Faithless (Mistress & Master of Restraint) (56 page)

“I just want to explain,”
Wil growls, getting extremely frustrated. Stanton could kick Wil’s ass in a heartbeat, and they both know it.

“
See, Syn is my responsibility. I’m teaching her to be a responsible adult. It’s what a parent does. We don’t want to see our children harmed. We wait for them to mess up so we can show them the errors of their ways. If I were to allow you to be alone, her feelings for you would melt all of her intelligence... and her resistance. Syn’s already learned this painful lesson a few times over, and she keeps doing it anyway. As every teenage girl always does, they seem to forget that pain when around the object of their desires,” Stan calmly says, and then stares Wil down. “So I’m saying no fucking way.”

“Stanton, you are
not
her father,” Wil hisses.

“I respected Tom, but I’m doing a better job than he ever did. I will be Syn’s father until I die
, and my guidance will lead Syn’s path for her entire life. You’re not good for her, Wil,” Stan softly says, and I feel the urge to cry because he is right.

“
What you’re trying to do is no good for her mental health. You know this. I see it in your eyes. I know you’ve tried to push her away. I know you’re still a kid, too. No matter how despicable your living family is, your dad and Tori were good people. They raised you right, and they wouldn’t be proud of you for screwing Gwen, duty or not, and then turning around and trying to get into a child’s panties- you’re lover’s minor child’s panties,” Stanton stresses in disgust.

“It’s not like that,” Wil protests, but Stanton keeps talking over him.

“Syn’s not allowed to date, have sex, or have alone time- because it’s in her best interests. This is not boy specific- it is everyone. I even told Grant he couldn’t be around unless I was. Syn is vulnerable to outside influence right now… and I won’t allow you to influence her, Wil.”

“What
about what she wants?” Wil asks for me. I want to ask it, too, but I know better than to say anything when Stanton is in his uber-controlling mode. I always just shut up and stare at the floor. Bianca taught me that trick. The lecture is significantly shorter if you yield.

“Would you like to know what Syn wants?” Stanton rhetorically asks Wil. “She wants a friend. Someone she can talk to and rely on. Syn craves someone who is in the game, so she won’t have
to constantly lie to their face. She needs someone who
sees
her, not as a sexual object or as a gameplay. She needs a friend,” Stan stresses, and this time I start crying.

Stanton reaches over and yanks me into his lap like I’m a pet. “Shhh… it’s okay,” he soothingly says in his deep voice. “I know you don’t think I get it, but I do.
I’ve been there, girl. Hell, I’m still there. It’s why Grant and I banded together. You can only survive alone for so long. Grant and I are already in your
ruined by Gwen
fan club,” Stanton says in amusement, but glares at Wil to disagree. The creepy smile Stanton flashes Wil screams that it won’t be long before Wil joins our ranks.

“So Wil, this is how it
will be. If you want to be Syn’s friend, you will do so on my terms. I know how teenagers work. If a parent says no, the kid will do it out of spite… and Syn is the most stubborn, willful child I’ve ever met. She meets a challenge head-on. It’s because of this attitude that I will allow you to see Syn, but I have some stipulations. You will only see her on my turf. One of my people will be with you at all times. You will never mention her mother’s name because it wounds her. You will not touch her outside of affection- no beating her and no sexually touching her. If you break any of my rules I will punish you in a way that you will never forget,” Stanton warns in a deadly voice that leaves me cold.

“Agreed?” Stanton asks.

“Yes, sir,” Wil clips out.

“If anyone figures out that I am harboring Syn, I will personally kill you,” Stanton threatens. “I won’t care if you told or no
t. Now that that is settled, do you have any information on Roman’s attempted murder you’d like to share?”

“I’m sure it was Mitchell, but I have no proof. He was in his house at the time of the shooting. But he came out celebrating a few hours later. Mitchell thought Roman was dead until he received a call from Pearl gloating that Roman lived. Pearl said that if Roman can prove Mitchell did it, she will personally see that a vote of execution is taken. I came here to check on Roman.”

