Chapter 11
Chew (and I can’t stress this enough) with your mouth fucking closed.
—Text from Hollis to Quincy
HOLLIS
Thetruce between us lasted all of half a day.
Thenext day, the nice person I’d had lunch with was gone.
Inhis place was a man who didn’t know the meaning of stalking, apparently. Which was hilarious, seeing as the damn man was a police officer.
Iwish I could explain why the man was following me.
Whywouldn’t he just leave me alone? He was at my job. He was bringing me lunch and checking in on me during my shift. He was outside my work when I was done, ready to escort me home. WhereverI was, he was. And he made sure I saw him.
Rightthere, all day every day, making sure I was staying out of trouble.
Butsomething dark and secretly excited deep inside me was glad that he wouldn’t leave me alone.
Thathe wasn’t giving me an inch of breathing space.
Inbetween his work calls, and my shifts, he was there. Almost always.
Itwas horrible because I felt like I had to dress up every stupid day—and I hated freakin’ dressing up. And it was secretly the best thing that’d ever happened to me.
Ifelt like a heroine in one of my romance novels, and I was grossly giddy each time I saw him waiting for me outside my apartment complex.
Buttoday was different.
Today, I was heading to my parents, and I fully expected Quincy to not remember.
Only, he did remember.
AsI walked out of my building, carrying the first load of presents, I was looking around and wondering if he was there.
WhenI didn’t see him, I felt a modicum of hurt.
Hehadn’t remembered.
Except, I hadn’t given him enough credit.
WhenI got to my car, I saw him leaning on it.
Hisgaze landed on me, his eyes taking in every inch of my body before slowly uncrossing his legs from his lean on my car.
Todayhe was wearing some Wrangler jeans that were lighter in color, and when I say they fit him like they were meant to, I mean that even the old lady pushing a shopping cart full of cans did a double take at the way his ass fit in those jeans.
SinceI’d only gotten the front view, with the blatantly in your face belt buckle, I was slightly disappointed.
Butthe way she gave me a thumbs up told me it was a good view.
Onhis top half he was wearing a faded blue jean button-down in a darker shade than his jeans, but not by much. His boots weren’t the same fancy ones as the other day, either. They were well worn in and looked like they’d just come straight from the dirt.
Thecowboy hat was also on his head again, blocking his beautiful hair.
Thebeard was a little bit more unkempt, too, and I wondered if he’d stopped doing some sort of work outside to come over and spend the day with me.
“Uhh,” I said. “What are you doing here?”
Hepulled off his hat, and his messy hair came into view.
“What do you mean?” he asked. “You and I had an agreement that I’d come.”
Isnorted. “I thought that agreement was null and void after you followed me around like a common criminal all week.”
Hislips twitched. “I was following you around because I wanted to see you, Hollis. Not because I’m a criminal.”
“Not you being a criminal. Me being the criminal,” I admitted.
“You’re not a criminal…” he paused. “At least, I don’t think you are.”
Oh, how na?ve the man was.
“Sure,” I said. “ButI don’t believe that you wanted to see me.”
Heplaced his hat back on his head.
Thenjerked his chin at the car. “You’re going to your parents’ place?”
“Yes,” I answered warily.
“Cool. CanI drive?” he jerked his hand toward his car.
“I, uh, have to go back upstairs and get the rest of the presents,” I admitted, quickly stuffing my presents into my car when I didn’t see his truck anywhere near. “ButI need to drive myself because my trunk is full of enough laundry for two weeks. I have to get it done.”
Henodded, then fell into step beside me.
“You’re not going to lock your car?” he asked.
Ishrugged. “If they want it, they’re going to break the window. At least this way, I don’t have to pay for my car window to get fixed.”
Hesighed. “You have a point.”
Thiswas downtown Dallas after all. Not the greatest part of town.
Andthe old sedan riding really slow down the length of the road up ahead was making me nervous.
Quincy, too.
Hereached back behind him, and I wondered if he had a gun back there he was about to pull out.
Thecar rolled past, and he made eye contact with the person inside.
Hestiffened, partially moving so that he was blocking me from the view of the driver.
Hestayed that way, moving so he was now behind me until the car disappeared around the corner.
“What was that?” I asked when he twisted back around and placed the palm of his hand on my lower back to get me moving again.
Iwouldn’t admit to how great it felt.
“That was a gang leader,” he grumbled.
“You know a gang leader by sight?” I wondered.
“Yeah,” he answered. “I know him by sight. I see him at the station at least once a fuckin’ month. But my brother is the leader of the gang division at DPD. A post I used to hold before I switched over to detective. So, I know more than most.”
“Ahh,” I said as we slowly let ourselves back into my building.
Hisfrown once again had me glancing at him in question.
“You shouldn’t just be walking in here,” he grumbled.
Isnorted. “There’s a reason this place’s rent is so cheap, dude.”
Hislips thinned, but he didn’t say anything.
Instead, he climbed the stairs behind me to my floor.
