymore. It sucks ass, it’s dangerous, and comes with shitty hours. And it seems I have a proclivity for banned substances and women that aren’t too particular about who they spend their time with.” His shoulders droop. “I gotta get out and marry a girl like your mom.”

I laugh. “You ask my mom to marry you just for the hugs, I’ll cut your nuts off.”

“You can call me daddy if you want.” A gritty chuckle works its way up his throat. Too many cigarettes. Too many drugs. Too many hard nights on the job. “If I marry your mommy, I’ll be your step-daddy, and I don’t want none of that backtalk, you hear?”

If he wasn’t so unwell, I’d beat his ass for being a dick, but I can’t bring myself to do it. His jokes are barely more than a whisper, and his hands shake so much, the soup won’t stay on his spoon. “I won’t call you shit, but we can be friends, so tomorrow when Mom asks, you can say yep, Riley’s my pal.”

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