Grievous (Scarlet Scars #2)(99)

Lorenzo pulls away. Fast.

I turn, seeing Sasha in the doorway, her eyes bouncing between me and Lorenzo, alarmed. Leo’s behind her, just out in the hallway.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt,” Leo says. “It got quiet, so I figured it was safe, and she said she was thirsty, and I wasn’t sure what she was allowed to drink, and well, the kitchen is this way, so...”

“It’s okay,” I tell him, so he’ll stop stammering, before motioning to Sasha. “Come here, sunshine.”

She approaches, and I kneel beside her. She eyes Lorenzo suspiciously, looking up at him, while he stares down at her like he thinks she might bite. They’re both damn nervous. It’s kind of cute.

I mean, there’s a chance one (or both) of them might freak the fuck out any second, but still... cute.

“Sasha, this is Mommy’s friend, Lorenzo. He helped me when I was looking for you, helped me find you.”

“And did surgery on Buster?” she asks quietly.

“Yeah, he’s the one who sewed up our Buster,” I say. “That was nice of him, wasn’t it?”

She nods.

“And Lorenzo, this is—”

“Your little Scarlet Letter,” he says.

“Uh, yeah, that’s one way to put it,” I say with a laugh. “You said you wanted to know what a mini-me was like, so here she is.”

Neither of them says anything right away.

They just stare at each other. Assessing.

It’s like they’re sizing one another up, getting a read on the competition, gauging whether or not they’ll be willing to share my attention. I’m not at all surprised when it’s Sasha that cracks first, but the words that fly from her lips nearly knock me on my ass.

“How did your face get all hurt?”

She points at him, right at his face, at his scar.

Lorenzo blinks at her.

Oh god.

“Sasha, baby, you know we don’t—”

“It’s fine,” Lorenzo says, cutting me off, his gaze on her. “You want to know what happened to me?”

She slowly nods before cutting her eyes at me, like she’s worried I’m going to be mad. Not him, no... she’s not worried about him. If she were, she wouldn’t have asked that. I’m the scariest one in the room, apparently.

Lorenzo hesitates, like he’s considering how to answer, or even if he still wants to answer. But eventually, he says, “I got hurt a long time ago by a very bad man.”

“What kind of bad man?” she asks.

“The kind that liked to call himself my dad.”

Her eyes widen. “My daddy is mean, too.”

“I know,” Lorenzo says. “I’m glad he never hurt you like I got hurt. I tried to make it so he couldn’t.”

She processes that, her brow furrowing, before she says, “Will your face get all better?”

He shakes his head. “It’s stuck like this.”

“Does it hurt?”

I see Lorenzo’s cheek twitch.

I think maybe he’s done entertaining questions, but he answers before I can chime in.

“Sometimes,” he admits. “The eye hurts. It doesn’t really work anymore.”

“It got broken?”

“Yes.”

I’m not sure if she understands the concept, since his eye is still there. It still blinks and moves, looking pretty normal except for the lighter coloring.

She frowns, but it only lasts for a moment before her expression brightens. She holds up her bear, as if he’s never seen it before. “Maybe you can give yourself surgery like Buster! His eye got broken, too.”

“I think that’s enough for now, sunshine,” I say, squeezing her in a hug before standing back up. “Go ahead to the kitchen and find something to drink. You can have anything but the rum.”

Leo laughs from the hallway.

She starts to leave when Lorenzo clears his throat.

“It’s nice to meet you, Sasha,” he says.

“You, too, Mommy’s friend,” she calls back as she runs out of the library.

Sasha. He called her Sasha.

He used her name.

My eyes sting. I can feel the tears welling up. There’s a lump in my throat that’s getting harder and harder to swallow down.

As soon as she’s gone, Lorenzo looks at me. “I swear to fuck, Scarlet, if you start crying right now, I’m going to throw you out of my goddamn house.”

“I’m sorry, I just—”

“Don’t apologize to me.”

“Ugh, okay. I’m not.” I try to shake it off, clearing my throat. “That was just really nice of you. I didn’t expect you to be so...”

“Nice?” he guesses. “I’m not an asshole, you know. Well, I am, but not that much of one. I was a kid once. I remember what it was like when adults were assholes. I’m not going to do that to her. Besides, she’s yours, so I didn’t really expect her to make this shit easy for me. Her mother sure as fuck doesn’t.”

No, I guess I don’t.

Pausing, I reach up, pressing my palm to his cheek again. He grimaces but doesn’t move, doesn’t pull away, although I can tell part of him wants to. “Do you, uh...?”