Thick Love (Thin Love, #2)(105)

“No, Aly Cat,” he said through an exhale that seemed forced. “No. There are some battles you have to let your children fight on their own.” He looked down at the baby nestled against Keira’s chest. “Even if it scares the hell out of you.”





The house reminded me of something MTV would rent for Real World. It was sick rich, with ridiculous things like two ballrooms and a media room with a screen nearly the same width of the wall that lifted and lowered beneath the floor with the push of a button. The house itself was similar to the one Dad owned for years before he made the final move to the lake house—Greek Revival with large, secured wrought iron fencing around the entire acre lot and massive columns running along the front porch. There were two balconies off the back of the house and a pool with slick, blue tile along the bottom.

This was no home, never had been. From the looks of it as I sat on the curb, working up the nerve to actually get out of my car this time, not much had changed since the last time I had stepped foot on the property, well over a year ago.

Today I didn’t hide beneath the oak limbs and wisteria vines. Today I’d be right out in the open.

Mr. Warren was walking around the yard with his gardener when I pulled up to the sidewalk, pointing to the weirdly shaped bushes that lined the walkway. Some were shaped to look like lions, others were trying to mimic the round bodies of elephants and, by the glare the man gave to the gardener, he wasn’t happy with any of them.

I could have waited until his mood was better, but I was pretty sure that day would never come. Even when I was with Emily, before the naked texts, Warren had been harsh, very snobbish and always an *; he had never liked me, period. But, I wasn’t doing this for him. He likely wouldn’t hear me anyway. I was doing this for me, for Aly. To silence that voice for good so we could start realizing our potential, together.

I got out of my car and slipped through the open gate, catching the gardener’s eye as Warren continued to berate him. The worker knew who I was. He’d been working in the backyard the day I’d snuck out of Emily’s bedroom at six a.m. I had no idea if he’d ever ratted me out, didn’t much matter now, but as I approached and I caught his gaze, a small grin moved across his mouth.

“Comprende jackass? No frayed leaves, no bare limbs sticking out on the bushes. For Christ’s sake, as much as I pay you, you’d think you could manage that!”

Yep. Still an *, that hadn’t changed. I cleared my throat and Warren whipped around to glare at whoever had the audacity to interrupt him. When he recognized me a split second later, I knew instantly this had been a mistake.

If possible, that already red face got brighter. “Arturo,” he started, his voice hinting at a barely contained enraged tone, “Call the police.”

“Wait,” I said, holding up my hands, palms out, and Arturo didn’t move. “Please, just let me say what I need to say and you will never hear from me again.”

Warren turned around fully, breathing through his nose so quickly that his nostrils flared. “What exactly do you think you could say to me? Huh? There isn’t a f*cking thing I want to hear from you.”

He looked older up close, and even though it had only been a week since the festival, I could have sworn he’d aged even since then. “Mr. Warren, I just wanted to say…”

“What, you little shit?” He pushed me then, full of fire and venom and I let him, I took each tap on my chest because I needed this final punishment. I would let him tell me he hated me, that he wished I’d died that day on the lake. After all, that’s what I had prayed for out in that water. I was ready to hear all that from him.

“I…I’m sorry.” The words came out faster than I could help and when they did, that angry expression on the man’s face fell completely. I dug Emily’s necklace from my pocket and offered it to him, but Warren only stared at the chain dangling from my fingers. He didn’t push me again. Instead, the man stepped back, retreated quickly up the stairs and into that ridiculous mansion. “Shit,” I mumbled running my hands over my face.

“Leave, chico, before that pendejo comes back.” Arturo moved his chin toward the gate and I sighed, realizing that my small apology would have to do.

“Thanks, man,” I told him, meaning I appreciate his kindness, but he only shrugged in return, nodded again and I turned, heading for the gate. I almost made it, came to within three feet and then I heard the slam of that front door and Arturo screaming something loud, a Spanish oath I knew didn’t mean anything good.

“Se?or Warren, no! No!” Arturo’s voice elevated and then he grunted as he wrestled with his employer.

One glance over my shoulder and I recognized the glint of metal from the nine millimeter, the one the man had used to threaten me with before. I ran for the gate, making it to the large oak tree behind the sidewalk before the first shot rang out.

“Don’t run, you little shit!” Warren’s voice was manic, crazed and I leaned against the tree praying that some sense would come back to him. “Face me like a man!”

There was the gravel on the drive way crunching in the struggle of grunts I heard from Warren and his Spanish-cursing gardener and then, another shot sounded.

“Loco pendejo!”

“Please, Mr. Warren,” I said, inching around the side of the tree to watch him. “I know you hate me. I know I deserve it, but please, let me say what I have to. Man to man, let me face you.”