by Jo Raven
God, I hope he’s okay. That he’s holding on.
I have a bunch of missed calls on my phone from Dena, and the diner. I should call back, apologize for not showing up, make up some excuse of stomach flu.
Letting my head fall back on the mattress, I sigh. There’s a knock on my door, but I ignore it. Don’t want to talk to anybody. I don’t know what to do. How to help Ross. I don’t know the law, I’m not a cop or a lawyer. Elba is on it, Matt and the others seem to trust him, so I guess I’ll have to trust him, too, to get Ross out.
He never told me he lost his pendant.
But he’s told me so much more. Our last meetings were kind of intense. He’s always told me the truth. When would Ed have the chance to grab it?
During every single one of those fistfights they had, that’s when. Was that what they were all about? Were they trying to grab something from Ross in order to incriminate him? Isn’t that too far-fetched?
If only he had an alibi...
But he doesn’t.
“Luna.” The knock on my door comes again, and this time the door opens. To my surprise, it’s not Dad there.
It’s Joshua.
“What do you want?” I mutter, sitting up, not ready for another argument, not today, and unable to rein in my anger anyway. “So Ross is locked up, and I don’t know...” I stop, because my voice is cracking. “I don’t know what to do. Happy now?”
“Listen...” He grimaces, rubs at the back of his neck. Such a boyish gesture. I’ve watched Ross do the same so many times. “I...”
I hear the clicking of doggy paws outside and then Buddy is rushing in, hopping on my bed and licking my face.
“Ew, stop it.” I scratch him behind the ears, and that only results in more enthusiastic licking. “Buddy, stop. God, I need a towel.”
Then Buddy turns to Josh and hops around his feet until Josh relents and bends down to pat the furry head.
By the time he straightens, he has a rueful smile on his face. “I’m sorry,” is what he ends up saying, and I stare at him. “For not trying to understand. But you have to see, Ross hurt you. I blamed him for the years we spent apart.”
“I get it,” I tell him quietly. “Not your fault. Come here.”
I open my arms and he crawls onto the bed to hug me. We rock a little. I smack the back of his head. He chuckles. Just like old times.
“I talked to Ross. He came here, like, two days ago, in the morning, but you were already gone. Early shift, you said. And I laid in on him for bullying you, and chasing you away, and he... he apologized.”
I rub his back, trying to hide my shock. “He did, huh?”
“Yeah. And then I told him that you were planning on leaving Destiny. I was pissed.” He pulls away and a defiant look comes over his young face. “Aren’t you?”
I draw a breath and start to shrug, then change my mind and shake my head instead. “I don’t think so.”
“Because of Ross?”
“No. I...” I think of how Ross never called me, how he may not want me in the long run, and search deeper inside me for answers. “I love Ross. And I love you, and Dad. I think that I wanted to run to avoid my fears. Coming back wasn’t easy... and I’d planned on running away before I had to face them. But that doesn’t work for me anymore. Probably never has.”
“You’re seriously not leaving?” Josh’s eyes are wide, and I hug him again to hide my face against his shoulder. “You’re not?”
“Not yet anyway,” I say truthfully. “Told you, I missed you. You’re my brother. No boyfriend will ever replace you.”
He hugs me so tightly I think he’s going to bust my ribs. Then Buddy is back on the bed, breaking us apart, and Josh groans when he gets his face licked, too.
“He looked so... devastated when I told him,” he whispers, shooting me a sideways glance. “Ross. He looked so bad I even grabbed my bike and followed him around afterward, because... I dunno. I was scared he might do something to himself. But he only went and got drunk.”
I choke out a laugh.
“I never realized that he feels... things for you. I don’t mean love, or anything that gross.”
“No, of course not,” I say, smiling.
“Or maybe it is love.” He sticks his tongue out at me. “Is he your boyfriend?”
“Yeah... I think so.” I sigh, and my eyes burn.
“You think so. Even if he took part in a robbery?”
“He didn’t do it, Josh.”
