by Ella James
But I’m not sheltered.
My sister is dead.
I blink and I’m dizzy. I decide to knock on the door.
I do knock. I knock a lot. There’s no reason I know that they wouldn’t be home, but I think no one is, because nobody answers. I’m too scared to yell his name or knock harder than normal knocking.
I walk into the alley by the building. All the windows I see on the left must be his unit. I look at each one of them—they all have plastic blinds—and then notice the back one is pushed open an inch.
My heart starts beating harder. I can’t reach it, though. Too high. There’s a rusted window unit on the ground. I shove it over on its side and stand atop it. Then I push the window upward with my fingertips. I listen. I’m afraid of Luca’s dad—in theory. But in practice, I don’t care. Maybe tonight, I want things to go really wrong.
I push the window open more and stick my head inside. I smell him, and it’s like a bolt of lightning seeing the twin bed with a dark wood headboard and footboard. There’s a threadbare rug that looks blue. I see his backpack on the bed. I blink around and feel my pulse beat in my eyes and push the window open more and slip inside and walk with care until I know for sure he isn’t in here. I think no one is here.
I venture out into the hall which smells like bread and juice and carpet, maybe.
Oh my God…the house is trashed. Destroyed. No one is in it. There’s no blood. I don’t think I understand this. I start crying because everything good ends. That’s what it all says—every thing that’s not willing to lie will tell you everything will go, and all the good stuff first.
I sit on the lumpy couch and cry from wanting Luca. When the sun rises, I go out the front door and start walking.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Luca
“Come on, big guy. Careful down the steps.”
Someone’s hand grabs my arm. I know it’s not Elise…but I don’t know…
“Luca? C’mon, man.” There’s Alesso. Hands on my back. “We’ve gotta get into the car.”
She moves beside me. The wrong smell. Through the windshield… There’s pink light on the dashboard. Neon light.
“You sure you have the cash?” she asks.
My eyelids shut.
“We’re all good.”
I jerk awake to that sound—
Gunfire.
It’s ringing in my ears as I pat my body, searching for—but it wasn’t—
I lie back…on something cold…and hard. I hear a whimper. My whimper. My shoulder.
I hold onto that arm with my good one, taking shallow, fast breaths till the pain ebbs and I can see all the blood, and know I’m gonna get sick from the smell. I swallow while I try to lean over the side of the tub. Then I can’t control it.
So much…liquor? I can’t move when it’s over. So sick. What did I do last night?
I can smell the blood again. Blood on my fingers.
I go another round and rest my cheek against the cold tub, breathing hard as my heart gallops. When I get a breath, my shoulder hurts so bad I feel like crying out. But…I don’t know where I am. I look around the dark room. Where am I?
Where’s Elise?
I look down at myself. I’m in someone’s tub, my hips wrapped in a rough towel.
Gotta use that to clean up.
My shoulder. Fuck. I’ve never hurt this bad before. I’m dizzy, and I feel sick again, when the door opens and someone steps into the dark room with me.
“Luca? You all right?”
My eyes shut.
Not Elise.
Leo.
Good it’s not Elise. She can’t. I promised her father…
Elise
A few streets over from his building, there are several blocks where things are open. There’s a corner store with metal bars over the windows and a strip club with a flashing neon pink sign. There’s a parking lot with big, square chunks of asphalt scooped out, piled up inexplicably beside a big, yellow tractor type thing. Beside that are three cars, each one bumping loud music.
I don’t walk by them. I turn around beside the strip club, and I run like I am running for a trophy—all the way to Luca’s house, which is still empty.
I hide in the alley, and I wonder if whoever wrecked the house might hurt me, too—if they find me. How stupid was I to go inside and sit there crying?
I stand in the shadows for what feels like hours, watching pinprick stars behind gray clouds that move over the alley. Then, with my pulse thundering in my ears, I crawl back through his window, run to the phone, and call for a cab.
