CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The beginning of the fall into darkness
Chase
I searched greedily for Trace. The party was already in full swing, and Mo had yet to show her pretty face, which meant Trace hadn't waltzed in and allowed me to sweep her off her feet.
Nixon wasn't going to be able to make it on account he had bloodstained hands — literally. I still couldn't believe he'd done it. Killed his father and then asked me about a damn party as if the stench of blood wasn't still fresh on his clothes. I'd answered as normal as possible, and with shaking hands, downed three shots in a row.
This wasn't supposed to be our life.
I remembered a time when I was little and I'd wanted to be an astronaut. How badass, right? To be able to see the world from above, to travel, to be something other than what was expected of me.
My dreams had been crushed the minute I'd confided in my father.
He'd laughed in my face and said that Abandonato men did not become astronauts. "Why…" he'd asked "…did I want to see the world when I was going to own it?"
I'd had no idea what he'd meant at the time. Had I known I probably would have run away, but I wanted to impress my father. He was powerful, wealthy — everything I thought was important for a man to be.
And he didn't cry.
I cried.
Which made me weak.
But I knew that Nixon cried too. It had been the only thing that had kept me together when I heard my first gunshots.
When I saw my first kill.
When my father threw away my astronaut action figure and then set fire to the space magazine he'd found underneath my bed.
Little boys are meant to dream. They're meant to explore and discover their purpose.
My little trip down memory lane almost made me miss Mo's entrance. Trace was close behind, looking like she'd never once set foot in a party before.
Rather than approach, I observed while she weaved through the crowd, careful to keep her eyes averted like she was afraid to stare anyone directly in the face.
Phoenix elbowed me and pointed. "She's not going to last."
"She'll be fine."
He shrugged and grabbed another beer. By my count, he was well into his tenth drink, but I wasn't his mom or his dad, so for me to say something just seemed… stupid and totally out of character. I'd had my fair share of drunk moments.
"I'm going to kiss her," Phoenix stated boldly.
The hell he was. "No, you aren't."
"I am." Phoenix grinned and then hit his knee and laughed, spilling his drink over the cup. "Dude, you must have it bad if you're getting that pissed off over a kiss. Shit, it's not like I said I was going to screw her."
My fists clenched at my sides.
"Lighten up." He elbowed me. "It's a party."
I nodded and poured myself a drink. He was right. I was being an ass. I was acting like a lovesick idiot.
Trace turned and smiled in my direction.
My feet begged me to walk toward her.
Instead, when a girl stepped into my line of vision, a girl whose name I didn't even know… I kissed her aggressively across the mouth, tasting beer on her tongue, hating myself in that moment more than ever.
I needed to push Trace away.
Just like Nixon.
She was bad for us.
Bad for me.
Bad for my lifestyle.
And didn't belong in a world where guns were necessary. No, she belonged in space, with the astronauts, with the dreamers. And I wasn't going to take that away from her like my father had taken it away from me. She deserved more, and I needed to back off before it was impossible to give it to her.
The girl gripped the back of my head with her talons and moaned into my mouth. "Mmm, Chase."
"Mmm," I wanted to say to stranger-whose-name-I-don't-know-who–kisses-like-shit. Instead, I threw her against the nearest wall and hurled my beer onto the ground. She wrapped her legs around me, and I allowed myself to get lost in the identity I'd created for myself at Elite, hoping like hell it would be enough to keep me far away from what I really wanted, and who I really was.
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