Never Gonna Tell

by Sarah M. Ross

  My foot slides off the gas and the car stops inches before the row dead ends into a concrete pillar. I hit something, hard. Nicky is no longer in front of me, but there’s blood splattered across the hood of the car.

  I whip around in a wild search. Several feet behind me, Nicky is an unmoving lump on the ground, his body mangled and bloodied. Oh my god, that wasn’t a speed bump. I ran Nicky over with the car. I can’t peel my eyes away from his mangled body, the image searing into my skull. He’s not moving, and judging by the awkward position of his head and the amount of blood spilling out underneath him, I don’t think he will be ever again. The human in me wants to get out and check on him, but my practical side begs me to keep running and don’t stop until I find help. For me, not him.

  That’s the side I listen to.

  With all the commotion, I lost track of Galloway and Soldevilla—and now they’re rounding a corner and heading toward me. I move the deployed airbag out of my way and step on the gas again. In my renewed panic, I forget momentarily that this is a stick shift. The car jumps and stalls.

  I press down on the clutch and turn the key but there’s no time to try again. The two men are only feet from me. I fumble with the door lock, but the men just run right past me. My eyes follow their path. They stop where Nicky is lying in the road, Soldevilla putting pressure on a wound near Nicky’s stomach while Galloway checks for a pulse.

  I start the car again—this time remembering the clutch. It’s not until I’ve wound down three levels of the parking garage that I allow myself to breathe. Two men wearing doctor’s coats with stethoscopes around their necks come out of an elevator as I near the bottom. I stop the car and jump out, flying into their arms.

  “Please, please help me.” My voice is shaking, and I can barely get the words out. I cling to the man in front of me, only now noticing that I’m getting blood all over his white coat. I have no idea where the blood is coming from. “You’ve got to help me. Please!”

  “Holy shit. Call for help!” The man eases me onto the ground, but I refuse to loosen my grip on him. “It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.”

  I bury my face into him as sobs rack my body, everything finally catching up to me.

  “What’s your name, darlin’? Where are you hurt?”

  I can’t bring myself to answer him. The image of the gun pointed between my eyes and Nicky’s contorted body plays on repeat in my head. I try to take a breath, but my chest is too tight. I can’t get any air.

  “She’s hyperventilating. Her pulse is through the roof.” He cups my face with his hands, pulling it up to his own, but my vision is too blurred from tears to really see him. “I need you to breathe now for me. Can you do that? Nice, slow breaths.”

  I can’t do that. I shake my head and bury my face once again, trying desperately to erase the picture looping in my mind. I fight for a breath, becoming lightheaded. I’m going to pass out, I think.

  “Where’s she bleeding from?”

  “She’s got a cut above her eye, but most of this seems to be from her chest. That airbag is deployed, so she may have broken a rib.” Someone pokes my side, and I scream out in pain.

  “Hang in there. We’re going to take care of you.”

  Strong arms lift me up, and I’m carried away. It’s the last thing I remember before everything fades.

  “YOU PROMISE I get to go home today? To my own bed? No more IV? No more nurses coming in at three in the morning and waking me up to ask me if I’m having trouble sleeping?” I wrap the cord to my headphones around my iPod, shoving them into my bag.

  Charlie chuckles, grabbing the bag from me as Dad takes my hand and carefully helps me into the wheelchair. After re-injuring my collapsed lung, any movement involving my diaphragm is insanely painful. Thank God for good pain meds. “Yes. You get to go home, but only on the condition that you continue on bed rest for at least a week.”

  I don’t even hesitate to agree. “Done. I’m not planning on leaving my bed again. Ever. It’s nothing but Netflix marathons and endless pizza for the next week. Maybe two.”

  Dad pouts. “Hey! I was going to make you some homemade soup. I found this great new recipe to try.”

  “NO!” Charlie and I exclaim at the same time.

  Dad rolls his eyes. “Fine, fine. I see how it is. But can I at least take some to Marco?”

