by Monroe, Evie
I grabbed onto the door, yanked it open, and this time I managed to escape his reaching hands and run away. Into the outside world, where there was no one, abso-fucking-lutely no one waiting for me.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Hart
This was a fucking nightmare.
Of course she’d want to see her brother. He meant everything to her. But it was ten of them against the four of us, and we knew they outnumbered us. We’d barely managed to escape that hole with our lives.
Yeah, it felt like shit, leaving the kid. He didn’t deserve to die like that, alone, in that shithole, with no one around him who cared. But there was nothing we could do. I’d go back once the Fury left, but by now, the police were probably swarming the place.
That was why I let her lay into me. I deserved much worse than what she could do to me. I’d promised her, and I’d failed. I let him down, and I’d let her down. I deserved the worst. Not Joel.
When she got done pummeling me, her face ruddy with tears and her hair flying wildly, she tore free, pulling open the door and racing outside.
Behind me, Cullen, nursing a nick from a bullet that grazed his shoulder, said, “Let her go. She just needs time.”
Fuck that. She had no way home and wasn’t thinking straight. She was liable to do something crazy, like launch herself off the pier.
I didn’t think the Fury would come after her now. They’d gotten the best revenge, on all of us. No need to go after the sister, now that Joel was dead. They’d spanked us; no doubt about it. Now, it was our move.
On the way home, the desire to rip their heads off hadn’t softened. It’d only grown, multiplied, festered. But looking at Charlotte, I felt like the biggest fucking piece of shit, ever. But, that wouldn’t bring him back. That wouldn’t make things all right for Charlie. That’s all I wanted. And it wasn’t possible.
I chased after her, the least I could do was stay with her. Try to make sure that she was safe until she could process the news. I found her at the end of the pier, looking out over the ocean. I scratched at my forehead, because the skin felt tight and itchy, and only then did I realize I had a gash from diving under the dumpster to escape the flying bullets. I was bleeding pretty bad, probably needed stitches, but at that moment, nothing else mattered. I crept up behind Charlie and stood next to her, trying to think of something to say. Something to make it better.
Was there anything?
Hell. No. I’d done a lot of shitty things in my life to people, but this was the worst. My throat tightened and for a second I wished I’d let one of the Fury’s bullets get me, instead of Joel. I deserved it more than he did. I should’ve been in that spot, not him.
“Tell me what happened,” she said after a moment, hugging herself in the cool breeze coming off the water. She shivered, covering her pale limbs in goosebumps.
“You really want to know?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
“Why? It won’t—”
“You don’t get it. I know everything about him. Everything. I think I deserve to know how he died.”
It was the last thing I wanted to talk about. I exhaled and tried to get the explanation over as soon as possible. My tongue felt weighed down by lead as I spoke.
“We got to the parking lot in one of the abandoned factories in the canning district. The Fury had boxed us in, and Scar was holding Joel. We tried to get him to let him go, but he wouldn’t. Then he shot him and all hell broke loose. There was nothing we could do.”
She swallowed. “Did he . . . say anything before he died?”
I wished I could tell her he had. That his last words were about her and how much he loved her. She needed to hear that right now. Needed to have some little bit of hope to hold onto. But real life isn’t like the movies. I shook my head.
“Did they say why? Was it because they found out he’d been talking to you?”
Her voice was so weak. She was going to go over this until she made herself feel as bad as possible. I muttered, “No. They said they were just playing with him. They were going to kill him, no matter what happened.”
The fucking assholes. If only he’d come to us first. We could’ve made him a Cobra, made him a man, so the Fury never would’ve thought about fucking with him. But he was dead. I had to stop thinking about the what if’s.
She put a hand to her mouth. “Yeah. Well, that kind of makes sense, doesn’t it? We’ve been used all our lives. I knew he wasn’t one of them. He was too good for them. I only wish he knew it, too, and didn’t try to be something he clearly wasn’t.” Her voice faded away, and she sniffed and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “Did he . . . was he scared?”
Yeah, he was. And it wasn’t because he was a pussy little kid, either. Even the strongest of men would’ve been pushed over the edge if they’d been in his shoes. It was a fucking awful way to go, with a barrel of a gun to the back of his head, never knowing when the bullet would come and rip off his skull. I knew if I lived to be a hundred, I’d never forget that image—or him. It was burned in my head. I couldn’t tell her that. “It happened really fast. He didn’t have time to be afraid.”
She hung her head, almost like she knew I was lying to protect her, and tears slipped from her cheeks, landing on the boards at her feet. “Was he alone? Did you talk to him before—before—” She stopped and let out a loud sob.
“Like I said, none of us had time. He was gone too quick.”
I wanted to wrap an arm around her, but she fisted her hands, tilted her head to the sky and suddenly let out a loud, piercing scream. It was the worst sound I’d ever heard. Then she sank to her knees, covered her face with her hands, and started to bawl.
I put a hand on her shoulder, but she shook me away.
After sobbing for a while, which was pure hell in itself, she sniffled, and wiped at her eyes. “I always imagined something like this would happen. Especially when he started hanging out with the wrong crowd. That’s why I was so protective of him. I guess I always knew he was going to leave me. And I didn’t want him to go. He’s all I have. And now he’s gone.”
