Until You (The Redemption, #1)(72)

“I think we should do it. You and me.”

“What do you mean we should do it?”

“Just what it sounds like. Let’s start it.”

“We said we’d do it when we retired.”

“If this whole ordeal proved one thing to me, it’s that you never know what happens next. You never know how much time you have. Why wait? I mean, let’s face it, technically I am retired.”

“But . . .”

“Take your medical retirement, Crew. Let’s do it. Give me something to look forward to. A piece of the old mixed with some of the new. We could both use the change of scenery.”

“Justin. Man.” His suggestion throws me. All the times he used to tell me I was full of shit. That catering and pandering to pretentious celebrities, politicians, or moguls’ spoiled heirs was beneath me. Beneath us. And yet now? Now he’s asking me to do it. Asking me to give him the lifeline he needs.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” he says quietly, almost as if he’s as embarrassed by it as I am. “You’re fighting the same goddamn battle in your head that I am. The jerking awake at night. The jumping at loud sounds. The wondering if it was all fucking worth it. The department shrink telling me that it just takes time, when I feel like it’s more along the lines of a life sentence. Yeah, I’m dealing with all the same shit too, partner.”

“I didn’t know.”

“Of course you didn’t because you were too scared to call me. To talk to me. And I get that too, but it’s me, man. I’m still the same surly fucker I was before. I haven’t changed. Well . . . that’s a lie, but you know what I mean.” He chuckles, and I’m in awe with how easily he’s handling all this when I’m still struggling with it.

It’s because he doesn’t have a choice.

“You and me, Crew. But not because you pity me. And fuck you, if you do. Do it because you need something more. Just like I want to do it because I refuse to be strapped to this chair and give up everything I used to be. I need more.”

“You’re serious.”

“As a fucking heart attack.”

“Wow. Um . . . I need to—”

“Look. Don’t answer me. Think about it. That’s all I ask.”

“I will.”

“And enjoy Tenny.”

“Wait. What?” How does he know about Tenny?

His laugh reverberates through the connection. “What can I say? The girls spill all your secrets when they text me. And since you haven’t said shit because you’re afraid you’re going to get razzed, I know it must be serious.”

“Jesus,” I mutter but secretly smile that while I was an asshole friend to him, my girls weren’t. At least I know where I’ve failed, they’ve been better than me.

“Don’t worry, though. The razzing is still coming. And, brother?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t wait so fucking long to call me next time, you asshole.”

I chuckle. “I won’t.”

“Prove it.”

He hangs up, his laugh the last thing I hear. I lie back and stare at the ceiling as I try to process Justin’s words. His offer.

“Take your medical retirement, Crew. Let’s do it. Give me something to look forward to. A piece of the old mixed with some of the new.

You and me, Crew. But not because you pity me. And fuck you, if you do. Do it because you need something more. Just like I want to do it because I refuse to be stuck to this chair and give up everything I used to be. I need more.”

“I need more too.”

What is it that I need more of?

Am I ready for a step like this?

Can I—can we—really do this?

How the fuck does this figure in with my new metric of happiness?





CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN


Tennyson




I gave myself one day.

One day of reprieve where I told myself I could fully enjoy the moment and be present.

One day to help the girls celebrate their twelfth birthday without letting Kaleo—and the paralyzing worry and anxiety he brings with him—ruin the day.

One day to just be Crew and Tenny, the dad and his girlfriend celebrating the girls’ birthday instead of damaged Crew and paranoid Tenny, fearful of the danger her past may bring to them.

It hasn’t been easy. I’ve been trying so hard to distance myself, bit by bit, interaction by interaction, to save them from any and all hurt being associated with me may cause.

But I admit it. I got swept up in the girls’ enthusiasm for their birthday and the sheer joy of helping do something special for two girls who truly deserve it . . . that I made a deal with myself: allow myself one day of reprieve so that I don’t let the girls down, and selfishly so that I can just be.

Because they make it so easy to just be when it comes to them. Crew and Addy and Paige all make me feel like I belong here, like I fit in seamlessly with them—that fighting their pull is just that—a fight. A constant battle to remind myself why I’m pulling away. Because they mean more to me than I ever could have imagined they would when the girls showed up on my doorstep with Hani that first night.

One day.

That’s all I’m giving myself. Easy to think and harder to do when Crew is walking toward me with that grin on his lips and mischief firing in his eyes.