All That Matters (34 page)

“There's nothing to forgive, Meg. You had your choice in the matter taken from you. You were a victim, of Carlos and of Josh. And of me. The things that I said were terrible.” He stroked his hand over her leg. “I'm sorry.”

Meg knew that the words didn't come easy to him. She knew that they were true from the look on his face. “I forgive you.”

“I love you. I might not always get things right, but I do love you.” He squeezed down on her knee. “All that matters is that we're together right now. We'll figure the rest out and get your boys back. I promise.”

“I don't think there's a way for that to happen. The court ruled. I could appeal, but they've got a list of reasons why they're not just going to hand custody over to me. Even if we get a lawyer and appeal, there's no guarantee.”

“Monroe thinks the social worker bitch had something to do with Roxie getting custody. He's looking into it. We'll figure it out. I promise, we'll figure it out and we'll get them back.”

“You can't promise that, Train. I know that you'll try, but you can't promise it and that's okay.”

“We're going to get them back, end of story.”

<#<#<#<#<

Meg had to stop herself from calling out to Leo that dinner was ready. Habits were hard to break; she was so used to him being there. It had been just over a week since Train had found her half dead on the couch. She had an attorney now, Jennifer Clark, a woman fresh out of law school, who had been the only one willing to take on the appeal. Meg didn't have high hopes for it, but if there was even the slightest chance it would get the boys back, she'd do it. She'd do anything.

“Smells good,” Train observed, he walked over to the stove and lifted the lid on the pot. “I love chili.”

“I know you do. Go ahead and sit, I'll get everything together.” There wasn't much to do around the house during the day. So she'd been cooking and teaching herself to bake with a little help from Caroline. A few days ago, Meg had found herself online looking into how to refinish wood furniture. Pretty soon, she was going to be completely stir crazy.

“No, you sit. You look tired.”

“I'm not tired, I sat around all day. You worked, so you sit. There's something that I wanted to talk to you about, anyway.”

“What's wrong? Did the lawyer call? Does she need another check?” Train had been footing the bill for the lawyer and everything else. Meg still wasn't completely comfortable with the situation, but she was learning to not freak out about it.

“No. I haven't heard from her. I've been thinking, maybe we could start staying at your place. Being here all day, it's starting to drive me fucking crazy.” It was something that had come to her during an afternoon binging cooking shows for new recipe ideas. She'd expected that Train would be okay with the idea, but he frowned.

“I'm sorry. We can't do that, Meg. I put it up for sale, got an offer. It'll close next month, I was surprised there was interest that quickly.”

“Wait, you did what?” Meg realized that there were times when Train didn't think to tell her things, but this was was pretty big for even him to forget.

“I was going to tell you, but the offer came in the day after the listing, figured I'd surprise you. I know that it's hard being here, but this is home.” Train walked over to the cabinets and took out bowls for the chili. “Besides, the boys will want their rooms when they come back.” Train was so hopeful that they'd get the boys back. Meg loved his optimism, he was rarely optimistic, so she kept her conviction that they wouldn't to herself. If she was lucky, they might get visitation, but even that was a long shot.

“I'm really surprised you found a buyer, the house across the street has been on the market for like two years.” Meg set out silverware and napkins.

“My place is in better shape, I guess. Good news is, the buyer wants a quick sale. It'll give us more money for the lawyer, maybe even enough to get a better quality of lawyer.”

“Is that why you put the house on the market? So that we'd have more money? Doesn't the house technically belong to Nightshade Construction?” Meg frowned.

“The company gave it to me, free and clear, after the bar blew up. It's mine to do what I want with,” Train replied.

“You love that house,” Meg protested. He'd told her all of the things that he'd done to improve it, all the other things that he still had planned.

“No. I love you. A house is a house, and if we're being honest, I like this one better than the other one. So, we sell that one and have more money for a lawyer. No arguments.”

“You had all sorts of plans for the house. You talked about building a bigger deck and painting the house when the weather broke.”

“I'll paint this house,” he replied. “I'm thinking it'll look good in blue, put some bushes out front for landscaping. Maybe we can even put a tree house in the back, that old oak would handle one. Leo will like it. Hell, I'll like it. I always wanted a tree house.”

“Let's not get ahead of ourselves,” Meg suggested. The branches in the tree were pretty high up, so she decided to change the subject. “There's cheese in the fridge if you want it on your chili.”

“Of course I do. Did you make cornbread?”

“You only asked for the cornbread about a dozen times.” Meg let the subject of the tree house and house sale drop for the moment. “How was work?”

“It was good. Busy. We're hiring on a few more guys full time.” Train carried the pot of chili over to the table. “Sit down, I'll get the rest. We need beer.”

“There's Corona. I even cut up some limes.” Meg watched him roll his eyes. “That doesn't mean that you've got to use them. I like it.” He mumbled something about it being a chick thing but still, he added one of the lime slices to hers as he got them out. “Thank you.”

“You're welcome. So, there's a party on Friday. I think that we should go. It'll be fun.”

