Benji uses the distraction, knocking the gun away from his head, and punching Ethan in the face. The man’s head twists with the violent hit, but he comes back quickly, striking Benji in the jaw with the gun.
Jaxon lifts up and hammers his fist into the guy’s nose, knocking the man unconscious. My head swings back to Benji. I see him reach for his gun at the same time I see Ethan advance on him. He kicks Benji back into the wall, causing him to stumble to his hands and knees.
Delphi lets out a howl of rage I can hear over all the other commotion. He stalks over to Jaxon, placing the gun to his temple. “I’m sick of this shit,” he shouts. “Benji, stand up. I want you to see this. I want you to watch me kill your brother.” Ethan grabs a handful of Benji’s hair, jerking him to his feet. Benji sways.
“After I kill your brother, I’m going to fuck Briar, long and hard. You’re going to watch every last second of it. And then you’re going to keep watching as I put a bullet in each of these girls’ pretty, little heads. But I’m not going to kill you, Benji. I’m going to leave you a gun with a single bullet, and when it settles in that you have no one left, you’re going to do it for me.”
Jaxon pushes to his feet, charging at Delphi rapidly. He nearly catches the man by surprise. The gun goes off and Jaxon staggers, lurching forward before faltering and finally falling to the ground.
Benji pulls the gun from the back of his jeans and aims it at Delphi, but his arm is unsteady, rocking up, and then down as if it’s too heavy to hold.
Delphi laughs. “Fuck it,” he mutters, and then he aims at me. Benji launches himself in front of me as I hear the shot ring out. His body crashes into mine, sending us both down. I’m stunned for a couple long seconds, unable to catch my breath. As I wiggle out from under Benji, his weight sitting heavy over me, I see his shirt growing red with blood. It’s so bright. I press my hand over the wound, pushing down, trying to stop the flow. It seeps in-between my fingers, pooling around my hand. It’s warm and thick and I can’t stop staring at it. I tug on Benji’s arm, but there’s no response.
“BENJI.” I cradle him against me, hugging him to my chest. I can’t tell if he’s breathing. I try to listen. I put my face close to his and try to feel his breath.
This isn’t happening.
This isn’t happening.
It can’t be.
Don’t leave me.
“Benji,” I murmur. My fingers slip away from his chest and search for a pulse in his throat. My hands are too slippery with his blood. They slide away.
I can’t lose him. I can’t lose him again.
“Benji, please don’t leave me.”
I hear the flap of Delphi’s shoes as he moves toward us. I hunch over Benji’s unmoving body protectively, and without thinking, I take the gun laying loosely in his hand. I don’t try to aim, I just lift it in the direction of the sound and pull the trigger. I hear Delphi’s body drop, but I don’t look. My eyes are still fixed on all the red sopping into Benji’s shirt.
A moment later I hear several more shots. POP. POP. POP. I look up to see Flynn on his knees, gun in hand. I follow his gaze just as Ethan plunges backward, three holes in his chest.
I look back down at Benji’s still form. There’s so much blood. Too much. I notice the gun in my hand. My hand that is covered in blood. Benji’s blood. I lie him down gently, careful of his head, and I stumble over to Delphi.
The shoulder of his shirt is the same color as Benji’s. But he’s alive, his pulse noticeably throbbing in his throat. I kneel beside him and touch the gun to his head. I can’t control my finger as it releases another bullet. His hot blood splatters my chest, but I don’t stop there. I move it to his heart, and I fire two more rounds into his body, ensuring he’s gone for good.
Epilogue
Briar
I didn’t attend the funerals.
I couldn’t.
Kameron, Flynn, and I stayed in and mourned Benji and Jaxon in our own ways. We remembered stories from our childhoods and smiled over pictures. Because that’s what they would want. For us to smile. For us to remember.
Kam and I rented an apartment together a couple of weeks ago. We live in fear of retaliation every day and neither one of us wanted to put our families in danger.
Nobody has come for us yet, and I don’t know if they ever will, but I’m not willing to take that chance. Flynn comes by a lot. Sometimes he sleeps on the couch. It makes me feel safer—I think that’s why he does it. Occasionally, Kameron crawls into bed with me and we cry. She knew the Borelli boys almost as long as I did, and she loved them just as much. She’s the only one who fully understands what I’m going through.
We never talk about it in the mornings because we don’t need to. We miss them and there’s nothing that can take that pain away.
School started back up. I’ve been attending, but I don’t know if I can keep it up. It’s just too hard right now. My whole body hurts, inside and out. It hurts so badly. I feel like it will never get easier. And the sadness is overwhelming. It never relents. Not even for a second.
People tell me to give it time.
I hate when they say that. I hate them.
Time can’t mend a shattered heart. Why can’t they understand that I don’t want to live without him? This isn’t like before. He isn’t coming back.
He is never coming back.
When I’m home alone, I sit at the window. I breathe against the glass to see if I’m still alive. When my breath fogs the window, I touch my hand to it and I cry because I wish I weren’t.
Today I’ve kept myself busy, job hunting in town. I put in several applications, but I don’t know if any will work out. Everyone looks at me with that same expression. Pity mixed with fear. Fear because I represent what they thought couldn’t occur in this small farming town. But death and loss can happen anywhere, to anyone, at anytime.
