Page 27 of The Other Side of Green

Sunlight filtered in through the navy drapes and I took a minute to glance around the room I’d been given.

The drapes were nice. Thick velvet, totally unnecessary in the Southern heat, but they blocked the majority of the sun, which was a blessing I supposed. Tastefully furnished with gray painted furniture and white walls, it was a long way from the home in which my mother had endured her marriage.

Pushing myself up against the mattress I considered it all.

Today Luca and I would come to blows. I knew it.

He’d told me not to come back. It really didn’t matter if he no longer had any hold on me—that stupid hoodie that I’d fixated in my brain as evidence seemed irrelevant now. Lyra had it.

Which brought me to the next part of the day.

Lyra.

Her words last night had been like whiplash. What I’d always known rationally in my head, pitted against what I knew in my gut.

Lyra would never think we were wrong.

She’d fought me in Boston, pulling me from the bastard asshole I’d allowed myself to become, and sending me back on the path to being me again.

Now I stood a man between.

Between the man with the deals and the lies, and the one who could love Lyra.

It burned inside of me, the man I wanted to be.

So first on today’s to-do list was talk the fuck Lyra round.

But it was only six a.m., so maybe I’d start with a coffee. I wasn’t going to get far on two hours fractured sleep.

So today:

Assbeating - could go either way.

Get Lyra to stop talking stupid - could go either way.

Grabbing my cell, I fired off a quick text.

Me: I thought about what you said, and I know you’re lying. Be prepared to talk.

I stared at the ceiling before refocusing on my cell and typing out another swift message, to Evan this time.

Me: What’s happening?

It worried me we hadn’t seen anything of Jensen or Miriam Collins.

You didn’t break deals with the Collins family. They broke you.

I rubbed at my face, scratching against the stubble. Okay, maybe today would start with a shower, then coffee, swiftly followed by an ass-beating and getting Lyra back.

Yep, that was the plan.

Swinging my legs, I placed them on the thick carpet. This place really was nice. Maybe I needed to stop being such an asshole and appreciate what Lufette had brought into my mom’s life.

Or maybe I could just hate him for the hell of it.

I grinned and pulled yesterday’s jeans off the floor. Yeah. Maybe that one.

Mom and Lufette were in the kitchen sipping from mugs as they leaned against the counter and watched a small television running the news.