“Alright.” Meg wasn't sure that she'd be up for partying, but she'd give it a shot because she knew that it was something he wanted to do. She felt like she was under scrutiny whenever she was around everyone else; after all, they knew her darkest secret.

“We don't have to go if you don't want to.” He dished out the food and sat down. “We can always hang here, find something to watch.”

“I want to go,” Meg insisted. “And you're right, it'll probably be fun.”

“Caesar's new girlfriend will probably get up and do the whole stripper thing. She's an actual stripper, so she's pretty good. Works over at Kitty Kitty by the casino.”

“I've never been to Kitty Kitty.”

“You're not missing much,” he replied with a smirk. “I'd rather watch you shake your ass any day of the week. Hey, we should get one of those stripper poles for the bedroom.”

“Uh, no. No way.” Meg shook her head.

“Why not? It'll be fun.”

“Are you going to get up and dance around it?”

“I didn't plan on it, but if you wanted me to, I could.” Meg laughed out loud at that image. Train glared playfully at her, and it just made her laugh harder. Soon, she could barely breathe and had a stitch in her side. “You done laughing at my expense? I'm glad that I could give you so much amusement.”

“I'm not laughing at you, exactly. I don't need you to pole dance for me. I'll say maybe to the stripper pole.” Meg knew that saying maybe was the same as saying yes. She'd find a stripper pole in their bedroom without any more discussion.

“What do you say to my mark?”

“I already said yes to your mark, remember?” Meg had wondered if he'd ever bring the subject up again. It had been a good long while since they talked about it. Part of her had worried that he'd never bring it up again; it was a part she tried not to listen to. Things had been good between them, solid and strong.

“Actually, I do remember that. Tell me, what do you think about doing it Friday?”

“At the party?” Meg knew that the markings were often a public thing; it depended on the couple. She'd known that Train would want his brothers there. The idea of being the center of attention scared her more than the feeling of the actual branding itself. “Do I get to drink first?”

Train laughed. “I'll make sure that you've got a nice buzz going.”

“Alright. Let's do it,” Meg replied without having to think about it. Any fear that she had faded away as Train's face lit up with a smile; it could have powered the whole city. It was a rare sight, one that always made Meg's heart beat faster. “And let's eat before the food gets cold.”

“Chili is good cold,” he protested.

“We'll just have to agree to disagree on that fact.” Meg shook her head. “Oh, I left the cornbread in the oven to warm.”

“I've told you to sit down like a dozen times, I've got the bread.” Train got to his feet.

“And beer. We're going to need more beer,” Meg told him with a smile.

These moments were her favorite moments with Train, when it was just them and they weren't worrying or wondering about anything. Instead, they could just have a meal, talk, laugh and for a few minutes forget what they were both missing.

Chapter Nineteen

Train hit the heavy bag again and again. His hands were taped, but he could still feel the sharp sting of the impact against his knuckles. He liked the jolt, it kept him focused. He'd been neglecting exercise lately, and he could feel it catching up to him.

This basement wasn't as nice as the one at the other house. It was all concrete floors and walls with a dusty wood ceiling. Train had relocated his gym here, and it would do for now, but he definitely had a lot of work to do on the house. There was a lot to be done on everything. He continued to hit the bag, listing the things he wanted to do in his mind.

It was just about as relaxing as sex for him. Meg was upstairs, watching television. She never asked to join him, even though he knew that she came down and used the bike or treadmill during the day. He could always tell from the fact that she'd change the radio station on him or leave one of her colorful workout towels behind.

Train moved to the treadmill. He much preferred to run outside in the fresh air, but it was too icy outside; he'd break something before the first mile. He turned on the television and let the news play for something to look at.

The stories were all essentially bad news: a fire, a fatal car wreck and a body found down by the docks. Train turned the volume up, kept up the pace he was running at. The reporter didn't seem to know very much, just that there was a woman found, naked and beat to hell. Anyone with information was to call the police.

“Yeah, because those fuckers will help.” Train switched the channel to the kids' one that Leo still liked to watch. He finished the last of his five miles with the cartoon still playing. He missed the shit out of Leo.

Most days, he wanted to strangle their inept lawyer. The first thing that he was going to do with any money from the house sale was to find a better quality attorney, not one still wet behind the ears. The bitch had actually suggested that he and Meg end things because of his criminal past. Meg had nearly bitten the woman's head off, threatened to walk out right then and there. The fire that she'd shown that day was something new for her. He hoped that it was there to stay.

The basement door opened when he was doing his cooldown stretches. “Hey Train, Buster's here. You want me to have him wait in the living room?”

“Send him down,” he called back. He finished stretching, grabbed his water bottle and took a long swig from it. Train wasn't sure why Buster was there. He turned off the cartoons, reached for a towel to dry off. He was just pulling on a shirt when his president came down the stairs.

“Sorry to bother you at home, but we need to talk. Can we sit?”

“Knock yourself out. There's more water and some sports drinks in that little fridge if you want it.” Train picked up his water bottle again. “What's going on, Buster?”