Page 96 of The Finish Line
“Tell me this is not happening.” I clench my fists as Sean stumbles his way toward our mark.
“I’m afraid it fucking is, brother.”
“I’m going to kill him,” I growl as Sean gets into position and sets the bait, feet away from Amelia, his eyes trained on her, waiting, a signature grin in place.
“Motherfucker,” I growl. “Text him again.”
“It’s too late.” Just as Dom says it, Amelia spots Sean and on instinct beams back at him, just as Elijah catches onto the exchange. I curse as Amelia’s face blanches, and she burst into tears.
Dom goes to stand, and I grip his arm and yank him back in his seat. He turns to me, his posture drawing tight, his eyes darkening, livid. “He just fucking elbowed her in the stomach. Why isn’t anyone helping her or saying anything?”
Sean ambles to the side as if the ground is moving beneath him. He’s already starting to gather attention, odd looks from some of the front row, and it’s only a matter of time before he draws the attention of house security.
“Sadly, it’s human nature, brother, and you have to keep a lid on that temper and wait for the right time to strike, or else you’re just another dumb fucking thug looking to get caught,”
Sean remains idle as I fight to keep from aiding him myself, just as his gamble pays off and the entirety of the arena jumps to their feet. In the ring, Lance has managed to get his opponent on the ropes and is doling out punishment with a series of blows, raining hell with his blurring fists. With all eyes on the ring, Sean leaps into action, stumbling straight toward them before he fakes a trip, his head landing in Elijah’s crotch. Elijah grips Sean by the arms in an attempt to push him away; just as Sean lifts and head butts him so hard, Elijah’s mouth goes slack as he sinks down in his chair. With Elijah half-conscious, Sean manages his recovery by artfully fumbling over his feet and faceplanting in Amelia’s cleavage. Her eyes widen with shock as he nuzzles her a split second before he stands, apologizes, and saunters off. Amelia smiles in the direction Sean fled just as Elijah slowly comes to before searching for the freight train that just hit him.
Dom shakes in hysterical laughter next to me, and I lose sight of Sean, who slips into the standing crowd. It’s the roar of laughter that spills from Dom’s lips, a rare sound, that has me turning to face my brother, and at his reaction, my anger fades, and I’m unable to help my smile.
“Fuck, that was priceless.” Dom’s chuckle begins to slow as he claps a hand on my shoulder. “That’s our boy,” he proclaims proudly, his smile cracking his face wide. “That shit alone was worth the money we paid for these seats.” Both our pockets rumble with an incoming text, and we check them at the same time to see a text from Sean. It’s a real-time picture of us, Dom laughing, me smiling at him.
“Slick motherfucker,” Dom muses, sending a reply as I gaze down at the picture to get an idea of where it was shot. Looking in the same direction, I scan the crowd, spotting Sean sitting a few rows back from Elijah and Amelia, a pride-filled smile on his face. Grinning, I lift my chin to Sean as Elijah and Amelia walk past him toward the exit, and he lifts his back before standing to follow.
“Let’s do this,” I say to Dom as he gets to his feet.
Dom stops me with a hand on my arm. “This one is his.”
Half an hour later, after trick-or-treating and disposing of our Michael masks and plastic gloves, we were half a million richer and had a new list of marks to target. Thanks to Sean and Dom, Elijah became a thumb-sucker, and Amelia was set free to make better life choices. By the time the sun rose the next morning, Sean had managed to forget about his broken heart. But I didn’t. And by the time Dom got back from college, we had new rules in place for birds looking to nest. A specific mark meant to protect them. A mark Cecelia now bears.
Dicing some onion, I glance back at the pile of shit I bought for the night and wince about the fact that it might be overkill. I was assured Cecelia would love it. Itching to take another drink of gin, I forgo it as the sunlight begins to fade and glance at the time on my cell. The café closed an hour ago. She should be home. I shoot a text to the new birds on watch.
What’s her twenty?
Café.
I swallow back the sting she may be avoiding me and resume my chopping.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Cecelia
Stretching my neck to relieve it of some of the tension, I sit on one of the sofas in my café gazing into the fire while my phone charges.
As soon as it powers up, I see a missed text from Christy. A picture of her boys in the hand-sewn Halloween costumes she worked on for months. I heart the image and shoot a return text.
Awesome. Love you.
The bubbles start and stop, and I know why. I haven’t called or FaceTimed her since Tobias showed up, and I know she’s angry with me. When I got to Virginia, I called her daily, and being the friend she is, she talked me through setting up in a new life, my heart freshly re-broken.
The fucking usual.
Her texts have become shorter, more abrupt as of late because mine have become non-existent. She’s put up with years of this shit from me and doesn’t deserve it. If anything, she deserves a better friend, and I’ve abused our friendship to the point she should be seriously pissed at me. The truth is, I’m tired of lying.
I’ve been doing it for too long, and it’s shortchanged our relationship.
She’s my constant, my family, and she deserves better, but it’s all part of the cost of loving Tobias. If I tell her I’m with him again, I know I won’t have her support. And worse, if he breaks my heart all over again, I don’t know if I can handle the “I told you so.” So, for now, I’m hiding instead of lying.
This morning, I was ready to give in to what I feel for him, but soon after we were interrupted, I was struck by a gnawing fear that doing so could land me right back to a starting point I’ve been pushed back to one too many times before.