Sunday“You can’t do this! Cobra! Killer! Come on!” I scream until my vocal cords are raw and my throat is achingly dry. But no matter how much I protest, how much I yell and holler at them, it makes absolutely no difference. The van doors shut slowly, and I’m left with nothing but Bear’s taste on my lips and the smell of him in my memories. I place my hand on the seat where he sat—still warm. It’s near impossible to imagine that he was real and that the boys would let him spend time like this with me, but he was there, staring at me, making promises there’s no way he could be sure he could keep.
“For you, for the baby, for us.” His stern, steady voice repeats in my head. There wasn’t any sign of nervousness or regret—none of the stuff that I would expect before a fight. But Bear is a pro.