My cab driver is a woman. I’m so relieved by that fact that I almost fall asleep en route to Ree’s house. Sometime later, I step out onto the sidewalk under fluffy gray clouds and a deep pink sky, and lift my hand at the pigtailed driver.
She pulls off, and Ree runs down the steps toward me.
“Goldfish…” Her voice breaks as she hugs me. “Your mom’s assistant just called.”
Ree cries, and I hug her, and she escorts me to her bedroom, where I sit on her bed trying not to cry until I do cry.
“I’m crying for Luca,” I say as I hug her pillow. “I don’t really believe Becca is gone.”
Ree stretches out beside me and I close my eyes as I tell her about the night.
She sighs when I finish. “I’m glad you’re okay. Not okay,” she corrects. “But that you are here safe.”
I nod, wiping my eyes. Staring at the pistachio green wall of her room, I feel feverish, off-kilter, like gravity has shifted and I don’t know where to put my feet to walk. There’s an awful, throbby ache that seems to’ve grabbed me by the soul and now is ripping at me. Knowing that I’ll never see my sister again. Knowing that her beautiful, sweet body is on a cold table or zipped up in a bag…that I’ll never feel her soft, wavy black hair again. That I’ll never get to kiss the little freckle near her hairline. That I bolted from the house before the paramedics even took her.
I was right that night—on prom night. I have everything and Becca didn’t even get to have a life.
I sob my heart out into Ree’s pillow, and she rubs my back. When I think there’s no more tears, I think of Luca playing charades for Bec on one of her last days and cry more.
“I want Luca,” I tell Ree. She brings me her cell phone, and I call his house two times, but no one answers.
I wipe my face and feel pretty sure I’m going to cry a lot more, so I take a shower. Ree steps in to take my dirty clothes away and leave me some of hers.
“Thank you.”
“Of course. Anything you need.”
I stand there inhaling steam, trying to think of something that will ease the weight of my grief, but there’s nothing. It’s like living with a rock pressed on my chest and shoulders. I don’t think I’ll ever be the same again.
I sit underneath the spray, crying till I start to feel sick. Then the steam around me shifts as Ree steps back into the bathroom.
“Hey. Just checking in on ya.”
I stick my head out. “I’m okay.” Ree is holding her cellular phone.
“Is that Dani?”
She looks up. “I haven’t told her. Have you?”
I shake my head.
“Max sent a text message.”
“About Becca?”
She shakes her head. “He was asking if I could bring something later, but I said I don’t think I’m going.”
“Going where?” I rub my swollen, sore eyes.
“Oh, that party tonight.”
There’s a party tonight. I’d forgotten.
“Luca and I were going to meet there.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Luca
The sun is turning amber-orange between the slits of Leo’s bedroom blinds. There’s a note from Alesso on a little wooden table pushed beside the love seat.
You seem okay so we went out to get something. We’ll be back around 5. Crackers, Ginger Ale if you can take it. I left a few pain pills that are mine from
wisdom teeth. Careful if you wake up. -Alesso
I look at the pills, the crackers, and the little plastic cup full of bubbly liquid and lie back on the love seat. Good arm over my eyes and holy fuck, I stink. For a second, that distracts me.
Then the crushing pressure I felt last night grips my chest again. I try re-playing what happened, but it’s fuzzy. Like there’s something blocking me from remembering in detail. When I try to, all I can see is…the blood.
Fuck. I make it to the bathroom on time—barely—and spend the next ten minutes lightheaded from my shoulder and my headache. There’s a big cut in my mouth, on my cheek, and some soreness by one of my molars.
I don’t want to use Leo’s toothbrush, but I borrow some mouth wash. Stings. One glance at my bruised face and I know that I don’t want to look again.
I get a shower, do some clean-up. My shoulder hurts so bad my head is spinning.
On the love seat…I sit down with a towel around my waist, and my throat’s so fucking tight and sore.
Now I’m standing up. Remembering. I was by the stage. I tried to climb up—but I was too slow. I squeeze my fucking shoulder till tears prickle my eyes.
I can see the thin slats that made up the old stage floor. I can see the way the blood came, dark ink with a gelatinous quality like blood always has.
