by Cassie Wild
I sank back against the counter and stared at him with dull eyes. It took almost all of my strength to lift the bottle to my lips as I held his gaze. His eyes grew tight around the corners, and I hated myself just a little bit more but didn’t stop.
“Why the fuck not?” I countered. “We both know it’s true. My fuckin’ car. Nobody had any reason to kill Isabel. And Marcos sure as hell wouldn’t kill his own sister.”
“Marcos is a cold piece of work,” Brooks argued. “There’s no telling what he might do.”
But I shook my head. “He’s cold, yeah. But he’s scared to death of his father…and Duardo. He wouldn’t do shit that might make them go after him. He’s an evil fuck, but he ain’t stupid.” Tipping my head back to rest it on the couch, I stared at my older brother. “You forget. I know the bastard better than you do. Spent more time with him. He could’ve had Cormac plant that bomb and—”
“No.” Brooks shook his head and turned away.
I stared at him. “Don’t tell me he’s suckered you like he has Dad and Briar.”
“I’m not suckered by him,” Brooks replied. He turned back, arms folded across his chest. “But I’ve spent more time around the guy than you have. And I know what guilt looks like. He feels like shit for what happened to Isabel, but he isn’t responsible.”
I snorted out a laugh that hurt my aching head. “What, is your spidey-lawyer sense tingling?”
Brooks opened, then shut his mouth. After a few seconds, he pierced me with a hard look. “You know, I didn’t come here to argue with you.”
“Then why did you come?”
“Because you’re my brother. I love you. I’m worried about you.”
I lifted the bottle to my lips and drank. As the scotch burned its way down, I said, “Don’t. I didn’t do shit-all to deserve it.”
He tried to talk to me again, but I just took another swallow then put the bottle down and stretched out on the couch.
Closing my eyes, I tuned him out.
After a couple of minutes, I fell asleep.
Six
Tish
The sound of the door unlocking had me closing my eyes. Putting my cell phone down, I grabbed a tissue and wiped at my eyes, hoping they weren’t as red as I suspected they were.
“Tish?” Wylie called out.
“In here,” I said, dabbing at my eyes one last time. I should have put the phone up thirty minutes ago. But I’d kept scrolling through the well-wishes and the pictures people had posted to my Facebook. Today was Mom’s birthday. People had remembered.
“Man, you wouldn’t believe the day I’ve had,” Wylie said, his voice still faint. He was still in the hallway, I knew, most likely hanging up his coat.
I didn’t want to hear about his day. Maybe that was selfish. I didn’t care. More than once over the past few weeks, I’d wished I hadn’t given Wylie a key to my temporary apartment. I didn’t plan on staying here for long. I had no idea where to go, but I couldn’t keep staying in a hotel, and Wylie’s place was out of the question.
So was the house where I’d grown up with my parents. I’d already sold or donated everything but the few pieces or keepsakes I’d decided I’d hold onto. Now I just had to wait for the house to sell.
“Hey, baby.” He came around the edge of the couch.
I lifted my head and tried to smile, but the effort fell flat.
He either didn’t notice, or it didn’t bother him, because he came over and dipped his head to kiss me.
I let him, but when he started to nuzzle my neck, I eased away. “Not now.”
“Yeah.” He pulled back, and from the corner of my eye, I could see the strained smile on his face. “So what have you been up to today?”
I knew what he was wanting to hear.
I still hadn’t started going back to classes, and if I didn’t soon, I might as well drop out for the semester.
But instead of making up excuses or telling him how I’d spent the morning watching Netflix, then the afternoon crying as I read message after message about Mom on Facebook, I just shrugged. We’d had these talks so many times, I already knew how the script would play out. Hoping to circumvent it, I got up, shrugging free of my nest of blankets. “Are you hungry?”
“Sure.” His tone was disinterested, but I knew he wouldn’t turn down a free, decent meal. Wylie actually could cook, but he rarely bothered. During the week, he never did. I couldn’t blame him, really.
Three months ago, he’d landed himself a temporary teaching job at Northeastern State University, covering the class for a professor he’d known for years. He’d been a teacher’s assistant for her back when she was still at Oklahoma State, but a few years earlier, she’d left for the job at Northeastern.
She was on a leave of absence for the next few months. She’d gotten pregnant, and Wylie said that she told him it was a high-risk pregnancy, so he was going to have the job for the rest of the academic year.
Personally, I was thankful. He’d been at loose ends for a while, working odd jobs as he tried to find a job that let him put both his majors to use—political science and philosophy. Teaching political science wasn’t what he planned on, but Wylie seemed to enjoy it.
And it kept him from reminding me that time was slipping away and that every day I didn’t go back to college would make it that much harder to earn my masters, then go on and earn my Ph.D.
I just couldn’t seem to make him understand that those plans had been for my old life—the one that had involved me taking over my parents’ store, marrying Wylie, settling down, maybe having a baby in five or six years.
Now, when I thought about that life, it felt…alien. Foreign. I couldn’t even wrap my mind around it.
“…you think?”
Wylie came up behind me and slid his arms around my waist, catching me off guard.
