Winston’s POV
“Hey, Ma. How’re you feeling?” Winston asked, his voice going soft as the woman in question picked up the phone. “Yeah—No, I’m okay. I promise. I gotta ask you— Ma… Ma, listen… There’s this boy— No! Ma! No!” Winston’s face lit up a bright red for a moment as he bickered with his mother over the phone. A few minutes later and Winston had explained the situation to the bets of his ability, trying to sugarcoat it as much as possible. Eventually the conversation began to wind down. “Yeah, Ma. Love you too. G’night.” He hung up the phone with a sigh, still a bit embarrassed. “She says she’d like to meet y’all first, but tonight’s fine for sure. You mind talkin’ to her tomorrow mornin’? She’s real sweet, I promise.”
“I will speak with her whenever is possible,” Anthony answered briskly, rolling back his shoulders. “But my contact with both her and you will be limited. As limited as I can manage. I hope you understand that.”
And that was it. No thank-you’s, no acknowledgements, just a declaration delivered in a cold, detached tone of voice. But that was his way—he was only trying to protect himself. He’d be betraying these people soon enough, leading them to their deaths. He couldn’t afford to get cozy.