Law Man (Dream Man #3)(87)

“Mitch!” I yelled. “This is not going to work.”

“It’s been workin’ for a week,” he pointed out.

“That’s because I’ve been living in a dream world,” I returned and his brows shot together.

“What the f**k?” he whispered.

“This isn’t the real world, Mitch,” I informed him.

“It is, Mara,” he informed me.

“It isn’t going to work!” I cried, getting desperate.

His eyes moved over my face and he studied me a moment before he noted softly, “I see, you’ve wrapped yourself in your cocoon and you’re not lettin’ go.”

“No,” I totally lied. “I just know it isn’t going to work.”

“How can you know that when you haven’t let go long enough to try and make it work for longer than a f**kin’ week?”

“I already told you how. People like you don’t spend time with people like me!” I fired back.

“Yeah, Mara, and I already explained this shit to you. I don’t care that your cousin is an assclown, your Mom and aunt are nightmares and don’t mind lettin’ everyone know it and you’ve got a juvie record.” Mitch returned and my body turned to stone.

Ohmigod.

Ohmigod.

“What?” I whispered.

I vaguely watched Mitch’s angry, frustrated features turn alert and his arms tightened around me.

“Mara –” he started.

“You know about my juvenile file?” I was still whispering.

Mitch’s arms got even tighter as his face got more alert.

Then he answered quietly, “I got a friend who’s got a friend who did him a favor, unsealed your record and I know you and your cousin Bill used to be partners in crime.”

My stomach plunged and I tried to pull out of his arms but they got even tighter.

Mitch kept talking. “Mara, the operative words in that are ‘used to be’. You’ve been clean for fourteen years.”

“You had someone unseal my record?” Yes. I was still whispering.

“Yeah, I did. You were so closed off, in your own world, for two years after that guy left; you gave me no in, nothin’, not one thing, sealed up tight. I wanted to know what your gig was so I looked into you. Great credit. No debt. Decent savings. Some investments, all safe, no risk. No parking tickets. No traffic violations. Only two jobs and three apartments in thirteen years. But when you were a kid, you got hauled in for public intoxication four times before you were sixteen, once for possession of marijuana and once for drunk and disorderly. Kid shit that all kids do except you were with an assclown who was older than you but wasn’t smart enough to keep you safe and not get you caught.”

He said a lot of words and not a single one registered on me.

“You had someone unseal my record?” I repeated.

His arms gave me a slight shake. “Yeah, Mara, I did. I did it a while ago, baby, and when I say a while ago, I mean before I even fixed your washer and I’m tellin’ you,” he leaned even closer to me, “I don’t care.”

This time, my hearing was selective.

“I was young,” I whispered.

“I know that.”

“Home life wasn’t good,” I continued to whisper and Mitch’s face changed again. Gone were the hints of angry and frustrated, now he was just alert. Hyper-alert.

“How not good?” he asked softly.

Again I didn’t hear him.

“I was young. Bill was young. We were close then.”

“Mara –”

I turned my head away and closed my eyes, whispering, “You looked into me.”

It was then I felt my heart beating and it was doing this hard.

He knew about Bill. He’d seen Bill in his element and that was not good. He’d met my Mom and Aunt Lulamae and he knew about them and that was not good either.

All of that was bad.

But this was worse.

I was already a Two Point Five but him knowing about my juvie record, me being stupid, me doing stupid things, me doing more stupid things because I was stupid enough to do them with Bill yanked me down to a Two. Him ever knowing about my home life would put me around a One. Maybe a Point Seven Five. No one wanted to be with a Point Seven Five. No one. Except maybe other Point Seven Fives or lower and I’d already had a lifetime of being around those and I wasn’t going back to that.

I’d worked hard to get away from that. I’d worked hard to put it behind me. I’d worked hard to have a savings. A decent apartment. Nice furniture. Nice clothes. Good friends.

I’d worked hard.

“Mara,” he called.

“Let me go,” I whispered and pushed feebly at his chest.

His arms got tight and he muttered, “Shit, Jesus, Mara, sweetheart, look at me.”

Then it hit me. How angry Mitch got when he walked into Bill’s house. How furious he was with Bill. How he’d lost it.

And at the same time this hit me, it hit me that if Mitch could find this out, Child Protective Services could too.

My head snapped around and my eyes opened. “I’m not like him. Not like what you saw. I’m not like Bill. I left that behind. I left that at home.”

“Jesus, Mara,” Mitch said quietly, watching me closely.