by Tijan
I needed to say it. I just knew I needed to.
“I want my dad back—the one he was before he drank, before she left, before Channing left. I want everything how it used to be, before I had to stab a guy to keep him from raping me.”
My chest rose and held. “I can’t have any of that again, so the only way is if I die too. You’re keeping me from going down that road. You’re keeping me here. I am fighting for you every goddamn day of my life! Don’t you get that?!” Anger licked my insides, pushing everything aside. It rushed over all of it, and I was suddenly enraged. “I don’t give a shit what’s going on at your house. I don’t give a shit how much you want to kill Alex. I don’t give a shit how much you’re hurting. You hurt more. You give a shit more. You deal with it more. You keep taking it, enduring it, fighting back, and you goddamn keep going, because that’s what I’m doing!”
The edges blurred.
I wasn’t seeing straight.
I grabbed for the gun.
Cross’ hand closed around it, but I rotated my back into him, pulling the gun out and away. He couldn’t keep his hold, and as soon as it was free, I flung it. As far as I could throw, as hard as I could throw.
Cross swore and started to go around me.
I hip-checked him, slamming him back. “No! NO!”
He shoved me away, getting in my face now. “This isn’t your decision!”
“FUCK YOU!” I hit him. I hit him again. “It is because you’re mine. You’re MINE!” I started pummeling him, one fist after another to his chest.
I would fight him with everything in me.
I was crew. That was it for me.
I heard a crunch of gravel behind me. I heard Jordan’s voice saying, “Here.” And Cross bundled me up, shifting me to the side as he reached out.
He passed me to Jordan, as Jordan passed him the gun.
My mouth fell open. “Wha—”
Jordan’s shoulders seemed to slump, and his eyes were bleak too. “It has to be his decision.” He was resigned.
“Wha—”
“I’m sorry.”
I didn’t know who said that, but Jordan held me back, wrapping his arms around me.
It happened in slow motion after that.
My heart ripped out of my chest.
I struggled against Jordan’s hold. I kicked at him, twisting, trying to fall out of his arms. None of it was working and he slumped to the ground with me, wrapping his legs around mine, keeping them in place and positioning his head next to mine so I couldn’t hurt him that way either.
I was a pathetic, wiggling worm, and I watched Cross go into that house, the gun in his hand.
I waited.
Nothing.
I waited longer.
Still nothing.
Cross went into that house, and…nothing.
There was no yell, no gunshot, not even a struggle. Just the same silence that always accompanied me wherever I was, whoever I was with. It was always there.
I stilled and finally said, “Alex would’ve heard us.”
His arms tightened around me. “Shit.”
He let me go, and we both scrambled up, running for the house.
I got there first, bolting through the front door. “Cross!”
All the lights were off inside. There was a cold feeling to the house, like no one lived here. In that split second, I took in the pictures on the wall. The blankets folded over the couch. A pink little backpack on the floor, next to a larger black bag. The tennis shoes lined up by the wall. The little glittery sneakers next to them. A piano in one corner of the living room. A table that had mosaic tiles on the top of it. A kitchen counter with mail in a pile, a bag of bread with the end tucked under, a bowl of oranges next to it. A coffee machine in the corner. A tray of the little coffee cups that go inside it.
A cupboard of mugs.
There was a staleness in the air.
People lived in this house, but that wasn’t the way it felt.
It felt cold—like death.
“In here!” Cross’ voice came down the hallway.
We ran past doors until we found him, in a bathroom off the hallway.
Alex was slumped on the floor, a bottle of pills and whiskey next to him, his head hanging low. His body was already pale.
“Shit.”
Jordan said that, but I didn’t recognize his voice.
Cross wasn’t standing over him with a gun. The gun was on the floor next to his foot as he knocked the pills and booze away and felt for Alex’s pulse.
He yelled over his shoulder, “Back the truck up. We have to take him. Paramedics won’t get here in time.”
He wanted to save his life.
