That had been his plan—the plan her father destroyed when his mother walked in at the wrong time to pick up her last check.
But how would their lives have unfolded if she’d arrived any other time?
As they brushed their teeth together at the trough sink, he imagined that life. Them in a house together, maybe with a couple of kids his mother would have been happy to take care off.
His mother had wanted to break the ugly legacy of her Fairgood family name. And Nanan Cherise had preached to him mightily about the “sin” of marrying somebody who didn’t speak French. Hades might not have been born a Cajun or have a French last name, but she expected him to carry on the tradition of speaking French in the home.
Persy could have handled that. Her French had mightily improved over the last three years. She understood everything he and Ellie said now. And he’d even come upstairs to find her listening to Afro-French trap music as she put together her crochet orders.
If not for the blood debt, she would have made for the perfect wife. Maybe they’d be living in a real house right now with her belly full of their first kid and French music playing in the background of their happy ever af—
He stopped himself right there. This was why he didn’t let himself do intimate shit with her beyond the nightly bath. Why he refused to touch her, even though they slept in the same bed.
He finished his brushing after a few swipes, took a swig of mouthwash, and spit it out.
“You finished?” he asked Persy.
She didn’t answer, just spit out the rest of her toothpaste and stowed her travel toothbrush in her now empty tote, as if to say, I’m finished if you want me to be.
Outside the communal bathroom, that woman of Waylon’s was still carrying on. But her pleas had racked down to desperate sobbing.
Again, he glanced at Persy to make sure none of this was rubbing off on her. Again, no reaction.
Inside the room he’d purchased for the night, they stripped naked and lay down in bed together. Like a married couple with a routine. One who never fucked.
Still, Hades knew he wouldn’t have to worry about nightmares. He only ever had them when he left Persy at home and went out on the road by himself.
Still, he had issues getting comfortable in the bed. The mattress was rock hard and even narrower than usual. Like, a lot of guys who lifted weights, he couldn’t lay on his side without something going numb. But lying on his back meant he was pushing Persy off the bed, even with her on her side.
“I can sleep on the floor,” she offered, the third time his shoulder jabbed into her back.
“No, just…” It was best to avoid intimacy, but he wasn’t going to let her sleep on the floor—or tell her even that short distance was too far. Forget nightmares, he needed her there right next him just to fall asleep these days.
Instead of talking, he hauled her onto his body, splaying her across his chest.
Touching her like this, having her skin touching his—well, luckily it was dark. She couldn’t see the sudden tent in the thin blanket.
Surely, by then you’ll be tired of me.
How wrong she’d been three years ago. If anything, he was more obsessed with her by the day.
Merde, how was he going to sleep without her when the five years was up and he had no choice but to let her go?
“There’s a new Marvel movie out. Another Ant-Man,” he said, talking out loud to get away from the confusing shit going on in his head. “I was thinking we could go see it sometime next week. Enjoy somebody else’s air conditioning.
“Mmm, Swedish Fish, popcorn, and lots and lots of corporate air conditioning. Yes, please!”
He could hear the happy smile in her voice, and that made him happy. Happy enough to add, “It’s at the Waterfront 16, so you want to do dinner at that one place you liked so much that one time?”
Not exactly specific, but she said, “Louise’s? Sure. That was honestly the best gator I’ve ever had. And I don’t believe in magic, but she’s spelling the food, right? I mean, she’s gotta be.”
“Persy, listen carefully to these words coming out of my mouth,” he said with a dead serious tone. “That woman is a witch if I ever done tasted it. If I tried to take my Nanan Cherise to that place, she would’ve taken one bite of that gator jambalaya and come back with a priest to holy water the demon out of Louise’s cooking spoon. Want me to make a reservation for next Thursday?”
Persy was laughing so hard against his chest, she had to catch her breath to answer. “Sure, I’m not doing anything on Thursday.”
Now it was his turn to laugh. “Then it’s a date.”
A date….
