Chapter 22 #3
“You heard the lady.” I sigh in defeat, taking hold of Andi’s hand once again and making a beeline for the sub-zero walk-in that Royce added last year.
As expected, the food Murphy so kindly gifted us is placed by the door.
I yank it open, grunting from the effort it takes to slide the boxes in.
“Murphy Bader owns a butcher shop in Sandy Springs, the next town over. He takes monthly donations from his customers and puts them towards the cost of a cow. He doesn’t charge us any labor to butcher it, but Royce frequently slips his wife a check as a way to show his thanks.
So far, beef is the only meat we offer, but maybe one day we’ll work our way up to chicken and pork as well. ”
“I had no idea nonperishables were even accepted at food pantries, so I was shocked when Rita mentioned it over dinner,” Andi comments, busying herself by placing the labeled packages in their respective spots.
“They typically aren’t, but as you know by now, nothing about The Village is typical.
” I flash her a quick smile, rubbing my hands together to generate some warmth.
“Obviously, anyone who’s homeless or living in a shelter wouldn’t have any use for this stuff, but families going through a rough patch or living paycheck-to-paycheck are grateful for the option.
” She hums in agreement but doesn’t add her thoughts to the mix.
The next few minutes are spent in silence as we empty the remaining boxes.
Since Andi divulged her rocky background prior to Veritas, she’s been somewhat withdrawn.
My palms start to sweat when I realize she deserves the same transparency from me.
I’d rather cover my dick in honey and spin it around like a helicopter in front of a fresh-from-hibernation grizzly bear before recounting my pathetic need for validation.
And yet I find myself doing just that, if only to ease Andi’s mind and make her see she isn’t alone when it comes to parents choosing any and everything over their own flesh and blood.
“My mom…” I start, my voice cracking instantly.
Shit. It’s been so long since I’ve said that name aloud.
“She was beautiful. I remember looking through her old yearbooks as a kid and thinking she was definitely a part of the cool crowd.
Sadly, her downfall began when she was only seventeen, but it took several years for it to become apparent.
She made the great mistake of falling in love with the wrong guy.
He craved control, and wielding her body however he pleased was his favorite pastime.
“At first, he just wanted to share her with a few buddies, chalking it up to curiosity. It wasn’t uncommon to experiment in the seventies, especially when it came to drugs and sex.
But that quickly shifted to him loaning her out like a prized toy he bragged about, and she caved to any demand he made because she loved him.
At some point along the way, she got pregnant with my older brother, Elijah.
Of course, she had no idea who his father was, and I barely have a memory of him before he left home at fifteen.
I came along later, when she thought her fertility was a thing of the past. I tried to get her help too many times to count, but she couldn’t be reasoned with.
Sadly, her delusional definition of love is what eventually killed her. ”
For several long seconds, I avoid looking at Andi, fearful of what I might find staring back at me.
When I finally retrieve my balls from their hiding place and muster up some courage, her face is wiped of all emotion.
Even if someone held a gun to my head and forced me to take a guess, I still wouldn’t have the slightest clue what she’s thinking.
She’s skilled at hiding her thoughts when she wants to, and the why behind that is nauseating.
“I used to wonder how people like that could exist. How anyone so vile and evil can fly under the radar for so long, wreaking havoc on innocents. But atrocious things happen every day, and most of us are none the wiser. Monsters far scarier than anything make-believe are a seamless part of our society, blending in so expertly it’s impossible to pick them apart from the rest of us.
People like Veritas and your mom’s abuser should be case studies for anyone considering a career path in behavioral analysis. ”
Without conscious thought, I step closer to Andi, wrapping my hand around the back of her neck.
Her squeak of surprise doesn’t deter me, and I place a soft kiss on the top of her head.
The decadent scent of jasmine and vanilla washes over me, and I make a mental note to figure out what shampoo she’s using so I can buy it in bulk.
“You’re an immaculate human being, Sunshine, and anyone who’s ever thrown away your favor is a fucking fool.” I stare straight into her two-toned eyes, every word I speak drenched in sincerity.
“Are you sick?” The back of her hand touches my forehead, a pretend frown gracing her gorgeous face as she tries her damnedest to keep up the ruse.
“I think you might be running a fever, because words like immaculate definitely fall into the crazy-talk category, which is a sure sign of something serious. Like one of those particularly unpleasant plagues, or dysentery perhaps.” Her lips press together to avoid cracking a smile, a feat that becomes increasingly difficult as I blink several dozen times in the span of a few seconds.
“Christ, woman. I assure you, I’m having no issues with my bowels.
If you’re going to kill me off with a fake illness, at least make it heroic.
” I twine my fingers through the soft strands of her hair, tightening my hold just enough to command her attention.
“Or, and this is a wild theory, you could simply take a compliment and say thank you.” When her lips part, I tug again, cutting off the rebuttal she’s gearing up to make.
“As difficult as it may be, we have to accept that other people’s views of us might not align with the way we see ourselves.
But that doesn’t make it any less true. You need to trust that my opinion is factual to me, so when I say things to you that go against your own feelings, there’s no reason to question it. ”
Andi stares at me so intensely, I’m convinced she’s dissecting my fucking soul. It’s a searing sort of appraisal that causes my head to reel. Seven seconds have never felt so long, my lungs starved of oxygen until she finally whispers the sweetest response.
“Thank you.” With great reluctance, I put some space between us, my satisfied grin causing her cheeks to flush pink.
“Come on, let’s get the hell out of this ice box before we both freeze to death. My nipples are harder than Dayton’s micro-peen when he talks about football.” Andi’s laugh is music to my ears, the carefree sound squeezing at my heartstrings.
“I knew there was something suspicious about three grown men living together. My apologies for not realizing sooner that the two of you are actually an item,” she goads, but the serious tone of her voice makes me question if she truly believes that, and so begins my backpedaling.
“No. No, no, no.” I stop short, planting my hands on my hips in a sad show of defense.
“In no way–playfully, sexually, or accidentally–have our swords ever crossed. Don’t get me wrong, I have no issue with anyone who partakes in said activity, but my lightsaber malfunctions when someone else whips theirs out all willy-nilly. ”
“Wow, I’ve never witnessed someone talking in circles, but there’s a first time for everything.
And maybe you shouldn’t describe your friend’s genitals if you want people to think your relationship is strictly platonic.
It gives the wrong impression.” Andi winces dramatically, her eyes dancing with mischief.
“Careful.” I stalk forward, crowding her personal space like a caveman lost to his baser instincts.
“I can think of plenty of ways to demonstrate my preferences, so maybe this pretty mouth shouldn’t write checks it can’t cash.
” I trace the seam of her lips, my featherlight touch causing them to part on a quiet gasp.
“All done?” Rita calls out, her interruptions quickly becoming a thorn in my side.
“Yep. Anything else we can do?” Andi replies, maneuvering herself so she’s facing Rita directly.
I take a deep breath and will my half-hard dick to calm the hell down, then proceed to give myself a mental shake.
Andi’s gorgeous, but throwing myself at a woman who’s been an unwilling participant in her own relationship for the past six years is a level of desperation I have no desire to stoop to.
Her plate is overflowing as it is, and when I inserted myself in her life, it was with the intention of being helpful, not adding to the problems she already has.
By the time I’ve gotten myself together, they’re discussing inexpensive ways that Rita has found to keep The Pantry stocked.
“Donations keep us afloat more than anything, but we’ve all dipped into our personal accounts when things have gotten bad.
I’ve even resorted to signing up for email subscription lists with big-name companies so they’ll send us free samples,” Rita confesses, her arm linked with Andi’s as they meander through the aisles.