Both Jordan and I were paralyzed a second, letting the scene register.
Cross looked up and barked, “NOW!”
Jordan hit the doorframe next to me, using it to push himself around in a tight turn, and he was off.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
My pulse was back to racing, but this was a different type of sprint.
Cross met my gaze. “He’s barely breathing, but he’s breathing. His pulse is slowing down.”
I nodded, my throat swelling. I couldn’t bring myself to talk, but I moved over him and jammed three fingers down Alex’s throat.
His body jerked against me.
Cross moved back, giving me space.
I yelled at him, “Get rid of that. Now.” I nodded to the gun.
He grabbed it, putting it in his pants again.
“HERE!”
Jordan pounded back inside, and with my fingers still trying to make Alex throw up, he and Cross picked him up. All three of us moved together, keeping Alex on his side as we ran through the house. We made sure his head didn’t hit any walls or doorframes, and once we slid him onto the back of the truck, Cross and I jumped up.
Jordan sprinted back inside, coming out with his arms full of blankets. He slammed the tailgate shut behind me, throwing the blankets at us.
“Jordan.” Cross held the gun out to him.
Jordan grabbed it, then leaped inside.
I had one second to grab one of those blankets, stuff it under Alex’s head, and grab hold of the side. We were off. Jordan peeled out of there, spraying up dirt and half of Durrant’s yard.
I didn’t remember the drive to the hospital. I’m sure it was dangerous, and maddening, and wild. I’m sure there were times we might’ve been flung from the back because Jordan didn’t slow down. He drove like he needed to save a life.
I didn’t give a damn that my hand was inside Alex’s throat half the time.
I remembered feeling such relief when finally he started throwing up.
I remembered looking up and meeting Cross’ eyes over Alex’s body and being so fucking grateful we were saving him and not burying him.
I remembered seeing my Cross once again.
Then we were at the hospital.
The doors to the ER slid open. A nurse came out, his eyes bulged, and he began screaming over his shoulder. He ran to the back with Jordan beside him, and all of us helped slide Alex to the edge just as a gurney appeared. I started to go with it until that same nurse touched my arm.
“We got this.” He nodded to all of us. “Thank you. You probably saved his life.”
There were two other nurses with him, and they pushed Alex inside, just as a doctor ran to meet them.
And I knew I would always remember that feeling—standing there, staring after them, with my guys right beside me.
I felt alive.
A nurse showed us to a room where we could shower and change into different clothes.
I was pretty sure it was a staff waiting room, and I was sitting on a bench between a bunch of lockers when the door opened.
“Bren?”
Cross walked inside. I didn’t move.
An hour ago we’d been going to kill Alex. Thirty minutes ago we were racing to save him. And now, I didn’t know. I just d
idn’t know. It was all such a whirlwind.
“Hey.” He kneeled at my feet, his hands on my legs, and he peered up at me. “Hey.” He touched under my chin, raising my gaze to his. “You okay?”
“You were going to kill him.”
He nodded. “Yeah. I was.”
There was no remorse. He didn’t regret it. There was no shame either.
“I would’ve, if he’d had an attitude, if he’d cussed me out, if he’d tried to fight me. I would’ve. I knew what I was going to do, and I’m not going to lie to you. I would’ve pulled that trigger.”
“What made you not do it?” I raked my fingers through his hair.
“You.” If possible, his eyes smiled at me. They warmed, and love shone through. “When I walked in there, he had no fight in him. He was trying to overdose.”
“How do you know?”
He reached behind him and pulled out a folded-up piece of paper. It was wrecked, with blood on it. Cross unfolded it and gave it to me. “He left a note.”
I know I have people coming for me, and I didn’t mean to hurt her. I swear. An eye for an eye. I’m doing it so you don’t have to. Peace out—Alex
I looked up, and Cross took the note. Folding it up, he put it back into his pocket. Then he stood. He grabbed my hand, pulling me up, and wrapped his arms around me, tugging me against him.
