Wings of Glass by Gina Holmes Read Free Book Online Page A

forgotten how soft they could be.
    He smelled like cigarettes, which was interesting because he had run out of them the day before. He threw the afghan off and sat up. His pajamas pants, which I could have sworn had been on right when I’d left, were now inside out.
    Jealousy rushed through me, making my face feel hot enough to melt. Crossing my arms, I was glad he couldn’t see me. “Where did you get the cigarettes?”
    Judging by the pinched look on his face, I gathered my question irritated him. “I picked through the butts in the ashtray like a hobo. Where do you think I got them?”
    I chewed my bottom lip, trying to decide if he might be telling the truth. It made me crazy that every time he opened his mouth, I started second-guessing myself, but there I was trying to remember if I’d left the ashtray empty or full, and if maybe his pants hadn’t been on right when I left. “You didn’t find a pack somewhere?” Calling his bluff never worked, but that didn’t keep me from trying on a regular basis.
    He huffed. “What are we, the Rockefellers, with money and stogies hidden all over our fancy mansion? Dag, One Cent, use your brain for something other than keeping your skull from caving in.”
    “Your pants are inside out,” I said coldly.
    He looked down as if he could see for himself. “Then you must have handed them to me that way this morning.”
    I was pretty sure I hadn’t, but the only way that crow would have known to come over was if Trent had called her, and even then they couldn’t have known how long I’d be gone. Still, as usual, a shadow of a doubt lingered.
    He bent his head back and scratched at his Adam’s apple. “Speaking of smokes, tell me you remembered to pick me up some.”
    “Yes, baby.” I tried to lace my words with honey to counteract the bitterness he was sure to feel.
    The familiar crease formed between his eyebrows. “You being smart again?”
    “Stop assuming the worst of me. I’m talking sweet. You used to like it when I did that.” I headed back to the kitchen.
    If he responded, it must have been under his breath, because I didn’t hear it. I went to work putting away the food Callie Mae had loaded me up with. All the meat and vegetables were canned, other than the bag of pole beans a local farmer had dropped off that morning, but I certainly wasn’t complaining.
    I was elbow deep in the second bag of groceries when I heard something hit the floor. I ran into the living room to see Trent standing in the middle of the room and the end table turned on its side. His knees were bent as he groped the air. He looked lost and scared.
    I rushed over and put my hand on his arm. “What happened? Are you okay?”
    He grabbed my hand and pulled me tight against his chest. At first, I tried to wriggle away, until I heard a whimper. I didn’t know how to respond to his crying. He’d never shown that sort of weakness in front of me. Patting his back, I kept telling him it was going to be okay.
    “I was coming to get my Winstons from you, but I can’t see nothing, Penny. I can’t do anything but sit on that stinking couch, wondering what those voices inside the TV must be doing. The screen is black and it’s always going to be black. This is no kind of life.” He wiped his wet face against his bare shoulder and held my arm the way I’d been trying to get him to do since he got home from the hospital. “You don’t got anything to drink in those bags you’re crinkling around in there, do you?”
    By drink, I knew he meant booze, but of course SheckleBaptist was not about to hand out whiskey chasers along with instant mashed potatoes. “No, but I got you cigarettes.”
    His face relaxed as I led him by the arm to the kitchen and planted him near the fridge. He patted the wall, then leaned against it. I walked over to my purse. My heart pounded away as I retrieved Callie Mae’s Salems.
    I gathered up his hand from his side and set the pack in his palm.
    He squeezed