Page 51 of The Coldest: Stay Dangerous Part 2

Today is my unlucky day.

This hotel isn’t even that big. Why am I rolling so much silverware?!

Thunder cracks into the sky before Mars runs into the kitchen and hugs my side.

I put down the roll and try to rub my fingers in his curls, but they’re a little matted.

“I think it’s time to do your hair, boo,” I say as his eyes stretch at me.

Nan’s voice is sharp as she says something in Spanish, that has Mars tightening his hold on me.

See! She knows English. She’s just being rude.

“Can you brush my hair, Wynter? Pleeeeease?”

Nan growls something that has Mars’s face falling, and I’m over it.

Turning my head, I scowl at her. “Yes, Mars. I’ll comb your hair and get you ready for bed. Let’s go.”

Nan balls her face up at me, but doesn’t say anything as I get up. My muscles scream as I try to shake them out. Every morning, Rico has me doing some type of work out. If it’s not raining, we’re on the beach, and if I’m too tired, I’m still walking or jogging two miles.

What he has me training for? I have no idea. But I’m tired all the time, and I know that’s part of the reason why I’ve been so… blah.

Sobriety is overrated. It’s almost as overrated as eating right and exercising.

Mars curls his hand around mine and leads me through the hotel back to the family villa. He’s still subdued, and that makes me angry.

Nan’s a bitch all around, but usually, she’s the nicest to Mars. However, that still only goes so far. From what I’ve seen, his hair is always a source of tension for everyone who takes care of him.

My poor booski is tender headed, and has the nerve to not only have so much hair, but want it long. He, Rico, Miele, and Nan fight over it often, and seems to be the only time she really disciplines him.

Even now, since Miele’s been gone, his hair is in these twisted plaits with more hair out of the braids than in. That just won’t do.

When we get to his room, I take a seat on his bed and pull him to me. “I’ma detangle your hair during your bath. It may hurt, but you have to let me get all the knots out or I’ll have to cut your hair.”

Mars’s face is long as he nods slowly, pulling at my heartstrings. Him and Deucey would be thick as thieves. My eyes flit to the Scooby Doo I have tatted on me, and my heart pangs even more.

I miss my nephew bad. There’s no purer love than that from a child, and I know everyone says this about the kids they know, but Deucey really is something special.

“You like Scrappy Doo too?”

Mars points to my tattoo, and I smile through my warring emotions.

“My nephew does. We call him Deucey Doo…” Tears gather in my eyes as I clear my throat.

“Actually… you know your dad was the first person to call him Deucey Doo. He loved Scrappy Doo.”

Mars lights up, and runs to his toy chest, producing a Scrappy Doo plushie and showing it to me.

“Tío told me, that’s why he got me this. But I can’t remember the story.”

“Okay, tell you what; you don’t cry and let me do your hair, I’ll tell you what I remember about Fredo and Scrappy. How’s that?”

Mars grins and nods, before placing the plushie on his bed and running to the bathroom.

Fuck. Grief is suffocating.

The door creaks, and I look up to find Nan glaring at me. Rolling my eyes, I stand and grab some pajamas for Mars and leave her ass right there. I’m picking up Spanish here and there–it’s impossible not to. But I’m not giving into her mean ass. She wants to speak? She knows what she needs to do.