Only then did I realize he’d been talking to me, and I’d been completely unaware. Hoping he wouldn’t notice, I just shrugged. “I’ve been in the mood for pasta all day. Does that sound okay to you?” I turned my head to kiss his cheek before wiggling out of his arms and going to the fridge.
“Well, I guess that answers that question,” he replied, a faint smile edging up his lips. “We’ll have to go out for dinner some other time.”
“Sorry.” I smiled weakly. Well, at least I’d figured out what he’d asked.
I had my hands in the warm, soapy water when Wylie came up behind me. I hated that my overall reaction was irritation, but seriously. I was washing dishes. The dishwasher in the apartment didn’t work all that well, and I was tired of calling the manager about it.
Wylie cupped my hip in one hand and tugged me closer to him.
Dishwashing did not make me feel sexy. As he glided one hand up my side, I clenched my jaw, then made a purposeful attempt to relax it.
But when he bumped his hips against my butt and bent to nuzzle my neck, I wasn’t so good at controlling my response. “Wylie, I’m washing the dishes, okay?”
“They’ll be there later.” He tried to turn me around.
I resisted, getting more annoyed. “I don’t want to do them later. I want them out of the way so later, I can go to bed.”
His hands fell away, but he stayed close long enough that I was well aware of how he stiffened.
“What’s the deal, Tish?” he asked in a cool voice.
Dismayed, I dropped the sponge and turned around, gaping at him.
“Excuse me?” I demanded. “What’s the deal?”
He crossed his arms over his chest and inclined his head. The strands of his light brown hair fell over his forehead. “Yes. What’s the deal? You hardly want me touching you anymore. You sleep all the time. You don’t want to go back to school.”
“My parents died a month ago!” I said, the words hot and fierce. “I saw my father’s body, Wylie, and if you care to remember, he didn’t look remotely human. He died trying to save my mother. They’re both gone. The bookstore is gone. Everything I’ve known my whole
life is just…gone.”
His face was carefully blank. “I told you it was a bad idea to see him.”
I had to give him credit. He tried to say it in a gentle voice, but it still grated on my nerves.
“That’s not the point!” I shouted.
He flinched as my voice bounced off the walls. I was a nice girl, a good girl. Raising my voice was something I just didn’t do.
But I was angry. That anger had been burning in me for a while. Maybe I shouldn’t take it out on Wylie. I wasn’t angry at him.
He asked what the problem was…
Okay. That was wrong. I was angry at him.
“I know your life has been flipped upside down,” he said, trying again. “But you could have kept the house. You still can. Maybe that’s what you should do. Move back into the house…hell, go ahead and take the rest of the year off from school. You can live on campus during the school year and travel back here on the weekends…” He shrugged and tugged at the sleeves of his suit jacket. He’d been wearing suits to class almost every day since he’d accepted the temporary position. I thought they made him look stuffy, but I hadn’t told him. Yet. “Maybe I’ll be asked to stay on at Northeastern. You can take some time and adjust. Breathe.”
“Thanks for your permission,” I snapped.
His head jerked back like I’d slapped him, his cheeks going a dull shade of red. “Why are you being so difficult? I know you’re hurting—”
“Then act like it.” I crossed my arms over my middle, but it did nothing to ease the ache there. “Learn to read the room, Wylie! Or at least learn to pay attention to me.” Tears burned, then spilled over. “Today was my mom’s birthday. I’ve had so many people ask me how I am or tell me that they’re thinking of me…and you come in here and want to make out.”
He opened and closed his mouth, looking everywhere but at me. Finally, he met my eye. “Tish, That’s not fair.”
“Why do I have to be fair right now?” I closed my hand into a fist and slammed it against my heart. “I hurt. All the time. And you hate it. When I’m crying, you act like you don’t see it, so I try not to do it around you, but I don’t have the energy for that today, and I definitely am not in the mood to fuck!”
“You’re never in the mood for that anymore,” he said stiffly. Wylie was good and nice too. He didn’t say things like that. Apparently, I wasn’t supposed to either. He was blushing.
I didn’t care.
“Because I’m hurting!”
“So you keep saying!” His temper snapped, and he shouted back. “I try to get you out of this place, and all you want to do is sit around and cry while watching sad movies on Netflix. Do you think that is helping?”
“Does your idea of helping consist of you nagging me about wasting time?”
“I…” He stared at me like I was a stranger.
Sometimes, I felt like a stranger, even to myself.
“I don’t even know who you are anymore,” he said. “It’s like you enjoy being miserable.”
That hurt. I hugged myself tighter. “I don’t like being miserable.” Clearing my throat, I swiped at the tears that had fallen. More fell to replace them. “But I’m not the woman I was before this happened. I’m not going to be her again. If that’s what you want…I guess it’s best if you just leave.”
“You aren’t even willing to try.”
Swallowing the knot, I looked away. “I’m not going to pretend I’m okay when I’m not, all so you feel better.”
He was quiet for a long, long moment.
Then, without saying anything, he turned and left. I heard the sharp snap of his dress shoes on the parquet floor before he hit the carpeted living room, then nothing until the front door opened…then closed.
Burying my face in my hands, I waited for the next bout of tears.
They didn’t come.