She sounded like a little child. She took a deep breath and looked over at me. “I always thought it’d be a police officer, knocking on my door at three in the morning. Not you.” She blew out the air and shook her head. “Not that it matters. Not that anything matters. I did everything in my power to keep this from happening, and it wasn’t enough. What a waste.”
I shook my head. “No. It wasn’t a waste. He knew you loved him, Charlie. He had a lot more than all of us guys have. You really loved him.”
“But it’s not enough. It wasn’t enough to keep him alive.”
Overhead, a seagull cried, and she hugged herself tighter. “I need to go,” she said after a minute, jumping to her feet, turning her back on the ocean.
Did she want to go home? I couldn’t imagine what an ordeal that would be, going back to the apartment she shared with her brother, seeing his room, his things, all traces of his life. How would she handle that? “Where?”
She let out a sad laugh. “Where else? I don’t have many choices, Hart. If I did, this wouldn’t have happened. If I did, he never would’ve gotten involved with people like you to begin with.”
People like me? So, I was no better than the people who’d ended his life.
Yeah, she was right. I’d fucking lied to her. Betrayed her.
And she wanted me out of her life.
She turned away and mumbled, “Besides, I need to feed my pets.”
In all of this, she still remembered her pets. I didn’t understand, but then again, I’d never lost anyone that close to me. I searched my mind for the right thing to say but came up blank. I wished she’d just let me hold her, but her posture, arms crossed over her chest, screamed Stay the fuck away.
Finally, something came to me. “I can go feed your pets. Why don’t you let me take you to my place? You can rest.”
“No,” she said definitively, as if I’d j
ust offered to take her to hell. “You’ve done enough. I can just get an Uber.”
“You think that’s a good idea? You shouldn’t be alone.”
She stiffened, deliberately avoiding my eyes. “I am alone.”
“You don’t have to be.”
“No. Hart. I don’t . . . I can’t . . .” She shook her head and started to walk away.
I understood. I’d destroyed her trust, taken everything that meant something to her away.
She’d rather be alone than with me. Than with an asshole from a club, just like the clubs who’d taken her precious brother away.
I watched her walk all the way toward the road, her nose buried in her phone, ordering an Uber that would take her away from me.
And I had a feeling it would be for good.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Charlotte
On my last day of work at the Aveline Bay Veterinary Hospital, my co-workers threw me the party to end all parties. They had balloons and cupcakes and enough fanfare that one would think it was a kid’s first birthday party, and the funny thing was, I walked into the cafeteria on my last day of work, having absolutely no clue that any of it was going to happen.
“SURPRISE!” they all shouted as I went inside.
I just stared. I was leaving. Moving on. I wasn’t getting married or having a birthday or anything that required a celebration. In fact, I’d been so sad about it, because I really loved the job. But I needed to make a change, and it was the right time.
“We’re going to miss you so much,” Barb said to me, hugging me. She gave me a little envelope, and when I opened it, my jaw dropped.
It was a check for a thousand dollars. “What is this for?”
“We know things haven’t been easy for you in the past few weeks,” she said, squeezing my shoulders. “And we understand why you have to leave. But we wish you all the best. And we want you to have a good start.”
I needed the money. Joel’s funeral had put me in debt. It had also been a wake-up call. After the service, I’d gone home, looked around the apartment we’d shared, and decided that I couldn’t be there without him. Immediately, I started to make plans to leave. I found a job at a veterinary hospital just a town over, and it paid even better than my current job. Then I located a little one-bedroom apartment, in a high-rise overlooking the beach. It was almost insane, how easily the pieces fell into place. I only wished Joel could’ve been there to see it happen.
When I left the Cobra’s clubhouse that day, I realized what a lesson in insanity it was, going back to our apartment. Every little piece of it reminded me of him. I had a hundred pictures of him and me on the walls, our entire sordid, fucked up life together He’d left his clothes strewn all over the apartment, and they smelled like him. His whiskers from shaving—the ones I’d always told him to clean up, for fuck’s sake—still littered the sink.
I staggered through the place, feeling like I was going to throw up, and then I went to my bedroom and buried myself in the closet, where I couldn’t see or hear or smell him. I stayed there all day, until I got a call that night.
From the police.
“We’ve located a body that we believe is your brother,” an officer said. “Can you please come and identify him for us?”
So I did. I had to. I was the only one who could. It was the worst, most awful thing I’d ever had to do. When I looked down on the stretcher and saw what they’d done to him, I sobbed and fell on his body and told him I was sorry for not being a better big sister.
After that, I missed him every goddamn minute of every day. I broke down nearly every ten seconds. The first few days, I stayed in bed all day, wishing I could curl up and die.
Then, I did what I’m best at. I got out of bed, sucked it up, and started taking care of business, planning his funeral.
The funeral was a good thing. The first step to healing. I’d always thought it was just him and me, against the world, but countless people showed up at the funeral to pay their last respects. His friends. His teachers from school. My co-workers. Our neighbors. The service was actually crowded.