Cold sweat pops out all over me. I can feel the gunshot in my bones. I can see the blood. I hear the screaming. My screaming.
I don’t know how I got home, and I don’t like that. I don’t know why I got Dad’s bat. Something’s wrong with me. It’s not the normal stuff, the floating feeling. It’s like…I’m not working. My brain. I feel…off. Like time is off.
I know how I ended up in Leo’s house. Though I don’t remember it. I was at a bar. Drank the whole place dry. I think my friends took me to the strip club.
What day is it? How long has it been since I’ve seen Elise?
I want her. I need her. Need to hold her. And when I do I’ll probably cry like a damn baby, but I don’t care. Thinking of that almost makes me cry right now. I focus on my shoulder.
I must have hurt the collarbone pretty bad, because the pain is nothing like before. Every time I move my upper body, I feel sick from how much it hurts.
I eat a cracker, drink the ginger ale, and then have to get up to get some water from the bathroom faucet. Distantly, I try to think of something smart to say to my pals. Giving them a hard time for serving up some ginger ale in a kid cup. But I don’t care enough. There’s like space between me and everything. Like a solid layer of…I don’t know. It’s kind of a silence. Maybe like a blanket.
I take the pills they left and get some clothes from Leo’s drawer and sit down on the old brown love seat. I spot my sling around the bathroom doorknob. Makes me feel sick just thinking about moving my arm into the thing.
But I will. I need it because I’m going into Manhattan.
Gotta be at my best. Like a joke almost, my hands start shaking. My heart races. I feel sick and spacey, like I can’t focus—not even on Elise.
It can’t be real.
My chest tightens as my blood roars in my ears. Tony shot him. I was right there, and he fucking shot him right in front of me. I let it happen. Did I stop him? Steal the gun away? No. I let him shoot my dad and now my dad is dead. My dad is dead and Tony killed him. I watched Tony kill him.
Some sound comes from my throat. I think a scream. It sounds like someone else. I’m on my feet now. I need to walk. I don’t know where. I put on the black basketball shorts I’m borrowing from Leo. Then I’ve gotta do the shirt. It hurts so bad, I think it kind of grounds me.
My eyelids feel heavy, my eyebrows sort of heavy—like my brain is falling forward. I wish it would fall out.
I work my arm into the sling, gritting my teeth as I see black spots for a second.
“Jesus.”
Then I look around. I don’t know what for. Keys. My keys are on the table by the note. I look for a pen, find one, and scrawl a new note.
Catch ya later. I’m okay. Borrowed some clothes, Leo. –
I feel warm and sweaty, hyper-focused in a drifty way as I reach for the door to Leo’s bedroom. Pain meds working. Dad’s drugs. I gotta say I understand the appeal. I walk to the train and I can do it, although my arm and my mouth and head hurt. It’s just hurt instead of agony.
Although there’s plenty of that on the inside.
I try to not think about it, but I’m on the train, and I feel weird and sweaty, and when it comes into my head, I don’t believe it: Tony shot my dad. I didn’t think that it was real but it was real. Now it’s done, and I just can’t accept it.
I get up and pace the train car. I shouldn’t because it hurts. I stand by a window, looking at myself in the glass.
Why would Elise want you?
Then I think of something that hasn’t crossed my mind till right now: How will I tell Mom? And when?
“You’re so fucking stupid, Luca.”
“When I’m dead, it will be your fault. You drew his attention! This is all because of you!”
Rage burns through me. It wasn’t my fault, some part of me argues. But it is my fault; I was there, I’m eighteen years old—today. I should take responsibility. I wasn’t able to stop Tony. He got what he wanted, and I lost my dad.
The only thing that’s bigger than my fury is the awful, clawing pain in my chest. Wanting to go back. But I can’t. I can only go forward.
Elise
I feel like I’m moving through a dream as I step out of the Belluccis’ black car onto the sidewalk in front of Max’s house. Dani dips back into the car, murmuring something I can’t hear to Fil. Ree takes my hand, peering down at me with her eyes wide and careful.
