Bad Wolf

by Jo Raven

  “They did that to you?” Kaden crowds me, staring at the shiner on my jaw. “Is that why you’re limping?”

  And here I thought my knee was doing good today. “Nah, that’s an old thing.”

  “Okay. You’re not going back to that place,” Matt says. “No way. Do you hear me?”

  He looks quite older than me. He has to be in his early thirties, and he has an air of authority about him, and strength that reminds me of Connor.

  “I’m not going back,” I say.

  “Awesome.” Suddenly he grins and pats me on the back, making me choke.

  “Does that mean…?”

  “It means you should quit smoking,” he tells me gruffly. “It’s the devil. Bad if you wanna start a family. You want to grow old with your kids.”

  I almost choke again. “Start a family?”

  “With Gigi. Think I haven’t seen how you look at her? Come walk with me.”

  “Don’t bury his body in the woods without telling me!” Kaden calls after us as Matt steers me out of the office with an arm over my shoulders.

  So not fucking funny.

  “You can start today,” Matt tells me, leading me through a second bay and out the back of the shop to a small yard. “But first I want you to tell me about yourself.”

  Dammit. I managed to evade most of Gigi’s questions, I think, but this guy doesn’t look like he’ll give any quarter. “I finished school, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “What about a record? Got one?”

  I consider lying, then remember I can’t. That these are good people, Gigi’s people. That I’m done with lying. “I had one. Shoplifting. Damaging of public property. It’s from when I was a kid. I spent some months in juvie, too.” I draw a shallow breath. “Record’s sealed now.”

  “Your parents?”

  I shrug. “Dead.”

  “And then you were adopted?”

  “I was. A cop adopted me, by the name of Connor Fenris. He died, too.”

  “Damn.” He says it with feeling, and I glance up, curious. “That blows, man. But Gigi says a family adopted you here afterward?”

  “They never got around to it. The man died. She’s in a nursing home with advanced Alzheimer’s.” I look away, square my shoulders. “Is that a problem? I’m twenty, and my adult record is clear.”

  “Nah, that’s fine.” He rubs the back of his head. “Just… tough luck, man. I’m sorry.”

  I stop myself from shrugging again. “Shit happens.”

  He nods.

  Silence stretches.

  “There’s one last thing.” He’s eyeing me, his gaze thoughtful. “Merc tells me you’re in a gang. That true?”

  Fucking Merc. But yeah, no lying, right? “I am.”

  “That ain’t no good. Can’t have Gigi hanging out with someone who’ll put her in danger, and then break her heart anyway.”

  “I won’t. I won’t break her heart.”

  He sighs. “Jarett…”

  Can he stop me from seeing her, meeting her? He’s her family. I’m not. Would she listen to him?

  My heart is pounding, knocking about in my chest.

  “Look, I made a promise to look after my brother who is in that gang. But I’m done with that. I’m leaving the gang.” I take a breath. “Sir,” I add.

  Not sure why. That’s what I called Connor.

  He chuckles. “Now I definitely feel like her father. Look, I know bad shit happens to people. And promises are important. But Gigi is like my daughter, and no matter how nice you are, how you brought Gigi over when my wife was in labor, how you took care of her mom—and I appreciate all that, all right?—you’re not dating Gigi while you’re in that gang.”

  My fists clench. “I love her.”

  Something flickers in his dark gaze. “Good. That’s a start.”

  A start?

  “I’ve known Gigi for years,” he says. “She’s a happy person, but she doesn’t trust people. For some reason… she trusts you. If you change your ways, you can date her then.” And without giving me time to absorb that, he starts back toward the office. “Let me show you the files and what you have to do. It will be a long day.”

  A few days later, I’m still working in the small, stuffy office of the garage. Matt hasn’t said another word about the gang, or Gigi. Organizing the files, the receipts, the whole paperwork gives me a feeling of satisfaction. I like order. Makes me think I have control over my life.

  Always a mistake.