And at the funeral, far back by the road, because I didn’t think they wanted me to see—a line of men with Cobras on their kuttes, standing in front of their bikes, heads bent respectfully.
They’d left right as the funeral ended, while I fielded hugs and kisses of sympathy. I didn’t have a chance to see if Hart was among them. But I imagined he was. He’d probably organized the whole thing.
Hart had been checking on me, in the weeks since. No, he never talked to me, because I never answered his calls, but sometimes I’d hear a motorcycle outside, and when I rushed to the window, I’d see him driving by.
After the funeral, I drove back to the apartment, and it was like I could almost hear Jojo spurring me on. Get out of here, sis. You know you want to. Just do it.
So maybe it wasn’t Santa Cruz, but it was somewhere where I could shake off the dust. Start a whole new life. And I knew Jojo would be smiling down at me while I did it.
But as I was celebrating the end of this chapter, something very unexpected happened.
In the midst of all the well wishing, I started to get a little hot in that little cafeteria. Stuffy. I had trouble breathing and asked people if they were hot. They all said no, but Barb sent someone to turn down the thermostat. Then, they brought out a cupcake cake, a chocolate one from the bakery down the street that made the best desserts. I took one sniff of it, and it hung heavy in my nostrils, like something rotten.
I knew I was going to be sick.
As calmly as I could, I excused myself, went to the rest room, and threw up. I spent the next few minutes, dry heaving over the toilet, then wiped my mouth with toilet paper. After I flushed the toilet, I cupped water from the faucet in my hand and sucked it down. I looked at my sweaty brow and pale complexion in the mirror. The girl that stared back at me was terrified of what this might mean.
I looked up at the ceiling and sighed. Jojo, if this is your idea of a practical joke, it’s not funny.
I managed to make it through the rest of the party, nibbling on chips instead of cupcakes, and sipping lots of water, which seemed to settle my stomach. The second my shift ended, I kissed everyone goodbye again and high-tailed it to the nearest CVS.
When I got home, I walked around the maze of disarray that was my half-packed apartment. The animals were having fun with the new décor, and Opie curled up to nap in one of the cardboard boxes. I took a second to pet them, then went into the bathroom, read the instructions on the box, and peed on the wand.
Two minutes later, I had my answer.
I was pregnant.
I walked out of the bathroom, stunned, and collapsed on the sofa. “Not funny, Jojo,” I said aloud, as Bert jumped onto my lap. I started to stroke his fur. “Not funny at all!”
All right, so this threw a big wrench in my plans. But that was okay. I was a survivor. I’d make it work. I lifted my phone out of my purse and noticed I had a missed call. From Hart, again. For at least the tenth time.
You know you should call him. He needs to know this. Jojo’s voice, again. And he was right. I couldn’t keep something this big from Hart. He deserved to know.
So I picked up the phone and punched in a call to him. He answered even before it had started to ring. “Charlie?”
My heart twisted. Once upon a time, I may have hated that nickname, but not anymore. His voice struck a chord deep inside me. “Hi, Hart.” I took a deep breath. “What are you up to?”
He paused before saying, “I’m at the garage. How are you doing?”
“Okay. I’m all right,” I said, as Ernie came by and crawled onto my lap. I gnawed on my lip. “I was wondering . . . can I come over there? I want to talk to you.”
Even though he’d been trying to get in touch with me, my heart still hammered in my throat. I’d been ignoring him for a long time, trying to heal. Well, more than a few times I’d gotten the urge to call him, but I’d always s
uppressed it, reminding myself that associating with people like Hart had gotten Jojo in trouble, ended his life.
As I sat there, waiting for his response, I told myself it would be fine if he didn’t want to talk. I’d be better off. I’d survive, even as a single mom, in a strange place, on my own. I always had.
Deep down, I didn’t believe that I’d be better off without him. It was Jojo’s voice that always came in, whenever I tried to tell myself that. He’s not like those Fury guys. I told you. He’s a good man.
“I’m just getting off my shift,” he said after a few minutes, his voice sounding hard and emotionless. “I can swing by your place.”
“Oh. Sure. That’s good. Thanks.”
“See you.”
He ended the call and I looked around. The place was a pigsty, but I couldn’t do anything about it. I scrambled to the bathroom mirror and splashed water on my face and brushed my hair back into a ponytail.
Only a few minutes later, I heard the sound of his bike coming into the parking lot. I took a deep breath and fixed my hair again, then looked at Ernie and Bert, who were probably wondering what I was so nervous about.
“I’m not nervous,” I insisted to my silent little audience, with their droopy little sad eyes, but then I opened the door before he’d even knocked.
Hart stood leaning against the doorframe; fist raised to knock on the door. He dropped it. The light of the streetlamps behind him shadowed his face so I couldn’t read his expression. “In or out?” he said in a low voice.
I always wanted him in, no doubt about that. I pushed the door open a little and he took a step closer to me.
I knew he’d come directly from work and hadn’t cleaned up yet. He had streaks of grime up his thick forearms, and smudges of grease turned his white t-shirt black. A light sheen of sweat coated his face, and he still had a thick red scar over his eye from a month ago, giving him a perpetually raised eyebrow asking a question.