It was done. For now.
There’d be questions, probably suspicions about why we found him, but there was no evidence either way.
Cross dropped a kiss to my neck. “God, I love you.” He laughed a second later, tightening his arms. “You realize we never did the whole ‘I love you’ moment, right? You said it at Durrant’s house.”
“I said it because I hoped it would make a difference.”
He cupped the back of my neck and leaned away, just enough to see me. “It did. You have no idea how much. It did, Bren.” Then he pulled me in, hugging me almost delicately now. I felt him brush his lips against my forehead, and he sighed. “Everything you said, it’s the same for me. I’m saying it now. Everything, Bren. You hurt, I hurt. You bleed, I bleed. You smile, I smile. You’re happy, I’m happy. It’s almost ridiculous how much of you I am. It’s been like that for a while. Now it’s just official. You and me. We’re a we, and I don’t want anything to fuck that up. Anything.”
I nudged him with my elbow. “Besides what you almost did?”
He paused, then his body relaxed. His head dropped to my shoulder. He peppered some kisses there, his hands slipping to my back, sliding under my shirt. “I might’ve killed him if you hadn’t been there, and if you hadn’t said all those words. I just might’ve.” He paused, his lips on my skin. “You might’ve saved me.”
Maybe.
I hoped.
I rested my head against his shoulder, reaching up to run my fingers through his hair.
I’d told him everything. Jordan knew everything.
This was… I didn’t know how to feel. My walls were gone. I was exposed, but I didn’t feel like freaking out. The opposite.
I felt strong.
“You okay?” He pulled back, asking again. A softness sparked in his eyes, and he rested his forehead to mine, his hands falling to my hips. “You still want to die?”
“I—” I shook my head. “I said all of that, and it didn’t matter to you.”
He lifted his head, frowning. “Bren?”
“You went in there anyway.”
“It wasn’t like that.”
“It was.” I started to pull away. I began to know how I was feeling. I was feeling that rage again, that betrayal again. “I peeled back all of my walls, and nothing. You still walked.”
“You think if I’d killed him, I would be gone too. That’s not what would’ve happened.”
“You don’t understand.”
“Bren—”
“You don’t!” I snapped, stepping back. “I was going to kill that guy in my bedroom. I was going to do it.”
He tried to reach for me, but I twisted out of his reach, backing up until I hit the lockers behind me.
“Bren. Come on.”
He lifted a hand, but I blocked him, hitting it away. “Stop!”
He fell back, his eyes darkening. He was quiet.
“My dad’s in prison because he killed that guy, and he didn’t do it because he wanted to. He did it so I wouldn’t, because I was going to.” I pressed my hands to the sides of my head, shaking from side to side. “I am messed up, Cross. I mean, holy shit. I’m fucked up, and that guy—my dad doing what he did is only half of it. If you had done what you wanted…”
I didn’t know if I could finish that sentence. I didn’t know if I wanted to put that on him, but it was the truth. My voice cracked. “I don’t know if there would’ve been any coming back for me. If you’d killed him, if you’d gone to prison, I really don’t know what I would’ve done.”
I wasn’t being dramatic. I wasn’t crying. I was just speaking the truth.
Cross knew it. He understood how we needed each other.
I was fast realizing the depths of that—how fucked I would be if he wasn’t here.
“You’re my anchor,” I told him. “You go, I go. It’s as simple as that.”
He didn’t reply, just pulled me back in and wrapped his arms around my neck. Tucking his head right next to mine, he breathed, “It’s the same for me.”
This was how it was for us.
No pretty words. No happy ending. No lesson learned at the end of it all. It just was. We were us, Cross and Bren, and after we stayed in there for a while longer, he took my hand and led me outside.
It was time to face everyone else.
Taz lost twenty pounds.
Her mouth had been wired for ten weeks, but she swore it was the best diet she’d ever been on. Race doted on her the entire time.
