Misfit(159)

Classic Cash. Everything had to be on his terms.

Shaking his head, Stretch laughed, amused by the irony.

Cash walked to the cabinet across the room and grabbed another bottle of bourbon. “Don’t leave until you tell me about the new motherfucker in Fee’s life.”

Just like that, the moment fled.

Stretch didn’t mind. Discussing Fee had been the reason for the visit. You sure about that? Ignoring that question, he returned to the sofa. “She’s dating Noah.” Saying the words left a bad taste in his mouth. He was sure he’d feel that way about any motherfucker.

“What the fuck do you mean? Noah. That prick from the club?”

“Yes. Outlaw wants me to find out about him. Apparently, he’s already made her cry.”

“That motherfucker made her cry?”

“Outlaw wasn’t too happy either.”

“He sent you to scope out the bar.”

“I didn’t tell him I knew Noah. I was so fucking angry, I would’ve blown my cover immediately. He would’ve guessed I had some type of relationship with her.”

Scrubbing a hand over his jaw, Cash sat, opened the new bottle and drank. “What do you plan on doing?”

What could he do? He’d have to couch the truth in lies to let Outlaw know he’d already met Noah. Otherwise, he’d have to tell him who he’d been with that night. Or he could surveil Fee as best he could and at a distance. In all fairness, Noah seemed pretty decent.

“I’m going to find out what I can and then report to Outlaw.”

“Then we’ll decide if he lives or dies. If he makes her cry again, he dies.”

Sounded like a plan to Stretch, so he nodded and proceeded to map out a plan.





Fee sat on the second floor hallway bench, at Christopher’s house, staring at the family photos hanging on the walls. Scattered toys littered the floor. Down the hall, music wafted from the opened door of Diesel’s room. The lemony scent reminded Fee of how fresh and clean her mother’s house had always smelled, though Patricia had favored cinnamon.

Swallowing, Fee peeked at a photo of her mother again, this one centered amongst pictures of Patricia’s kids and grandchildren—including the six she hadn’t met.

Every now and then, bursts of laughter from the Mother’s Day celebration Fee had planned reached her over Diesel’s music, and added to her grief. She missed her mom so very much. In the days and weeks after Patricia’s death, she’d turned her grief inward, wanting to help Zoann, who’d been pregnant with Ryan at the time. Not only had Zoann lost their mother, but she and Val had separated. Her sister had been all alone. She’d even given birth to Ryan, on her own, at her house.

Val had been God knows where, and Fee had been getting beat up by her boyfriend. When Zoann hung up on her, after announcing she’d delivered her son, Fee had been shocked into action. She’d wiped off her nose, went over her excuses for why her face was so bruised, and hurried to the hospital.

One look at Ryan and she’d fallen in love. She and Zoann had cried together. Fee had never known why her big sister cried. Perhaps, she’d been overwhelmed by the birth and the emotions of finally meeting her son. Maybe, like Fee, she’d been thinking of their mother, wishing Patricia was there.

It might’ve been a combination of things. Fee didn’t know and had never asked.

Once Zoann recovered, she’d become both older sister and mother figure to Fee, despite only four years separating them. Nia had been closer in age to Fee, but Nia preferred the company of their other two sisters. In their household, it always seemed to be an ‘us’ and a ‘them’. Just like Daphne had talked about with the women in the club. With her sisters, the dividing line had been their big brother. Those for Christopher—Fee and Zoann—and those against him—Nia, Avery and Bev. Even when anger had blinded her and Zoann to the essence of Christopher, Fee had never stopped loving him.

Somehow, their mother had played referee and found a way to appease all her girls. Before Meggie, everyone thought Christopher’s feelings were expendable.

Fee. Zoann. Momma. Everyone. In Fee’s defense, her brother always seemed as if he had everything together and needed no one. In reality, he’d closed himself off to people, not wanting to be hurt.

Sometimes, Fee wanted to do the same. Then, she wouldn’t feel so lost and alone. So heartbroken at all her many losses and betrayals.

Diesel’s music stopped and the door swung open. Fee swiped at an escaping tear and straightened, plastering a bright smile on her face as the boy headed toward her.

His brows snapped together. “Fee?”