He nods, face somber, scratching at Buddy’s head. “The local news said it was him, though. Said they have evidence and everything. I mean, I’ve wondered when he supposedly did it. He’d need balls of steel and the stupidity of a gnat to grab a gun and rob a bank, then come look for you and sit around talking to me as if nothing happened—then go on to get drunk and wait for the sheriff to arrest him.”
My brows knit. “Wait a sec... Earlier you said you followed him after you two talked. I didn’t imagine that, right? You followed him through the woods?”
“Yeah, all the way to town. I dunno, there was something in his expression... like he was in pain, and I was getting fed up playing videogames all day, so it was like a real-life game... like, follow-the-suspect-through-the-woods, you know?”
I nod, though my brain has zeroed in on only one thing. “And you watched him until what time?”
“Um, twelve-ish? He took his time, walking around, and then went to his house, came out again, went down to the river to wash his face, then walked to town, bought some booze, sat down to drink it... Why?”
“Because, Josh, the bank was robbed during that time, and you are Ross’s alibi.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Ross
I doze on and off, and I dream of falling and falling. Feels like I’m falling all the fucking way from heaven to the pits of hell. I jerk awake time and again, curled in the jail cell, someone snoring across from me, someone cursing the police, the stench of vomit and booze suffocating. It turns my stomach, and I groan, uncurling and stretching cramped limbs.
I’ve lost track of time. There are no windows in here. No way to tell if it’s night or day.
“Ready to sign that confession, Jones?” the cop who has been interrogating me comes to the bars of the door and grins cheerfully at me. “Put a signature on your sins?”
“Will I get a deal? You said you’d negotiate a shorter sentence.”
“Yeah, yeah. Sure thing.”
I narrow my eyes at him. Too cheerful, too certain, and this is too big a matter. I don’t think I’ll survive for long in prison. “I want to talk to a lawyer.”
His smile fades. “You’d better not annoy the boss any more, Jones, or you can forget about any deal, hear me?”
“I’m not signing, otherwise, just so you know.”
Eyes narrowed, the cop goes away, and I get a whistle and some clapping from the cell next to mine.
“Looking for a good beating from the cops, are you?” The guy is missing some teeth and he looks like something the cat dragged in. “Then maybe you’ll get your wish. If I were you, though, I’d save your energy for prison life. It will suck the life out of ya.”
I bare my teeth at him. I don’t know why, after admitting defeat, after capitulating, I’ve this urge to strike back, or at least annoy the sheriff. Something about a dream of tumbling down from up high—and a hand catching me, perhaps. A sweet face looking down at me, begging me not to let go.
Getting to my feet, I shake out my hands and take a breath, certain that the sheriff will make his appearance next to threaten me into signing the confession.
A door clangs open and I grab the bars, ready for him.
But the man who enters the office isn’t the sheriff. Tall, dark and strong, he looks familiar and the name trembles on the tip of my tongue.
“Ross Jones? Detective Elba,” he says and grins, coming up to me. “John Elba.”
Very funny.
He’s followed by a sullen sheriff and a couple
more cops, all of them looking like someone pissed in their cornflakes.
“What’s up?” I ask him, lightly, trying for nonchalant, because I’ll be damned before I let the sheriff see how terrified I’ve been these past few days, and the toll it’s taken on my self-control. “They took my phone. I asked for you many times but they brushed me off.”
“That true, sheriff?” Elba turns a laser-sharp look on the man who seems to shrink. “You know that’s unconstitutional, right? Jones hasn’t even been charged with any crime yet.”
I wait for the sheriff to say that it’s only a matter of time, that I’ve confessed already, but he keeps his mouth shut.
Then Elba turns back to me, opens his arms like he’s a diva in a fucking opera, and says, “Ross Jones, you’re free to go.”
Wait a sec... rewind.
“What did you just say?” I’m gripping the bars so hard my knuckles are turning white.
“You’re free to go. You have an alibi for the time of the crime.”
Reeling on my feet, I take two steps back. “Who?”
“Joshua Collins, your girlfriend’s brother.”
