The Man Who Set Me Free (Cresson Point) by Romeo Alexander

Author:Romeo Alexander [Alexander, Romeo]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-08-28T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

I had been right. Those drinks were dangerous.

By the time we finally got away from the light and music of the district, I had worked my way through another few. I had never been a terribly heavy drinker, even at college. Considering I’d also had a decently sized glass of straight bourbon before leaving my apartment, I felt light and floaty by the time we took to the streets.

“God, it feels so quiet here,” I told him, looking around as he led me across a crosswalk.

Tobias glanced toward a minor accident that was holding up traffic. People were yelling in the distance, and the car horns served as a backdrop. “I’m not sure you and I have the same idea of what quiet means.”

I chuckled. “I just meant, it’s so much quieter compared to being in the thick of things.”

“I still can’t believe you’ve never been to the Gras district,” he said with a shake of his head.

“It was never my sort of place,” I admitted with a light shrug.

We made our way further away from the colorful lights and music toward what everyone thought of as the industrial district. It didn’t have any official name like the Gras district, but the idea was that it was where the factories and warehouses were located.

I’d visited the area several times working for Abel to pick up or drop off things. It was a nice enough place, though I knew plenty of people preferred to stay away if they could. The whole area was filled with men and women with stained clothes and lined faces from years of hard work.

“Just like my dad,” I muttered with a faint smile.

“What?” he asked.

I shook my head, laughing softly. “Just…thinking aloud, I guess.”

“You’re drunk and thinking aloud about your dad?” he asked with a smile.

I rolled my eyes. “I’m not drunk, feeling the alcohol, but not drunk. You really need to learn the difference.”

“What made you think about your dad?” he asked.

I looked around as the neighborhood we were in grew a little rougher, not run down, but this was where the city was less concerned about appearances and tended to ignore it. “Just…thinking about the people you see here. The people who get up every day and go to a job that has to be so much harder than people think it is. Working with their hands, the sweat of their brow, all to make sure that they’re taken care of, that their loved ones are taken care of.”

I followed him around the next corner, and he watched me out of the corner of his eye. “You’re a bit of a romantic, aren’t you?”

I gave an ugly snort. “You’re the first person to accuse me of that.”

“It’s not a crime,” he said with a laugh, his shoulders brushing mine. The air was cooler now, and I could feel the warmth coming off him. I was struck by the urge to sidle closer and feel it against my skin. “It just means that under

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