  But Matt seems pleased and nods every time he checks up on my work. At night, I stay with Gigi. I moved out of the apartment, put my few belongings in a suitcase and am standing now in Gigi’s room. I even have my toothbrush in the bathroom, and my shampoo.

  Her mom hasn’t said a thing about it. Neither has Merc or anyone else.

  I wonder what will happen when Matt finds out.

  Life is good right now. Damn good, the quiet days and nights blurring into one another. Matt’s kids from his ex-wife—who died, or so I understood from something Gigi said the other day—come visit, and they’re real nice kids, the girl all serious at first like a little princess, the boy a whirlwind. We played with their Lego set. Gigi sat pressed to my side, and everything was awesome.

  Another day Maggie’s boyfriend comes over to visit. Never seen Gigi’s mom blush that much. Got me worried for a sec. The guy’s older than her but seems like a gentleman, and held her hand all the time. I stuck around to make sure he ain’t no douchebag, but he seems okay. I’m so fucking happy for her.

  My mom seems to be getting worse. I’ve asked Matt to leave early today to visit her, as I haven’t seen her this week.

  I’ve also missed a few gang meetings. Seb called to yell at me for it, said I’d better get my ass there for the next one, and for the job that’s coming up. Been trying not to think too hard about that, to be honest. Because life’s sweet right now.

  I’m just waiting for the other shoe to drop, hoping against all hope it won’t.

  And then it does.

  It always does. Every fucking time.

  “Mom?” I’m sitting in front of her. She’s holding my hands.

  “Is that you? She smiles at me. “My son.”

  I shake my head. “No, no. I’m not Sebastian.”

  “Sebastian? No, of course not.” She chuckles drily. “I never thought you were.”

  She didn’t? “You’re always waiting for him.”

  “Not for him. For you, Jarett. Waiting for you to let me in. Waiting for you to call me Mom. To realize how much you mean to me.”

  I grip her hands tightly. “You’ve never said anything like that to me.”

  “Search your memory. Don’t you know?”

  “Know what?”

  “That you’re my sweet boy. You’re always in my heart, Jarett. Bruce and me, we loved you from the start. Don’t forget that. Don’t forget what I said. Remember.”

  Remember. She’s fading, turning to gray. Don’t forget.

  “Mom?” I come awake with a gasp, lying on my back in Gigi’s bed, her arm draped over my stomach. “Shit.”

  She blinks sleepy eyes at me. “You okay?”

  “Yeah.”

  It had felt so real. I swear I can still feel Mom’s hands in mine, I can still hear her voice.

  Remember.

  It’s a bittersweet feeling, and she’s right, I do remember. She asked me to call her Mom. She told me she believed in me. That I was her son, now, just like Sebastian.

  I’d pushed all that to the back of my mind when she fell sick. Remembering the good things I’d lost so quickly fucking hurt. But I remember now.

  “Jarett?” Gigi props her cheek on her hand to look down at me. “Something’s on your mind. Want to talk about it?”

  “It’s nothing. Go back to sleep.” I pull her close, kiss her sweet lips. “It’s still early.”

  She falls asleep on my chest, and I brush my fingers through her long hair, but can’t stop the dream from replaying o
ver and over in my mind until morning.

  Together with the warmth left behind by the dream, there’s a cold, bad feeling, too. I can’t shake it off as I get up and shower, then sit down to breakfast with Gigi and Merc, even though he makes us pancakes.

  He asks if I’m okay, and he and Gigi exchange long looks over my head.

  I can’t tell them anything. I don’t know what’s wrong. If anything’s wrong.

  Maybe I’m just not used to good dreams, good memories.

  I kiss Gigi goodbye and head to the garage to start my day. It’s quickly becoming a routine, a good one. Kaden comes in with coffee and checks the appointments of the day, then Matt, red-eyed and yawning from staying up half the night because of the baby, but beaming with happiness.

  And then I get the phone call. The one I got sometimes in my nightmares. I listen, and I put the phone down, not even sure I disconnected.

  Getting up, I leave the office, and the garage, without telling anyone.