“He hates my guts.”
Elba looks amused. “He followed you the morning of the robbery, and had eyes on you the whole time.”
“The little shit,” I breathe, torn between annoyance and confusion and... relief. Such relief that my knees buckle and I sit down heavily on the bank of the cell.
Fuck.
“You owe him,” Elba says, still amused, the asshole, and nods at one of the cops. “Unlock the door. And I’m still reporting all of you for refusing Mr. Jones his rights while here.”
The door opens and I climb back to my feet, my only goal to keep upright until I can get out. A new mantra is forming in my mind—I’m not going to prison, not going to prison—and it’s so loud I can’t hear anything else.
Then Elba puts a hand on my back and pushes me out of the office, saying something about “family” and “girlfriend” and I blink.
Because there they are, my sisters and brother, and Luna.
Luna.
My legs almost go from under me again, and suddenly my arms are full of warm, soft girl, and her arms are around me. “Ross,” she’s whispering, “Ross...”
“What are you doing here?” I ask her, a fucking huge lump in my throat. “I thought you wouldn’t wanna see me again.”
“What are you talking about?” She smacks my back and lifts her gaze to glare at me, then spoils it by hiccupping and rubbing her cheek on my chest. “I thought you didn’t want to see me. You called Merc but not me, and you never took my calls...”
“They took away my phone,” I whisper against her hair. “I thought you believed I was guilty.”
“You serious? Of course not. I know you.”
I close my eyes, basking in those words and all they imply. She knew I’d never do something like that. She never doubted me. “Thank you, Lu.”
“God, I knew it, I knew it the moment you were arrested that Ed was up to something, that he’d try to hurt you.”
“It’s over now.”
“Well, they’re still looking for Ed and his band,” Merc says and comes to pound my back, then Octavia and Gigi come to take their turns touching my arm. Not hugging me. I guess I haven’t earned that privilege yet—besides, I’m still holding Luna, and she’s still clinging to me like she can’t let go.
I feel the same damn way.
“I want my pendant back,” I tell John Elba and he rolls his eyes.
“Yeah, you’ll get it. Relax.”
I’m not gonna explain to him why it’s important to me. “And when you catch that asshole Jenner who tries to look like me and who pretends we’re friends only to stab me in the back, I hope you give him hell.”
“Will do.”
The others pull back to talk with Elba, and I bury my face in Luna’s neck. “I can’t believe I’m out, can’t believe you’re here. That Josh followed me.”
She laughs. “I think he’s warming up to you.”
“No shit.”
“You owe him.”
“Why does everyone keep saying that? He threw rocks at me, for fuck’s sake.”
“Because he’s not a bad kid, Ross. And he’s my brother. Who gave you an alibi and got you out of prison.”
“...fine,” I grumble. “I guess I do owe him a little. But don’t let him get any ideas.”
“I’d never dream of it.”
Her eyes are bright, her lashes wet, and she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. “Lu...”
“I love you, Ross,” she whispers, and for the first time I believe it deep in my dark soul. “So much.”
She wasn’t joking. She meant it. Meant every word.
“I love you, too, sweet cheeks.” More than I thought I could ever love someone. I bow my head until our foreheads touch. “I’ve never said that to anyone else. Never felt like this before. I love you.” I take a breath and open my defenses a crack more. “Don’t ever leave me.”
Her smile is sweet. “Never. Don’t ever let me go, Ross Jones.”
I swear I won’t.
***
“I thought you said you’d bring the kids to meet Uncle Ross,” I grumble. “So where are they?”
“I thought you didn’t care for that.”
“Well, I might.”
His brows shoot up. It makes me snicker. “You surprise me, big brother.”
“Well, so did you.” At his questioning look, I shrug. “You and your sisters... you gave me a second chance, and then a third, and then a fourth... You didn’t give up on me.” I glance at the girls, sitting together on the porch. Gigi is telling them a funny story, it seems, because both Octavia and Luna are giggling. “Octavia came to talk to me. You kept writing. I just...”
“Spit it out.”
