“What do you mean?” I scowled at my best friend.
“Millie’s not like the girls you . . . date.” Moses finished the sentence with a much milder word than the one we both mentally inserted into his long pause.
“That’s because I’m not . . . dating . . . her.”
“No?”
“Nah. She’s an employee. A friend. She’s funny. Interesting. And tough. I like that. I like Henry too. She’s been bringing him by the gym. I’ve been working with him a little. His dad split when he was little, and he just soaks it up.”
“You rescuing people again, Tag?”
“I don’t rescue people.”
“Bullshit. You collect lost causes and charity cases like old, white women collect cats. You rescued me. You rescued Axel and Cory and even that piece of shit Morgan, who thinks he’s doin’ you a favor by managing your bar. You call it Tag Team, but you should call it rag tag team. You rescue everyone. You have an invisible cape. You’ve been wearing it your whole life.”
“I never rescued you.” I couldn’t argue about the rest of it, though I’d never thought of it that way.
“Yeah, Tag. You did.”
“We rescued each other.”
“Nah. I would have let you drown, man. That’s the difference between you and me. At least the Moses I used to be. I would have let you drown to keep my head above water. I was all about surviving. But not you. You would have died before you let me sink. Maybe it worked out for both of us in the end. But you saved us, Tag. Not me.”
“What about all the people you help with your art?”
“I’m just a messenger. You? You’re a savior. That’s why you fight so hard. You don’t know how to do anything else. But that girl doesn’t want a savior. She wants a lover. Two completely different things. Georgia’s more like you. That’s why she and I work. But Millie? I’m thinking she’s more like me. She just observes. Takes it in.”
“Observes?” I questioned, my lips twisted wryly.
“Observes. You don’t have to see to observe. I guarantee that girl already knows what kind of man you are. And she likes what she observes. But she doesn’t want saving. I didn’t want saving either, not from Georgia. I wanted submission.”
Moses’s eyes lingered on his wife, who was leading Henry and Millie around on horses she’d broken and trained with her own hands. Her back was straight, her voice steady. She was a tall, young woman with a lean, strong frame and sun-streaked blond hair that swung in a fat braid almost to her waist. Submission was not in her vocabulary. But then she glanced up, and I watched as her eyes skipped over me and rested on Moses, holding their sleeping child, and I understood what Moses meant. Sometimes submission meant releasing pride, letting someone else take the reins, trusting someone with your love and your life, even though they didn’t deserve it. She’d done that.
“You want Millie? You’re going to have to take off your cape at some point and give in, baby.” Moses spoke again, his voice soft, his eyes softer. “Submit.”
“Who says I want her?” I resisted.
“Give me a break, man. You’re talking to an observer. I know you better than you know yourself. Don’t try to pull that crap with me.”
“So I have a best friend who sees it all and a girl—” I couldn’t say girlfriend, “—a girl who sees nothing at all.”
“She sees plenty. You’re the blind one. You’re blind because you’re scared. And you’re scared because you already know it’s too late. And you should be scared, man. She won’t be easy to love. She’s a package deal. She and Henry. But hell, Tag. You’ve never been about loving the lovable. I’m about as unlovable as it gets. And you practically threw yourself at me. I couldn’t shake you off. You like a challenge. Hell, you live for it!”
“I’m not there yet, Moses,” I said firmly. “Don’t push me.”
“Says the man who told me to go hard and fast with Georgia.”
“Turns out I was right, now wasn’t I?” I laughed, loving that I had been right.
“You were. But so am I. You’re not ready? Fair enough. But don’t hurt her.”
“Now why would I do that, Mo?” He pissed me off sometimes.
“Because you can be stupid.” He smirked at me over his daughter’s tiny head and I considered how and where I could punch him without causing him to drop her.
“Her mother’s dead.” It was a statement, not a question. Moses didn’t ask. He didn’t have to. His smirk was gone and his eyes had that look he got when he was seeing things.
“Yeah.” I nodded. “A while back. Lung cancer. Their dad took off about a year after Millie lost her sight. Millie seems to think it’s because he couldn’t handle having an autistic son and a blind daughter. I don’t know what the truth is. But they haven’t had any contact with him, beyond money. At least he sends money.”
“She’s worried about her kids. She keeps showing me Amelie’s walking stick and a book, a children’s book. Something about a giant.”
“They’re doing all right. They look out for each other,” I insisted.
“Hmm,” Moses muttered, and something oily and dark twisted in my gut.
“She’s not waiting on one of them, is she Moses?” Moses said spirits started to linger around their loved ones when they were about to die, as if waiting to greet them or take them home.