Truth Be Told (Blackbridge Security Book 4) by Marie James (snow like ashes TXT) 📕

I can only imagine what it sounds like to him.

“Who is that man?” Puff demands.

I want to scoff. Alex is far from a man despite his size.

“Is that a bird?” Alex asks as he draws closer, his eyes glued to my phone.

“I am a God, you little shit!”

Alex grins, but I squeeze my phone a little too hard.

“That’s Ig’s son, so quit the foul language,” my friend says before I have a chance to threaten the damn thing with the death he wants to see happen to Wren’s girlfriend’s cat Simon.

“I don’t mind.” Alex smiles up at me, and I’m sure he’s heard stuff just as bad at school. I remember junior high. We all thought we were badasses, and honestly, our mouths were the only thing to back it up. “How many words does he know?”

“I’m right here, you little sh—”

Wren snaps out a, “Hey!” stopping the bird from seriously getting on my bad side. I understand the bird and his personality, but that little fucker doesn’t know when to tone it down.

“I mean…” Alex and I watch the screen still turned to focus on Puff as he walks back and forth on his perch mumbling incoherently to himself. “Dios mio. Esto es dificil.”

“He’s bilingual?”

I look at Alex with a wide grin. “Do you know what he said?”

My language-loving heart waits for his answer.

He shrugs. “He said my God this is hard.”

“Like my c—”

“Hey!” Wren snaps at Puff again. “Stop it.”

“You know Spanish?”

Alex blinks up at me. “Not a lot but you don’t grow up in Houston without picking some up. What else can he say?”

The bird has all of his attention, and I for one am glad he’s distracted instead of still living inside his head and focusing on his pain.

“Such a wise guy,” the bird squawks. “I know all the words!”

His wings spread wide again as he bounces on his perch, sounding like a maniacal ruler of all the lands.

“Can he sing?”

“Name your poison, kid!”

“What about Drake?”

“Trash!”

“Roddy Rich?”

“Trash! Come on. Give me something I can work with!”

“Cardi B?”

“Oh God,” Wren groans. “Don’t even think about it.”

The bird makes a humming noise.

“Puff, pick something else,” Wren insists.

“Gobble me, swallow me. Drip down the side of me!”

Alex busts out with a laugh and I’m just grateful the damn bird didn’t start with the fucking chorus, then I hear him humming it, whores in this house implied in the rhythm.

“That’s epic,” Alex praises. “When can I meet him in person?”

He looks up at me, and God do I want him in St. Louis.

“Come at me, bro,” Puff snaps before continuing humming the tune to that damn song.

I don’t get another word in when Alex takes the phone from me and heads out into the living room. His face is glued to the phone, his laughs echoing around the room as Puff entertains him for the better part of an hour before promptly telling my son to fuck off and go to school.

Wren apologizes, but all I can do is smile. I called because I needed a friend, someone to tell me what I should be doing to help my son get a little bit of his happiness back, and his dumbass bird was all it took. I’m not offended by the foul-mouth little thing.

I’m grateful.

Chapter 22

Tinley

I never realized what people meant when they said they were walking around like their life was a dream, and I don’t mean in an everything is perfect sense. I’ve been in a dreamlike state for three days, every voice an echo, every conversation tainted with the haze of detachment. I’ve been going through the motions, yet somehow still always looking over my shoulder.

It took Cooper less than twenty-four hours to trash the house while we were at the hotel. I was thankful I left the keys to Ignacio’s truck with the desk clerk and took an Uber to the funeral home. I did it out of spite, a way to prove to him that I don’t need him, but it worked out in my favor. Had I brought Alex home to that mess, it might have broken me more than I already am.

I spent over an hour cleaning the living room, kitchen, and bathroom filled with fear that my brother would show up again. We don’t live in the best neighborhood, but with diligence, I’ve managed to feel mostly safe here. I hate that Cooper snatched that away from me so easily.

“Are you ready?”

I turn my head to look at Ignacio. Despite what happened between us at the hotel and the aftermath, I’ve leaned on him probably more than I should’ve in the last couple of days leading up to today.

“No,” I answer honestly, switching my gaze to the small group of people making their way to my mother’s open grave.

Alex places his hand on my shoulder, giving it a little squeeze and it hurts more than helps. I should be consoling him, making sure he’s okay. So easily I’ve let those responsibilities shift, leaving that weight on his and Ignacio’s shoulders. I want to straighten up and hold my head up high, assure everyone that I’m okay, but I don’t have the strength to even lie.

Confusion draws in my brows when I see Ignacio standing at my side of his truck with his hand out. I don’t know when he and Alex climbed out but they’re both looking at me expectantly.

The prospect of losing time helps me to snap out of it enough to take Ig’s hand and climb out of the truck. He moves his arm around my shoulder as I reach down to take Alex’s hand.

My son has been so brave through all of this, but I can’t help but wonder what kind of toll it’s taking on him emotionally. Externally, he seems to have accepted Mom’s death, but I know better. He’s hurting, and I’ve been hurting too much to help him.

As we walk to take our seats for the graveside service, I make a vow to snap out of