  I can’t remember even how I get to the nursing home. But once I’m there, the reality slams back into me.

  Mom’s dead.

  She passed away quickly and suddenly, the doctor tells me. A heart attack in her sleep. A nurse found her during her rounds.

  I look at her where she’s laid out on the bed. She seems to be smiling.

  I rub a hand over my face and try Sebastian’s phone again. He needs to know.

  Does he even care? He hasn’t been in to see her in more than a year. Maybe he doesn’t give a shit.

  Or maybe he’s been hiding from the truth, not wanting to accept she’s sick.

  Was sick. It’s over now.

  Everything slips through my fingers like water, like sand. First my parents, then Connor, then her. You’d think I’d be used to it by now.

  But the pain is fresh and raw, and it fucking tears me up inside like a claw, cutting me open.

  Does that mean my promise to her is over? Is it broken?

  No, promises don’t work that way, do they?

  It wasn’t really a promise to her, but to myself. And I got it all wrong. Taking care of Seb doesn’t mean being in a gang with him. It means getting him to leave the gang, somehow. Getting him off the drugs and into rehab. I don’t know how, but I vow I’ll find a way.

  I’m changing my promise to a better one. One where both Seb and I come out of this alive.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Gigi

  Sydney is sitting at our favorite campus cafeteria, waiting for me, and I wave as I make my way toward her, grinning at her.

  She lifts her hand in greeting, but her smile is faint.

  I frown as I plunk my tray on the table and slide into the chair beside her. “Are you all right?”

  “Yeah.” But she won’t look at me and keeps stirring at her coffee.

  “You’re not very convincing. What’s wrong?” It’s hard to bring myself down from the high I’ve been riding for the past couple of weeks, ever since Jarett started coming over, ever since he opened up to me and made me so hopeful for the future. “Wait a minute… Does it have to do with your missing boy? Kash?”

  “It does.” The fact doesn’t escape me that she doesn’t deny he’s her boy this time. “I searched for him. You know I did. I asked everyone I could think of, went to every bar and every rave party and…” She lets the spoon drop inside her mug and wipes her hands on her pants. “And nothing. He could be in trouble, he could be dead—”

  She claps a hand over her mouth.

  “Oh God, Syd…” Reaching over awkwardly, I put my arms around her and hug her to me. “You will find him. I have a feeling that you will.” Unless that’s my good mood talking. “What do the other boys say?”

  She shakes her head against my shoulder. “They’ve been looking, too. But we won’t give up.” She pulls back. “We can’t.”

  Of course not, I think, looking into her bright eyes. Because she loves this Kash. And she also loves the other two.

  How will their story end? I want my best friend happy, but this all seems so complicated. Almost impossible.

  Then again, that’s how being with Jarett seems, too, and I’m not giving up on him. Why should she be any different?

  It’s during history class that I get a phone call from Matt. Worried something has happened to Octavia or the baby, I grab my phone and run out of the classroom.

  “Hey. Is everything okay?” I ask the moment I’m outside. “Matt!”

  “You tell me, is it?”

  I frown. “What do you mean? Are Tati and Bean all right?”

  “They’re fine. But your boyfriend up and left work some time ago without telling anyone. Know anything about that?”

  “What? You serious?” Jarett wouldn’t do that. He respects Matt and Kaden. He’s happy working there. “When?”

  “Probably an hour, hour and a half ago. Went in to ask him something and he wasn’t there, or anywhere in the garage. He hasn’t talked to you?”

  “No.” And now I’m worried. “I’ll call him.”

  “You do that. I tried his phone, but he won’t answer.”

  Crap. “On it. Talk to you later.”

  My fingers tremble as I search for Jarett’s number. He was acting weird early this morning when I woke up to find him staring at the ceiling. What could have kept him up?

  The call connects, and it rings and rings.

  No reply.

  Where could he be? He doesn’t have his apartment anymore. He could be with his gang, doing something bad, but he’d have let Matt know if he had to go.

  Right?

  There’s one more place he might be, and my gut tells me I may find him there.

