Just Let Me Love You (Judge Me Not #3)(14)

After all, Kay deserves nothing less than my best.

I spend the morning in the garage, getting the old Indian bike ready to go. It’s in good working order, but it’s not fully road-ready. I work fast, as my goal is to have this thing out of here before my mother and her husband get home.

Truth is, I have no burning desire to be part of the welcoming committee. Let Will have the honor of bringing Mom and Greg up to speed. Little bro can figure out how best to inform them that Kay and I are staying in Las Vegas…and that we plan to stay here for a while.

Though I’m sure Will won’t be divulging exactly why Kay and I came to town.

Yeah, I’d place a Vegas bet on that shit.

Whatever, I think, sighing. Bottom line is that while all that is going down, I’ll be with Kay. We’re taking the bike out together. Shortly after we woke early this morning, I tossed out the idea…and Kay liked it.

“Where should we go?” she called out over her shoulder as she made her way to the bathroom adjoined to our bedroom.

After I retrieved my boxers, I walked to the doorway. Kay was standing in front of the basin, brushing her teeth. She looked cute as all get-out, hair all mussed and still sleepy-eyed.

It took me a minute to respond, but finally as I leaned on the doorframe, I said, “Anywhere you want to go, baby girl. Your wish is my command.”

“You have to pick,” she said, turning to face me after she rinsed out her mouth. “You know Las Vegas better than I do.”

Yes, I sure do, I thought.

I’m still thinking the same thing too—here in the garage, two hours later. However, the Las Vegas I know oh-so-well sure isn’t something I’d ever show Kay. Sure, she knows my past—most of it, anyway—but there’s no need to revisit the pit stops I traveled along the way. Sadly, my Las Vegas tour would be filled with dark alleys, darker apartments, and the darkest of nights. All shaded in tones of addiction, sorrow, and despair.

Would I ever want to show beautiful, gentle Kay where I used to score coke, coke that made my head feel like it was exploding?

No way.

Or maybe I could spin her by the old apartment and point out where Will and I spent many a night alone while Mom was off gambling? Hell, I could take her to the convenience store around the corner and point out the aisle where I once stole a can of Spam. Don’t laugh. That can of mystery meat provided a makeshift holiday dinner that year when Mom forgot to come home on Christmas Eve.

Would I subject Kay to that memory of mine? Short answer: No.

In fact, I wish I could block out some of those memories myself. I don’t like recalling how Will and I ate the Spam I stole out of the can that year.

But I do remember, I remember it all, including how Will cried the whole time, saying he wanted his mother.

Slumping down next to the bike, the distant memory leaves me feeling choked up.

Fuck. That Christmas had to be one of the worst.

Following our crappy Spam dinner, Will and I went to sleep. We were trying to forget it was a even a holiday, but Christmas Day, of course, arrived.

We couldn’t stop it, we couldn’t stop anything back then. We were caught up in a downward spiral.

When Will woke up, he asked me where all our presents were.

I could not bring myself to tell him there were none. So, instead, I ran around the apartment, gathering up the shit we already owned—Will’s toothpaste, my shaving cream, Will’s tree-house sketch, my sketch pad, some other random shit. I wrapped everything up in colorful comic pages I ripped from an old newspaper.

Will knew none of the stuff was new, but he played along. In fact, that kid and I opened those gifts like they were brand-spanking-new treasures.

And it wasn’t so bad, not really. It was okay until Will starting crying, saying he wanted his mother.

But Mom wasn’t there, like so many other days.

She came home a day later. Until then, though, it was only me. And unfortunately I was never enough.

How could I—a boy myself at the time—fill a void left by two parents, one dead, and one who may as well have been.

Jesus, this life I’ve lived.

Kay thinks I can figure it all out, find myself some peace. She believes somewhere inside of me I will know where I need to start in order to get back to this side of right. But when you’re facing not just past demons, but present ones as well, let’s just say things get tricky.

Thank God at least Will seems better. Having Cassie over last night, our little talk, it’s all keeping my brother steady. I mean, I think it is. In any case, so far there have been no drugs, no meltdowns, and no seeking vigilante justice.

Still, I’m shaky on the gun. I only hope the firearm Will gave to me is the same one Kyle sold him. I have no choice, though, but to accept that it was.

Kay arrives a few minutes later, just as I’m tinkering with a few final adjustments on the motorcycle. She looks radiant and ready for the day in dark jeans, a sexy red V-neck tee, and black low-heel ankle boots.

I stand and hand her a helmet. “You sure look ready to hit the road,” I say.

Her hair is in a ponytail and she tucks it up on her head as she slides on the helmet.

“Yep, I sure am,” she replies. “I’m ready for you to take me wherever you want to go.”

“Oh, that leaves a lot of possibilities,” I joke, winking at her.

I feel better now that Kay is with me.