Iwalked into my wide-open door, and he muttered a curse under his breath.
Irolled my eyes, then walked up to the rest of the presents. But he caught my hand and shifted me gently to the side as he bent to grab all the presents with such ease it was embarrassing to all woman kind.
Wewalked out of the apartment, and this time I did lock it behind me.
Aswe got down to the bottom of the stairs, the black sedan was back.
Butthe moment it saw us, it left.
“This is bullshit,” Quincy muttered darkly.
Hewalked up to my car and said, “Tell me the address, honey.”
Mystuff was still sitting on the seat where I left it.
WhenI would’ve gotten into the car by myself, he hurried forward and opened my door for me.
Ifrowned at him.
Hewaited patiently, and I eventually got in, wondering if it was normal to be elated by a man opening my car door.
Clickingmy seatbelt into place, I gave him the address. Then asked if he needed directions.
Heshook his head. “I know everything there is to know about Dallas.”
Iacknowledged his understanding of Dallas and closed my door. Seconds later I was backing out, not asking for any more details. He stopped me, though, with one hand on the hood of my car, and the other on the door.
Ireluctantly rolled down the window.
“Okay, explain to me one more time why y’all do this in the middle of the year?” Quincy asked.
Itwas weird, I knew.
“Okay, so let me try to explain it in a way that doesn’t make it sound so weird,” I giggled. “Every last one of us was born in December. My birthday is on the twentieth. Tay’s is on the nineteenth. AndHumfrid’s is on the twenty-sixth.”
“Okay,” he nodded. “I got that part.”
“Well, my parents didn’t have much when we were growing up. My dad only worked minimum wage jobs, and there really wasn’t much extra to go around. You know?”
“Yeah,” he nodded. “That happens, yes.”
“Well, one day Humfrid asked if we could start celebrating our birthdays in the summer. Because that way she might get more presents, but she explained it to our parents as a way of saving them some money.” I explained. “AndMom and Dad ran with the idea, because truthfully, it is hard to buy both Christmas and birthday gifts all in the same month. So a few years ago, we all started to celebrate our birthdays on the same day—June twelfth. So now we all come out, Mom cooks, and we exchange our birthday gifts with each other.”
“Y’all couldn’t do them on different days?” Quincy wondered.
“I asked that once, but Mom doesn’t like cooking that much, so this way she only has to cook once,” I admitted.
Henodded. “Understandable, I guess.”
“Anyway, so that’s what we’re doing today. Mom cooks our favorite meals, we all open presents and exchange gifts, and we go home,” I said.
Except, that was kind of a fib.
SometimesI never got my favorite meal.
Okay, that was a lie. I never got my favorite meal, because my favorite meal was lasagna, and Dad hated lasagna. So more often than not—okay, never—I didn’t get anything I actually liked on this particular day.
“Okay, honey,” he murmured. “I’ll meet you there. Wait until you see my truck pull out, though. In case I get lost.”
Thatwas bullshit. I believed him when he said he knew Dallas well.
Hejust wanted to see me.
ButI’d wait. “Okay.”
Thedrive was comical.
Hearrived at my parents’ place before I did, going fast enough that he could be in front, but slow enough that I was still in his rearview mirror.
Wepulled up outside my parents’ house, the nice ass house they didn’t have when I was growing up, and parked.
Iall but dove out of the car, anxious to get hell on earth started.
Becausethe faster I started, the faster it would end.
Ialready had the car’s back door opened when I felt him move into the space behind me.
Myhands were on a present when I felt his hands on my hips, turning me in his direction.
Iturned everything but my face toward him.
Hemust’ve sensed my anxiousness, because he caught my face in his hand and turned my chin toward him, studying my expression with his all-knowing eyes.
“Are you sure you want to go?” he asked. “You look…”
“Nervous?” I teased.
Thatwas the wrong word, though.
Anxious. Unnerved. Pre-annoyed.
“Pissed.” He studied my face. “You look like you don’t want to be here.”
Iwould rather be getting a mammogram and a coloscopy at the same time in front of a sold-out CowboysStadium than going into my parents’ place.
“I don’t,” I admitted, tugging away slightly. “ButI have to.”
Whenhe let me go, I turned for the presents I’d abandoned in the back seat when he’d taken me into his arms.
Istill felt nice and cozy as he watched me.
“I’m just going to warn you,” I said as I gathered the presents up into my arms. “This is about to piss you off.”
Iknew he’d see the day for what it was. Yet, I still hoped, like I did every year, that I wouldn’t feel so left out this time.
Hefrowned as he took all but the smallest package out of my arms. “Why do you say that?”
DidI warn him?
Maybeit wasn’t going to be that bad this time.
“Just don’t freak out. I’m used to it,” I said, deciding not to explain.
WhenI explained, sometimes it tended to come out sounding worse than it actually was.
Thatwas why Keda had hated my family.
Thoughshe’d been a witness to their actions quite a few times, and sometimes they didn’t present themselves in the most flattering of light.