Mom’s supposed to come over later to make dinner for Kameron and me. She does this a few times a week because we forget to eat sometimes. Most times, actually. I have no desire to…well, I just have no desire. For anything.
I just am.
I sit on the stoop for a moment, not ready to sit in the silence of the empty apartment. The leaves are starting to turn red on the trees and I have to look away. I hate that color.
Kids ride by on bikes. A dog barks in the distance. The sound of a lawnmower rumbles from a neighboring yard.
I’m angry. I’m so angry that everybody just goes on living. How do they do it?
The tears prick my eyes and I know it’s time to go inside. I shuffle up the steps, pausing to check the mailbox. I pop the little door open and peer inside.
And then time stands still. There’s a ringing in my ears as I stare into the shadowed box. My body trembles and my heart stutters in my chest. My pulse is hammering. I flick my gaze around, checking every inch of sidewalk, pausing at every doorway, searching every car window.
I look into the mailbox again, making sure I didn’t imagine it—but it’s still there. A single belladonna lily. My hand shakes as I lift it gently out and bring it to my nose. I close my eyes as I inhale its fragrance.
Benji
It’s difficult living as a dead man.
I wear the face of the person I used to be. I carry his memories. Display his scars. Harbor his guilt. But I am no longer Benjamin Borelli.
I can’t pick up the phone and call my family. I can’t stop by to visit with an old friend. I can’t email, Tweet, or Facebook—not that I ever did that shit before. At least it was an option back then.
Now, though? Now I have to don a pair of aviators and a hoodie just to pick up a gallon of milk. People sidestep when I walk down the aisle looking like the Unabomber. But none of that is what makes this new life so challenging. None of that really matters. They’re all minor inconveniences I can deal with. Causing the girl I love to cry, day in and day out, because she believes I’m rotting in a grave six feet underground is what truly makes my life hell.
How do I do this? How do I continue to go on with this life when my reason for living is weeping over my tombstone? Do I stay hidden, allowing her to hurt as she mourns me, all in the hope it will keep her safe? Or do I end both of our suffering?
*Benji and Briar’s story continues in Eternally, coming soon.
Acknowledgments
As always, thank you to my kick-ass family for all of your love and support. You guys always have my back and encourage me to take chances. I love you for that amongst many other things. I could never do this without you, nor would I want to.
Thank you to my sister and editor, Dawn. I appreciate your opinions and invaluable feedback more than I can ever say. Thank you for all of your continuous help, even through the PTO madness! I love you!
Thank you to my sister, Tammy, for all you ongoing help with my website, even though I’m so incredibly terrible about giving you updates. You bear with me when anybody else would have strangled me by now. Love you!
A big thank you to my mom. I love you with all my heart! I honestly believe you passed the storytelling gene onto me. I know I make you mad sometimes because I don’t tell the story the way you would have. But you keep reading and loving my books anyway. I won’t mention the threatening text messages…
Thank you to my Wonder Woman of an agent, Rebecca Friedman. I can’t explain how much I appreciate your unyielding belief in me. I am so grateful you came into my life. You rock lady!
All my favorite author besties, thank you so much for the constant support. And for putting up with all of my awkwardness, which is plentiful. And for making me laugh on a daily basis. But most importantly, thank you for you friendship.
Sunniva Dee, all of the above applies to you tenfold. Not only do you take time out of your busy schedule to beta read for me and offer invaluable advice, but you are always there when I need you. I don’t know how you find the time! But you ALWAYS do and I love you for it!
Thank you Beth Michele for your books, your friendship, and your advice. I am so lucky to be able to call you my friend! AND thank you for recommending your Superman hubby for my cover. I love it!
BLOGGERS! I can’t express how absolutely awesome you all are! If it weren’t for all of you, I have no idea where I would be today. So many of you have gone above and beyond for me and my books. I don’t think I could ever thank you all enough. You guys rock! I love you!
Last, but definitely not least, readers. READERS! Whether you’ve only read one of my books, or you’ve been there from the beginning, reading every novel I publish—Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! I write for you and I will keep writing for you.
Other books by Cheryl McIntyre:
Sometimes Never
Blackbird (a Sometimes Never novella)
Before Now (Sometimes Never 2)
Long After (Sometimes Never 3)
Dark Calling
Getting Dirty (Dirty 1)
Playing Dirty (Dirty 2)
Talking Dirty (Dirty 3)
Fighting Dirty (Dirty 4)
Staying Dirty (Dirty 5)
About the author
Cheryl McIntyre is a mother, author, and insomniac, as well as a reader, movie critic, and incredibly bad singer. She’s lived in the same area of Ohio her whole life, though she secretly has dreams of moving somewhere a little warmer—preferably near a beach.
Her life revolves around four things: family, music, books, and really bad scary movies. If she doesn’t have a kid on her hip, an iPod in her hand or a laptop in front of her face, it’s one of those rare moments when she’s actually sleeping.
You can follow her author page on Facebook where she lives part time. On Goodreads—which is like crack for avid readers. Or on Twitter, though it’s rumored she has yet to master the art of tweeting. Sadly, this is still very true.
Find Cheryl at:
http://cherylmcintyrebooks.com/
Facebook:
https://www.facebook.com/CherylMcIntyreauthor?ref=hl
Twitter:
https://twitter.com/CherylHMcIntyre
Goodreads
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6431156.Cheryl_McIntyre
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