  My chest tightens hearing his name. Ever since he was found, it’s been touch and go with him. He was only moved out of the intensive care unit last night and is finally out of serious condition, now listed at “stable.”

  “Can we stop by his room before we leave?” I ask.

  Dad rubs my shoulder. “Of course. I’d already planned on it. Mom’s at the nurses’ station signing the last of your discharge papers. I’ll drop you off and go tell your mom what’s happening.”

  Charlie holds the door as Daddy wheels me out. Marco was moved to the room next to mine last night. Apparently when the nurses allow you to get kidnapped from the ER, they’re pretty afraid of a lawsuit and will meet almost any request. Once my parents and Charlie left last night, I snuck into Marco’s room and carefully curled up with him in the bed all night. The nurses weren’t thrilled, but never said a word.

  Mom is still threatening to sue, but I told her not to bother. As long as Soldevilla and Galloway are behind bars—which they are and will be for a very, very long time—I don’t need anything else.

  The door to Marco’s room is shut, and I knock lightly before Dad opens it in case he’s sleeping.

  “I’ll give you guys some time alone,” Dad says, stopping the wheelchair at the door. “C’mon, Charlie. Let’s go order a pizza to pick up on the way home.”

  I smile. “Thanks.” I push open the door and enter slowly, but it’s not necessary. Marco’s awake, his eyes lighting up as he sees me.

  “Hey. So you’re finally getting out of here, huh?” Marco pushes a button, raising his bed into a sitting position. His bruises have almost faded, but he still has a yellowish tint to his skin. He coughs and winces slightly, still very sore. The doctors ended up having to remove his spleen and a portion of his liver, and he lost almost two pints of blood, requiring a transfusion. He’ll need to be monitored for a while, but doctors expect him to eventually make a full recovery.

  I wheel up to him and move to the chair next to him before grabbing his hand, entwining our fingers. “And you’ll be right behind me in just a few days.”

  He sighs. “Probably at least a week. Maybe more. They’re worried about my kidney functions now.”

  I lean into him, careful not to put too much pressure on my ribcage. “Well, I’ll be here every day, so it won’t be too bad.”

  He kisses the stitches on my forehead where my head slammed into the dashboard. “It’ll give me something to look forward to every day.”

  “Good.” I snuggle into him a bit more, trying to figure out how to bring up a difficult topic. “So your dad’s funeral is being arranged for next Saturday. My mom talked to the hospital staff, and they said you should be healed enough by then to attend, though depending on your test results, you may need to come back here right afterwards.”

  Marco swallows hard. I know he’s trying to be strong and not cry, but I don’t want him to bottle everything in. I squeeze his hand. “Your great aunt said we can use the restaurant for the wake after, and she’s helping me get in touch with your Grandpa Sal to inform him of all the arrangements.” I leave off the part where I’m trying to find his mother too, though I haven’t had any luck. When she ran all those years ago she changed her name, but not knowing what it is makes it very difficult to locate her. Which I guess was the point.

  “Are they having a funeral for Nicky, too?”

  Just hearing the name sends a shiver down my spine. “I don’t think anyone is mourning him, and certainly not losing sleep about not having a funeral.”

  He kisses my forehead. “Agreed. The world is a better place now that he’s no longer in it.”

&nb
sp; There’s a knock at the door before it squeaks open. Mom and Dad come in, followed by Charlie. The trio stands at the foot of Marco’s bed.

  “What about your cousins and stuff?” I shift, looking at my parents. “Are they going to be prosecuted, Mom?”

  Mom shoves her hands in her pockets. “We’re investigating now. Chances are everything will be blamed on Nicky, and because he’s not here to defend himself, charges won’t be brought.”

  “Even as accessories?” Charlie asks, sitting in the empty seat in the corner of the room.

  “Unless someone is willing to come forward as a witness, there’s very little proof of their involvement.”

  Marco shifts in his bed. “Trust me, they were involved, but only because they felt like they didn’t have much of a choice. Like me.” He swallows hard, clearing his throat before continuing. “They were indoctrinated into the lifestyle young and saw what happens when you defy Nicky firsthand.”