“Because Mitchell told you to,” I scoff.

“No, because Gwen told me to,” Wil snidely says. “She was worried how Grant would take it if Roman didn’t survive.”

I hide my face against Stanton’s chest. Tears bleed from my eyes. I’d foolishly thought Wil came to see me because I’d be worried about my ‘boyfriend’. Come to find out, that fuck came because he was order to. When will I ever learn?

Fingers tug my hair until my watery face is revealed. Wil sadly looks down at me. I start to panic as his handsomely stoic face gets closer and closer. Stanton squeezes me tightly so I don’t have a panic attack. Wil kisses my cheek and murmurs goodbye against my skin. I blink and he is gone.

I start bawling in Stanton’s arms, my body wracked with sobs. I scrub at my cheek, the spot Wil’s warm lips pressed against my skin. All I feel is the lips that touched my mother- and probably in her naughty spots. I want to puke.

“Hey, now,” Stan soothingly says, pulling my hand down. “You don’t rub off my kisses or Grant’s kisses. You let us hug you.”

“It’s not the same,” I whimper.

“I know,” Stan says, highly amused. “You’re not in love with us.”

“Don’t be an idiot, it’s because you’re not actively doing my mom,” I grumble. “You know I love you both.”

“It’s not the same,” he mocks me.

“I didn’t get to say goodbye,” I sob.

“Shh… Wil will be back after he licks his wounds,”
Stanton says in an amused tone.

“No, he won’t,” I grumble.

“He will. It may be months or years, but eventually Wil’s pride will stop getting in his way. He has a lot of growing up to do first. He’s still a kid.”

“I won’t hold my breath,” I sarcastically say
, and Stan laughs.

“Syn,” Stanton breathes against my hair. “I heard everything you said to Wil. I watched him sit down next to you, so I eavesdropped because I was scared that whatever Wil said would hurt you. I need you to know something important,” Stan gravely says.

“What?” I meekly ask.

“I’m proud of you, so very proud, Faith,” Stan sighs the name that feels like a shot to the heart. “I knew your mother- I loved your mother- she’s the only woman I ever wanted,” he admits and my heart starts irregularly beating out of control. Stanton is yet another of her fan club.

“Faith,” Stanton says again and I sob from hearing the word. “I need you to understand that you are… you are what Gwen should have been. Gwen’s life started out in hell, but instead of fighting, she laid down and took it. You will never just take it. The woman I knew and loved, would be proud to call you daughter. You can say that you don’t care what Gwen thinks of you, but you’re lying to yourself. I said the same thing about my own father. When I became a father, I realized how big of a liar I was- I lied to myself every minute of every day. It’s time we both let go and move on- it’s time we lived… and it’s you that made me realize that. You will thrive in all you do, no matter what you have to live through- you are not worthless,” he says, shaking me. “You’ve never been worthless. You’ve never been a whore. You are a murderer now,” Stan matter-of-factly says, but it’s a tease.

A sob hitches in my throat- emotions assault me and I don’t know what to do with them. I feel like I’m suffocating- I can’t breathe.
My heart palpitates. My lungs burn with the need for oxygen. My skin beads with sweat as my body shivers with a cold so deep nothing will ever warm it.

“You’re still a kid, but you are so
much more than that. When you’re my age, I know you will be where you should be- where you were destined to be. You will be happy, and I will be there to see it.”

“Now you’re just talking fairytales,” I sarcastically say, hiccupping on sobs. “You sound like a teenage girl.”

“I’m raising one, I ought to know how they sound,” Stan teases me. “I love you, Faith. I love you like a daughter, and I will always be here for you. No one has ever laid a claim on you, and I am. I’m stamping you as mine, and some days you’re gonna hate it and other days you’re gonna love it. But you will always feel worthy, I promise.”

~Chapter Forty-Seven
~

Silently singing along with the lyrics pounding my eardrums from my MP3 player, a pillow
barely impacts my face, causing me to shriek like a total girl. Stunned, I stare at the half-dead face of my patient. My face splits ear-to-ear when I see the mischievous glint in his eye. If you’re dead, you can’t toss pillows at people, right? 