  Grabbing my stuff from the classroom, pulling on my red jacket, I Uber over to the nursing home.

  “They have just taken her away,” a kind nurse tells me when I ask for the room of Becky Lowe. “I’m sorry.”

  “Taken her where?”

  “Oh my God, you don’t know? Are you family?”

  “No, I…” I grip the edge of the reception desk. “I’m a family friend. What happened?”

  “I’m sorry. Mrs. Lowe passed away this morning.”

  Passed away.

  Oh no. “Is Jarett here?”

  “Her son? He was with her.” She comes out from behind the desk to look down the hallway. “I didn’t see him go. He may be gathering her things in her room? It’s the third one down the hall.”

  Not wasting another second, nodding in thanks, I hurry over to the room and open the door.

  He’s there, sitting in a padded chair in front of the TV. A program is playing on mute. His hands are gripping the armrests, his head is bowed. I don’t think he’s watching the program, but whatever is playing in his mind’s eye.

  I walk over to him, kneel in front of him, and take his hands. “Jarett.”

  His head lifts slightly, his gaze unfocused. He looks from our hands to my face. His lips form my name.

  “I’m here. I heard about your mom. I’m so sorry.”

  He nods and grunts. He doesn’t seem be able to talk. His hands are cold in mine. I rub them, trying to warm them up.

  “I tried to call you, but you wouldn’t answer,” I say. “Matt tried as well. We were worried.”

  His breathing is shallow, quick, fast beats, like he’s been running. His face is pale. His eyes are dry.

  “Did you call Sebastian? Is he coming over?”

  He shakes his head slowly. Licks his lips. “He won’t answer the phone,” he rasps.

  “We’ll try him again later. Hey, come on. Let’s go. Nothing more you can do here. Your mom’s in a better place now. With the angels.”

  He sort of laughs, then chokes and coughs. “There are no angels.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “You’re the only fucking angel I know,” he says, and hauls me into his arms, buries his face in my neck and holds on tightly.

  My mom moves around the kitchen, her crutch thumping on the flo
or with every step. She has refused to stay seated. Her only compromise is allowing Merc or Jarett to carry her upstairs at night so she won’t strain her ankle too much.

  “This should warm you right up,” she says, placing two mugs of hot tea and a plate of homemade cookies on the table.

  “You shouldn’t be on that leg, Maggie,” Jarett tells her. He’s sitting there, pale and still, hair in his eyes.

  “I want to mother you,” my mom says. She loves mothering people, and that’s the truth, but even more Jarett, especially when he’s looking lost and sad like this.

  “I don’t need mothering,” he says faintly.

  “Nonsense. Everyone does.” Mom glances at me helplessly, but I don’t know what to do, either. “I’ll leave you kids alone now, Paul’s coming to pick me up. But give me a hug first.”

  She slings one arm around his shoulders, and he puts an arm around her waist, his face blank.

  That blankness scares me. I need to chase it away, make him acknowledge what he feels. Accept some comfort.

  “If you need anything,” Mom says, “call me. And Gigi, get some tea and cookies into this young man. He needs to eat.”

  Jarett doesn’t even blink.

  Mom hobbles out, and the doorbell rings a minute later. I hear the happiness in her voice, Paul’s deeper voice. Then they’re gone.

  I drag my chair closer to Jarett and put my arms around him. “Tell me about her.”

  “What?” he whispers. His deep voice still has that faint quality about it, as if he hasn’t been able to catch his breath all day.

  “About your mom. Tell me about her.”

  His body is stiff like a board where I’m holding him, his muscles strung tight with tension. He stares at me like he doesn’t understand my language.

  Then he wraps an arm around me and hauls me up and onto his lap. I hug him, and he props his chin on my shoulder. “She was great. Tried to make me fit in, but once a misfit, always a misfit, you know? She tried to get me to quit smoking, to avoid fighting. Told me to call her Mom, but I never did.”

  “She sounds great,” I say, muffled by his shoulder. “A good mom.”