“We could use the help.”
“What’s the plan?”
Getting to his feet, Zane says, “I’m going to take Lily back to her car.”
“Wait—” Leo holds out his hands, “—that’s it?”
“I told you I’d deal with it if you let me do it my way,” Zane informs him.
“I am letting you do it your way, but I still want to know what the plan is.”
“You will know when you need to.”
Tension creeps through the air.
Picking up the pizza box, Leo launches it across the room. It crashes against the wall, sauce and toppings flying everywhere. My heart rate accelerates. I don’t even realize I’ve gotten to my feet and put my back to the corner of the wall, hands outstretched in defense.
“It’s fine, Lily,” Zane assures me. I grit my teeth, mad the run-in today rattled me so badly. An outburst like Leo’s wouldn’t usually faze me, but I’m on edge, and it was so unexpected.
“You need to calm the fuck down and think for a second,” Zane warns his brother.
“I’m sorry, okay? Fuck knows what she’s being made to do down there while I’m sitting here eating pizza.” Leo paces.
“We’ll get her out, but we have to play smart. You’re no good to her dead—and that’s what we’ll both be if we fuck this up.”
“I know.” Leo rubs his hands down his face and turns to me. “I’m sorry, Lily. You don’t need to fear me.”
“I don’t fear anyone.” Lies. “I’ll be outside,” I inform Zane, pushing out of the room.
Fresh air bathes over my skin as I race down the porch steps. The orange and pink rays of the setting sun illuminate the sky, casting a warm hue through the trees.
I probably should have probed Jameson for more on these brothers before confiding in Zane and offering to help them, but this is the only way I’m ever going to rid of my demons. Ezekiel would do this for me, but he wouldn’t keep secrets from my sister, Ruby, and she would tell Jameson.
I can’t do that to them. Infecting them with that knowledge is cruel. It’s bad enough I have to live with it.
“You okay?” Zane asks, coming down the steps.
“Fine. What was that about?” I wave a hand back toward the house.
“He can be unpredictable, that’s why he can’t help me with this.”
“Do I get to know the plan?” I ask, rubbing my hands down my arms to ward off the chill dusk brings.
“I thought we could go over your job first, then go to the club tomorrow and see what we’re dealing with.” He gestures to the truck. “Hop in. I’ll take you back to your car. We can talk on the way.”
Opening the truck door, I heave myself inside, the stitches pulling a little. The drapes twitch upstairs movement shadowing the window. “Will he be okay with you gone?” I bite my lip, an unsettled pit opening in my stomach.
“He handled being on his own for a few years, I think he’ll be okay for a few hours.”
“Where were you in those years?” I swivel my head to look at him. The pit widens when he frowns, backing the truck out of the driveway.
“Doing some time in juvie and a small stint in prison.”
“Do I want to know what for?” I shift, pulling the seatbelt into place. Digging into his pocket, he pulls out his lighter and flicks it open and closed against his leg.
“I killed our dad.” He says it so casually, it takes a moment for the words to register. Wild horses gallop in my chest. My mouth goes dry. “He deserved it and more, trust me,” he adds.
“And you were caught?” I ask, curious.
He looks over at me, amusement lighting his eyes and tugging up his lips. “That’s your question?”
I shrug. “Yeah.”
Chuckling, he says, “I was young, and it was in front of my mom. She called the police.”
“She didn’t try to stop you from killing him?”
“There was nothing to stop. He came in drunk while we were carving pumpkins for the town contest. Leo had been looking forward to it so much, and Mom actually bought the pumpkins that year.” He shakes his head, a war raging on his face. “Dad came home early. I remember the burn of his breath on my skin.” He grips the wheel harder, making it creak under the stress. “Went ballistic over the mess and started wailing on Mom. The bruises from her last beating had barely been healed.”
My breath hitches, each word from his mouth a physical blow. Walking on eggshells, not knowing what will set the person off, enduring the beatings, the betrayal, the pain, not understanding how someone who’s supposed to love you can be so cruel…
I know that nightmare all too well.
“Then he turned on Leo. I never understood his hatred toward him until I got older.” He looks at me, lines marring his forehead and crinkling around his squinted eyes. “It was because he was different. He struck him, and Leo dropped, out cold. I thought he was dead.”
I reach out to steady the lighter lid clicking open and closed. Curling my fingers around his hand, I squeeze. His eyes drop to our contact, his breathing heavy. Slowing the truck, he pulls into Kirby’s. The bar lights dance over the hood in flashing blue.
“What happened next?” I ask, my tone soft.
Inhaling, he squeezes my hand back. “I took the knife we were using for carving, walked over the top of the table, and plunged it into his chest. One stab. The blade went in on an angle, straight through his ribcage into his heart.”
“You were protecting your family.” My head bobs up and down, conviction lacing my tone.
“My mother didn’t see it that way.”
“Fuck her. Why did the police press charges, how could a judge convict? You were protecting yourself and defending your mom and brother.”
“I was thirteen. I only got a couple years in juvie. I’d do a hundred years if it meant not watching my brother get beat on. Leo’s older than me. He always took the brunt of my dad’s wrath after Mom.”
“Did your mom ever try to leave?”
“Fuck no. She loved the son of a bitch and always made excuses for him.”
“Where is she now?”
“Lost her shit. She’s in and out of hospitals and rehabs.”
“You said you served prison time?”
“Caught that?” He smirks. “I did three years for carrying a firearm without a licence.”
“Harsh.” I fidget, thinking of the gun in the glove box of my car. No license for me either.
“Now that I’ve spilled my dirt, you want to spill yours?”
Giggles and raised voices carry from the bar as a group spills out into the parking lot.
“Maybe we should get a drink first?” I attempt to free my hand, but he doesn’t release me. His piercing blue eyes bore into mine for a few tense beats, and my insides flutter.
“Thanks for listening and not judging me.”
“I’d never judge you. You did what you had to do.” My voice lowers, emotion squeezing my throat. “So did I.”
“I won’t judge you either.” He nods, and I believe him.
Kindred spirit.