“And he’s awake,” I tease, pulling my earbuds out. “I was starting to get church ass.”

“What… what’s…” Roman swallows and wets his lips. I use that as a cue to get off my ass and water him. I flow to my feet, and grab the plastic cup with the bendy straw.

“Go slow,” I warn as I position the straw between his lips. “If you choke or throw up, you may kill yourself.”

“Haha,” Roman grunts after a swallow of water.

“Who said I was kidding,” I seriously say, arching a brow in his direction. “You almost died.”

“Oh, shit,” he groans. “You’re… not fucking… around, are you?”

“Nope,” I pop the word, trying to lighten the conversation. “So no choking or puking,” I tease. “And you’ll be golden.”

“What’s chh…urch aaa… sss?” Roman stutters out. The intubation tube was removed the day before yesterday when he could breathe on his own. No doubt his throat feels like a brushfire.

“I went to the same
Catholic school as Regina. Church ass is when you sit too long and your butt goes to sleep and starts to ache. I’ve been sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall for four days. Holy church ass…” I rub my butt with a wince.

“Why… not… sit in the chair?” Roman looks at me like I’m demented.

“You’ve had a few visitors. They needed the chair. I haven’t left this room since the night you were shot.” I gesture to all of the cards and flowers, hoping they will distract him from what I was really saying.

“Ex…plain…” Roman croaks out, smarter than I gave him credit for.

“The first few days, you had a lot of visitors. Every member of the game has been here- multiple times.” I ignore his questioning glance. If he wants answers, he’s going to earn them by asking.

I give Roman a few sips of water. When he tries for more, I take the cup away. I play nursemaid: watering him, wiping his brow, adjusting his pillow, putting the remote in his hand. But he is p
atiently waiting for answers to his unvoiced questions.

“You… sit… here… not… make me…” swallows
- more water. “Parkour with you,” his voice is rough, but his smile is amused.

I bark a laugh as I take Roman’s cup away again. “Yeah, buddy, that won’t be a problem,” I tease with a serious edge. “It will be months before you can briskly walk. I see a lot of church ass in your future.
I hope you like to read,” I taunt. “Your drug dealing days are officially over.”

“What… they… here?” Roman gargles. “Why… you… here?”

“What were they doing here? Why am I here?” I take the nod as a yes. “It’s a big thing in the game- it’s about respect. Hell, they all show up for funeral rites, even if they hated the deceased in life. But in this case, they needed to see you as evidence against Mitchell. I’m here because when they brought you in, I said I was your foster sister. You needed to be protected during the visits, and the hospital couldn’t kick me out even if they wanted. Win-win,” I sing.

“What are… you hiding?”

I give Roman another sip of water. With a loud groan, I sit in the chair. “I’m gonna make you rub my butt when you’re feeling better,” I tease.

“Not… happening… ever…” Roman grunts.

“Jeez,” I draw out. “I was just teasing
because it annoys you to no end. I’m not hitting on you. Roman, but you do eviscerate my self-esteem. For future reference, I AM NOT FLIRTING WITH YOU,” I slowly and loudly say like he’s slow.

“Good,” he grunts.

“Seriously, buddy, I’m wounded.” I clutch my chest like I’m heartbroken and pout.

“Hiding?”

“Fine,” I sigh so deep it reminds me of Ez, and the thought makes me miss him like crazy. Here I am trying to make Roman take Ez’s place as my sidekick… and I just want my real sidekick back.

“
Mitchell was punished for what he did to my momma. By the way, don’t give me any shit, I missed my momma’s funeral because of you,” I warn.

“I… didn’t… do that,” Roman growls.

“I know,” I sigh again. “I was very worried about you. I thought you’d die on me if I left. One minute we were joking on the roof, and the next, you’re shot through the heart. I was… I have no words. I decided it was my job to keep you alive. Momma’s already dead because of Mitchell and me. Thought keeping you alive was more important than a funeral.”