“Are you sure about this?”
I nod.
“If you decide you want to go, we’ll go. No questions asked.”
“I just want to see if Luca’s here.”
Dani takes my other hand. “We won’t say a word to anyone. This is a quick in-and-out operation. We find Luca, bring him back to Ree’s if you want. Whatever you want,” she emphasizes.
I nod. “Thank you.” I want her to know how much I appreciate it, but I can barely whisper. Everything about me feels so small and quiet.
Dani hugs me, and I smile a little at the difference in her five-foot-ten frame and my five-foot-two one.
“What if he’s not here?” I murmur as we follow the cobblestone walk. Max’s home is a white two-story set back from the road, rising behind big trees that line the driveway.
“If he’s not here, we’ll go back by his house or keep calling,” Ree says. “I’m sure he’s okay. Maybe their house always looks like that.”
I swallow hard. It doesn’t—there’s no way—but I don’t want to think about that. I don’t want to cry again. So I just nod.
Max’s house is hopping, with music bumping, a big crowd on the second-story rooftop deck, and the front door thrown open wide to welcome everyone. Max’s parents are on a cruise. He and his sister were going to go, too, but something happened at the last minute. So I guess they’re not worried about Mr. and Mrs. Romano finding out. Maybe they wouldn’t care anyway. Mrs. Romano is vibrant and funny, and Mr. Romano never struck me as particularly uptight.
We reach the front door and it opens wider for us. Then Max steps into the doorway. He looks gorgeous in what seems like the last threads of a tux. He’s wearing a starched white shirt that’s rolled up to the elbows and a pair of black dress pants. His dark hair is messy, flopping in a breeze that smells of grass and cologne. Dangling from his lips: a Camel menthol in an Audrey Hepburn-style cigarette holder. When he takes a drag, he tips his head back, showing off his thick, smooth throat. He blows the smoke away from our faces and gives us all a villainous grin.
I watch as the grin fades and his brows scrunch over his hazel eyes. He steps out onto the porch and shuts the door behind him.
“Hey…did something happen?”
A tear dr
ips down my cheek despite a lot of effort.
“Oh, shit.” He’s all eyes. “Is it your sister?”
I nod, and he wraps his arms around me, pulling me against his warm chest. “Jesus, Elise. I’m so fucking sorry.”
The hug feels good—but not as good as one from Luca. Still, I’m grateful for Max.
“You’re going to be okay. You know that, right? She would want you to be completely happy. Eventually.”
He steps back so I can look up at him, and I nod. Max has known my family forever. He remembers Becca before, when she was small and feisty, doing cannonballs into his family’s Southampton pool to annoy my friends.
“Thank you, Max.” More tears spill down my cheeks. “Maybe I shouldn’t even be here, but…”
“No way.” He gives a shake of his head. “Galante’s in there.” He tilts his head at the house. “Does he know yet?”
I wipe my eyes and shake my head.
He nods once. “You guys still…?”
“Yes. We are.”
His hand gently claps my shoulder. “If you need anything, Elise—anything at all—you come and find me.”
I don’t want to be this person tonight. I don’t want to be in tears, to feel fragile as a sheet of glass. I don’t want my sister to be dead! I feel knotted inside—my chest, my throat, my head all tight and sore—but I go through the motions to act normal out of sheer necessity—to get to Luca.
Dani and I find a shadowy nook in one of the sitting rooms and settle on a cozy couch while Ree goes off to locate Luca. A second later, Jace walks over to us. He’s got on well-fitting jeans, a snug, pale green T-shirt that’s flipped up at the sleeves, and expensive-looking boots, and he looks stunning as he always does. He keeps his curly hair trimmed short, so it’s just a little longer than a buzzcut, but he’s got big gray eyes, dramatic cheekbones, and an angel’s lips—which means hiding his pretty hair doesn’t change his pretty looks. I’ve kissed those lips before, in sixth grade, but there was no spark. Jace is like a brother to me.