That part of his life was doing well. The rest, not so much.
The Ryerson fall-out was epic, and it happened in almost chronological order.
Race’s dad moved to Roussou. Alex’s parents divorced. Alex’s dad moved out of town. Race’s dad moved into Alex’s house, to be with Alex’s mother.
Race’s mom sued Alex’s family, and rumor was that most of the divorce settlement actually went to her.
That seemed like good karma, for once.
The two brothers were now mortal enemies.
The only other way to bring everything back around was if Alex’s dad stayed and hooked up with Race’s mom. The two brothers would’ve literally switched places.
Taz said the whole thing made her want to drink, which she couldn’t because she was still on her meds. And she moaned longingly whenever Tabatha, Sunday, and Monica visited her. “They bring these Kahlua drinks, and I swear they do it to torture me.” She sighed dramatically. “They know that’s my favorite.”
“Keep explaining the Ryersons,” I told her. “Race’s dad isn’t marrying Alex’s mom?”
“No.” Taz settled back in her bed, her textbooks out in front of her.
We were supposed to be studying.
Taz itched under some of the wiring. She was finally getting it taken off tomorrow. “They’re breaking ground between Fallen Crest and Frisco for a new Harley shop.”
“So Race’s dad is shacking up with Alex’s mom?”
It was all confusing and all sorts of wrong.
She nodded. “Yep. It’s fucked up. When Alex gets back from rehab, his uncle is going to be a different sort of uncle.” She grinned.
“Lame joke.”
She shrugged. “What can you do? It’s a mess, all around.”
“Are the two moms talking?”
“Not from what Race says. His mom is using the money from her settlement to buy a house in Fallen Crest. He told me he’s worried she’ll want him to move since they have a better school.”
I grunted. “The rich one or the public one?”
“Either, honestly. She did good with the settlement.” Pulling one of her pillo
ws onto her lap, Taz began to pick at the edges. She didn’t look back up.
“Race wants to stay?” I asked.
She raised a shoulder. “I don’t know. I mean, I can’t blame his mom, you know? Fallen Crest doesn’t have crews.”
“Yeah, but they have other problems.”
“Besides.” She put the pillow to the side. “It might not matter. If she buys a house in Fallen Crest, he can’t go to Roussou anyway. Can he?”
“The district lines are weird. I know of someone who lived by Fallen Crest but went to school in Roussou. It could happen, I guess.”
“Yeah. Maybe.” She sounded dejected. “So.” She seemed to force a lighter, happier tone. It made me cringe. “How about you? How’s everyone treating the new Bren and Cross?” She laughed. “And I so saw that coming—for, like, ever.”
I smiled. “It’s going just fine.”
Though it was great just to see her, I remembered the reasons I’d come. It must have shown on my face.
Taz laughed. “Out with it. I know my brother sent you to find out about Race’s stuff. Everybody’s been wondering. What else do you need to know?”
Alex was out as the Ryerson crew leader. He’d been kicked out months ago, and while everyone assumed Race would step into his role, he hadn’t.
It was crew business. We had to know. “Is Race going to join the Ryerson crew?”
She shook her head. “No. He’s trying to stay out of all of it.”
That was good. But also not good.
“They’ve never not had a Ryerson lead.” I was mostly talking to myself.
“They still do.”
“What?” Was Alex coming back? Were they taking him back in? That was…surprising, if that was the case.
Taz shrugged, shaking her head. “I don’t know who it is, but a couple of the members talked to Race. He was asked to join and lead. He turned them down, but then they came back and said they were going to be fine. There’d be a Ryerson leader after all. That was it. Race didn’t ask. I don’t think he wants to know.”
Well. Shit. I didn’t know if that was good or not.
A new Ryerson was stepping up to the plate. Problem with that was, there were no Ryersons left.
“Maybe a cousin or something?” Zellman wondered an hour later when I relayed the information to the guys at Jordan’s warehouse.