“You’re an ass,” I inform him, and he just laughs at me. “I’m trying to apologize here. For everything. To you, to them.”
That damn brow goes back up. “I’m not gonna make it easy on you, bro. You don’t get to tell them through me.” And he lifts his arms and yells, “Girls, come close, Ross is apologizing to us.”
“Motherfucker,” I hiss and tackle him so we go flying in the dirt. He whoops and tries to get me in a headlock, but I shove him off and attempt to twist an arm behind his back.
“You’ll have to come over here to apologize, or it’s no deal!” Gigi calls out, and then, “God, you’re such boys... Why do you like rolling in the dirt so much?”
“We’re animals!” Merc calls out and then dissolves into laughter.
I start to laugh, too, and let me tell ya, it’s hard to fight someone while laughing. Pretty much a moot point, too.
“Bastard,” I mutter.
“Asshole,” he mutters back, and I’m laughing so hard I can’t catch my breath, and my eyes are watering. That’s what I’m blaming the wetness on my cheeks on, anyway, and that’s final.
***
I’m sitting with Luna on the rocking chair on the porch. My family has returned home, and it’s just the two of us. The night is clear and warm, the buzzing of insects in the bushes loud, almost covering the sound of the stream further down.
She’s on my lap, my arms around her, her head on my shoulder, and everything’s fine with the world. My dick’s happy to have her sitting on me, too, already half-hard and aching, sending zings of pleasure through me, but I’m so tired I can’t do a thing about it. I’m almost falling asleep, when she lifts her head and sighs.
“What is it?” I whisper.
“I can’t believe I’m here with you.”
“Will kissing me convince you?”
“Mmm...” She grins. “You’re so devious.”
“And an ass. Let’s not forget that.”
“But you’re turning into an adorable ass.”
“Your favorite ass,” I suggest.
She laughs, delighted. “That’s right.”
Pleased, I rock us a
little. “What will you do, stuck here, in this backwater with me?”
“I have some ideas.” She shifts on top of my dick, smirking, and I gasp. “Yeah, I think we’ll find something to do.”
“Luna.” I stare at her in mock horror. “I’ve created a monster.”
“Your monster.” She sticks her tongue out to me. “Your favorite monster.”
“You bet.”
She’s quiet after that, relaxing against me. Eventually, she says, “Will you stay here, in this house?”
“Where else could I go?”
“I was thinking... to ask Dad and Josh if we could adopt you.”
I frown at her. “What do you mean?”
“Have you come stay with us. Would you like that?”
I hesitate. “I’m sure your family is great, when not throwing rocks at me, that is... but wouldn’t they mind the fact that I’d be fucking you under the same roof? Because I will,” I growl and crush my mouth to hers in a short, bruising kiss. “Tonight I’m beat, but there’s no way I’ll sleep beside you and not get you naked, no chance I won’t spend the night inside you.”
She shivers, eyes going dark. “Yeah, I see how that could be an issue,” she drawls, and makes me laugh.
More beats of silence and quiet. I don’t realize I’ve dozed off until she shifts, and a dream of blood and Dad’s angry face breaks into pieces, then crumbles into dust.
“You okay?” she whispers.
AmI? I’m still damn shaken. Earlier today I was sure I’d spend the rest of my life in prison, and now I’m back on this goddamn porch with nightmares about my dad.
Just peachy.
But I have her, so I have everything I need. Tomorrow will be better, and for the first time, the end of Summer doesn’t scare me, the coming of Winter doesn’t seem like a frozen cliff inviting me to fall over to my death.
“Ross.” Her hand rests on my face, light and soft, her eyes concerned. “What is it?”
That’s when I realize I haven’t replied to her. “I’m okay. Tired.”
Not a lie.
“I know it’s hard for you to be here,” she whispers. “That’s why I thought of bringing you home with me.”
I haul her closer.
“I think of your mom sometimes,” she says then, and I go still. “Of you as a child. It reminds me that I should appreciate what I have now, today. I have to ask for my mom’s number, call her. Talk to her.”