  “Is Hunter going to be okay with that? Without getting justice for his dad?”

  “He did. He got the ultimate justice when you killed Nicky.” Marco winces when he realized what he said. “I’m sorry, Reagan. I shouldn’t have…”

  A flash of Nicky’s body fills my mind, and though I try to shake it away, bile still rises in my throat, burning. I’ve had nightmares every night since. Horrible, awful nightmares. I promised Mom and Dad that I’d see a therapist about my trauma.

  I swallow. “It’s okay. I did kill him and I have to live with that. I took a life.” Tears threaten, and I blink repeatedly, trying to keep them at bay.

  This time it’s Marco who squeezes my hand in comfort, whispering in my ear. “You saved your life. That’s what you need to focus on. He would’ve killed you, so don’t you waste a single tear feeling bad for what you did. If I could have, I would have taken him out myself.”

  I nod and take a deep breath. “I know. I get that I didn’t have any other choice. It’s just hard…”

  The room is quiet for a minute, everyone afraid to say the wrong thing. Mom finally clears her throat. “Let’s get you home, sweetie, and let Marco rest. You can visit with him again tomorrow.”

  I sit up, my hand sliding out of his. “Tomorrow,” I promise him.

  Marco kisses my temple. “Tomorrow.”

  “CHAR? CAN YOU help zip me up?”

  “Only if you help me with this stupid tie!” he calls back.

  Chuckling, I poke my head in his room and watch him struggling with the black necktie. I fiddle with the silken fabric. “I can never remember. Is it two twists around and then you make a loop? Or loop it through first?”

  Charlie rolls his eyes at me. “You’re just as useless. I’ll get your dad to help.”

  I turn, sweeping my hair up off my neck so he can help zip up my dress. “Probably for the best.”

  “How’s Marco holding up? This has got to be so hard for him.”

  I slip a gold hoop earring into my ear. “He’s okay. Not great, but okay. He’s been staying with his aunt since he got discharged. She just keeps crying and stuffing him with food. I don’t want to push him to talk about it if he doesn’t want to, but I’m afraid he’s bottling it all up.”

  Charlie nods. “Give him time. He’ll open up when he’s ready. The best thing you can do is be there for him when he is.”

  There’s a knock at the front door before Mom calls up to us. “Guys? Kally is here. Are you ready to go?”

  “Almost!” I call back, scrounging through my closet to find my shoes. I own exactly one pair of high heels, and have only worn them one other time when I was a bridesmaid at my cousin’s wedding two years ago. I’m dreading putting them on, knowing how bad they pinch my toes, but it’s for Marco. He’s never seen me look so girly, and today is going to be very hard on him so maybe my dolled-up look will put a smile on his face.

  I find the shoes and slip them on, ignoring the pain they’re already giving me. I’d rather have a collapsed lung. Whoever made these stupid things needs a swift kick in the butt.

  Marco is waiting at the bottom of the stairs for me, looking practically edible in his navy-blue suit. His eyes widen seeing me, his mouth dropping a bit as he sucks in a breath. Charlie chuckles behind me, whispering, “Oh, he’s got it baaad.”

  I ignore him, my eyes never leaving Marco’s—who’s not the only one who’s got it bad. If we weren’t surrounded by my family about to attend the funeral for his father, I’d show him just how bad I’ve got it for him.

  He takes my hand as I reach the bottom stair. “You look absolutely amazing.”

  My smile stretches from ear to ear. “You’re not so bad yourself. I almost tripped down the stairs because I couldn’t take my eyes off of you.”

  Kally clucks her tongue. “Okay, you two. You can coo over how much you can’t get enough of the other in the car. We need to go or we’re going to be late.”

  The drive to the funeral home is mostly silent, everyone reflecting on his or her own thoughts. I keep my focus on Marco, unable to imagine how hard this day is for him. As we pull up to the funeral home, I’m surprised to see how many cars are out front. Word had gotten out about our saga and spread like wildfire through school according to Charlie, who’s back for good, but I never expected so many people—people who a few weeks ago would walk a mile the long way to avoid Marco in the hallways—now turn up to pay their respects to his father.