Seven
Sean
Cedric pretended not to notice the exchange as a guy I knew swapped the bag in his hand for cash. He didn’t bother counting it, and I didn’t bother checking the bag, just shoved it into the inner pocket of my jacket and went back to sipping on my beer.
Dominick, though, pinned me with a hard look. “If your family finds out that idiot is selling to you, they’ll hunt him down and cut his dick off.”
“Selling what?” I met his eyes over the rim of the beer and gave him an innocent look.
Dominick shook his head and grabbed his own bottle. “Don’t play dumb with me, Sean. You know what will happen. You saw it firsthand the last time.”
I curled my lip and looked away.
Declan must have been watching me. He’d shown up at the worst possible time, and I had no illusion that it had happened by accident. I’d just bought some weed. It wasn’t like I was snorting cocaine twenty-four/seven.
No sooner had the transaction been made than Declan and three of the men that worked for him came around the corner of the alley. Declan had gestured to the men, and they came up, surrounding me. One of them had deftly taken the marijuana while the others positioned themselves at my side.
Declan had squared off with the guy who’d been trying to slip away unnoticed.
“I thought the family had made it clear…nobody is to sell him any drugs, Brett.”
“He’s a big boy, Declan.” Brett’s voice had been full of bravado, but it melted as Declan moved closer.
I’d intervened, but that was the only reason Brett hadn’t gotten his ass kicked.
Now the guy saw me and went the other direction.
Bit by bit, my family was cutting away at the net I’d built for myself, and it was pointless.
I smoked some marijuana now and then to help me sleep. It helped blunt the nightmares a little bit, especially if I had some booze to go with it, although I had to be careful just how much booze, otherwise I ended up sick as a dog. As long as I used caution between the two, I could sleep without seeing the car go up in flames—over and over.
None of my family could get that.
The nightmares still came all the time. It was November. Ten months had passed, and I could still hear that first, catastrophic boom, smell the acrid scent of smoke, feel the heat. There was still a dull ache in my chest, and it only got worse when I found myself lying in bed at night because I’d tried to pull Isabel’s face to mind, and although I could still remember that wide, wicked smile, other things were starting to go blurry.
Except for the fights.
Those were still vivid and sharp.
“Sean, you listening to me?”
I slanted a look over at Dominick. “You plan on telling Declan on me? Going to rat me out to my brother, Dom?”
“Hell, no.” His face twisted in a scowl, and I could see the truth in his eyes. He was being honest. “But that doesn’t mean they won’t find out.”
“Yeah, well, if they keep interfering, I’ll just move up to Canada or Colorado or someplace where I can just walk into a store and buy it legally. All I want to do is sleep at night.”
Dominick looked like he wanted to argue.
Cedrick reached out and punched Dominick lightly on the shoulder. “Let it go,” he advised before turning bright, sky-blue eyes on me. “My parents wanted to know if you’re planning anything for Thanksgiving.”
“My dad is having the family over.” I looked away.
I could feel his eyes on me anyway. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean you’re planning on being part of that family gathering, right?”
Cedric was too damn smart for his own good. He always had been. Sometimes, I wondered how we were even friends, but we had been since college.
My eyes landed on a pretty server, clad in one of the black-and-white referee-styled shirts all the staff at the sports bar wore. She half-bent over a table to listen to somebody talking to her, and my eyes landed on the round curve of her ass. Nice.
Cedric said my name, and I looked over at him. “What?”
“Man, you’ve been smoking a little too much weed.�
� He rolled his eyes, but the humor in them softened the insult. A little. “I asked you if you were going over to your dad’s or not.”
I hitched up a shrug. I hadn’t thought about it one way or the other. Personally, I didn’t much give a damn what I did from one day to the next. It was all about getting through each day then trying to make it through the nights anymore.
“I don’t know. Why?”
“Because my mother wants me to invite you over if you don’t have plans.”
Cedric’s mom was one of the sweetest people I’d ever met. She was the kind who took home stray cats and nursed injured birds and gave money and food to the homeless people she saw on the streets. “I don’t know if I want to subject Miss Patty to my toxic personality, Ced,” I told him before taking a long drink.
The cute blonde had crossed back into my line of sight, and I realized she was working the tables in our section. We’d been here almost an hour, and a redhead with an annoying habit of snapping gum had been our server. Either the redhead was on break or had left for the day.
Dominick finally noticed my preoccupation and glanced back, gaze landing on the blonde. He sized her up with the eye of a pro and looked back at me.
“Don’t waste your time.” He made a snorting sound. “She’s too smart to fall for any of your lines.”
Cedric spotted her next, and a grin spread across his face. “Oh, she looks like a sweetheart.”
I scowled at both of them and resisted the urge to tell Cedric that I’d seen her first.
Instead, I drained my bottle of beer and reached for the menu. Even though I wasn’t particularly hungry, I figured I might as well have a reason to have her coming back to the table in a relatively short amount of time.
It took almost ten minutes for her to make her way to our table. By the time she had, both Cedric and Dominic had decided they were in the mood for something to eat and had finished going through the menu.
She appeared at our table, giving me the first good look at her face—and her front. Every bit as good from this view.