  As we make our way to the entrance, Riley Bennett is the first to break ranks and sidle her way up to us. “Hey, Marco. I was just so sorry to hear about your dad. I can’t imagine how you must be feeling.” She reaches out her hand and rubs his arm. My eyes narrow and I grind my teeth. I mean, we’re holding hands, for crying out loud. Can’t she see that? “Anyway, if there’s ever anything I can do, you can always call me. I know you might need a distraction from all this, ya know.”

  Okay, that’s it. I’m about to make it a double funeral if that skank doesn’t back off right now. I step forward, but Marco beats me to it. “I’m pretty sure Reagan here will be keeping me occupied and distracting me every night. Sometimes more than once a night.” He leans into her, lowering his voice a little. “She’s very, very good at distractions.”

  I simultaneously want to puff up my chest and run and hide from the people who are now staring at me.

  Marco puts his arm around me. “Trust me, Riley, I’ll be too sated afterward to want any sloppy seconds from the likes of you. But thank you for your condolences. My father, who you never even met and I doubt even know his name, would have been happy to ogle over your tits that you keep trying to shove in my face. Be sure to lean down when you make your way to his coffin, okay?”

  Charlie chokes at Marco’s words, muttering under his breath. “Holy shit.”

  “You ready?” Marco turns to me, smiling.

  I can’t help but laugh at the outraged look on Riley’s face. “Absolutely, babe. Let’s go.”

  The funeral is small. Most of the kids from school fade away after Marco’s scene with Riley and don’t bother to come inside. We are just fine with that, not wanting to play their games today of all days anyway. One person who did stay to attend was Hunter, which surprised us all.

  He walks up and shakes Marco’s hand. “Hey, man. No matter what, we both lost our dads.”

  Marco looks stunned but returns Hunter’s handshake. “I can never begin to tell you how sorry I am about your dad. I swear to you, I did everything I could to try to stop what my uncle did, but…”

  Hunter shakes his head. “I know you weren’t responsible, and there wasn’t anything you could do really to prevent it. I talked to Charlie here, and he explained a lot. And my dad made some really bad choices that put him in those circumstances.”

  “Still,” Marco tries again. “If it weren’t—”

  “Don’t beat yourself up, man. Really. Trust me when I say you’re not to blame for the choices of your family. I know that more than most.”

  Marco looks as if a huge weigh
t has been lifted off him. “Thank you.”

  I don’t pay attention too much to the priest’s words, instead lost in my own thoughts, remembering what Frank did for me. Marco gets up and gives a very sweet eulogy, remembering camping trips and little league games. I’m glad he focused on a lot of good things about his dad instead of the bad.

  We are just about to head to his aunt’s restaurant when the door swings open, and a woman walks through, followed by Marco’s grandfather, Sal, who I met at the cabin. I’ve never seen the woman, but Marco looks so much like her, it’s not hard to guess. I turn and face him, gauging his reaction.

  “Mom?”

  The woman smiles softly. “Hi, baby boy.”

  “Are you … are you really here?”

  She takes a tentative step forward. “I am. Your grandpa found me and told me what happened. I got on the next flight. I’m so sorry about your dad. I know we’ve had our differences, but he wasn’t always such a bad man. And he loved you more than anything.”

  Tears are welling in Marco’s eyes. I’m not sure if it is her words about his dad or the fact that she’s here in the first place.

  She takes a deep breath. “I know you probably hate me for abandoning you, and I don’t blame you for that. You have every right to. I was selfish and regretted it instantly.” Tears are falling down her cheeks. “I tried to take you. To bring you with me. I even took you out of school early and had your bag all packed. But there were unforeseen obstacles. I had to leave right then. I couldn’t wait or Nicky,” she shudders. “It was my one shot to make it out alive. I only wish I could have taken you with me.” She pauses to wipe her tears. “I know it won’t erase what happened, but I never stopped loving you. Never. If you’ll let me, I’d love to try to explain.”