‘Justicia en la vida. Justicia en la muerte’.
Justice in life. Justice in death—the maxim upheld by those entangled in his family’s “business”.
Seeing it there, forever marking his skin, it became clear how much deeper he’s gotten involved since we were involved. How much harder it would be for him to get out, if I thought it possible at all.
I decide not to speak on what he’s just shared about his uncle. It’ll only end in an argument, and I don’t have the energy. Instead, I lie still and quiet, trying to convince myself this nightmare of a life isn’t real.
Mike isn’t a raging alcoholic.
Mom didn’t run away and forget about me and Scar.
Hunter isn’t locked up.
Ricky isn’t headed down that same path.
And I didn’t just make even more of a mess of my life.
When will I wake up? When will the bad dream end?
“Not gonna happen.”
I’m startled when Ricky utters those three words, seeming to answer the question I hadn’t said out loud. Then, I realize he’s on a call.
“I understood the first time you said it, and I already told you, I’m not worried.”
Before I can catch the gist of what the conversation is about, it’s over.
“Paul again?” I ask.
There’s a long sigh before Ricky answers. “Who else?”
For a second, guilt sets in. After all, he dropped everything to be here with me. But then I remember what it is I pulled him away from, and I don’t feel so bad about it anymore. At least with him here, I know he’s safe.
The silence between us grows long, but it isn’t uncomfortable. It does, however, leave me curious about what’s been said online while I wasn’t glued to my phone these last few minutes.
Just before I give in and check…
“We haven’t talked about it,” Ricky says.
It only takes a second to know he’s referring to the video and everything that’s followed.
“There isn’t much to talk about. I went against my gut feeling, let my guard down, now I’m paying for it. Plain and simple,” I answer.
I see him staring up at the textured stucco above, expressionless.
“Last time it came up, you said you two weren’t involved. Guess you changed your mind.” His tone is stoic, but not at all judgmental.
There’s no clear-cut way to explain, but what I know for certain is that I screwed up. Royally. I should’ve been smarter, should’ve known better.
So, I draw a response from that place.
“West was a mistake waiting to happen, from day one. Now, I know what the universe was trying to protect me from, but stupid me didn’t listen.”
“You’re not stupid. We all do shit we wish we could take back.”
I feel him so hard on that one. Only, my list is filled with things that were easily avoidable had it not been for my inherited impulsivity.
Thanks, Mom.
“I can’t stop thinking about how I let him get inside my head,” I admit. “After everything he did, I still let him in.”
Just saying those words relights the fire within me. Not that it had gone out, but I had managed to mostly keep it in check.
I’d been West’s verbal punching bag for months, holding my tongue because I feared the aftermath I’d face if I pushed back too hard. Then, I somehow let him convince me he’s human, and that beneath all that broody alpha B.S. he has a heart.
So, so stupid.
“I want him to hurt. Like he hurt me.”
The sound of my voice has me uncomfortable, because I honestly don’t even know where that just came from. It’s like my emotions just took shape, became words, and then left my mouth.
I feel Ricky’s gaze land on me again and I’m breathing heavy. “You don’t mean that,” he says back.
Only, I do. I do mean that.
“He deserves it.”
“Never said he didn’t,” Ricky’s quick to counter. “You know I’m with you on that part. I’m just saying, revenge is a slippery slope. Trust me.”
Before, that would’ve mattered to me, but very little matters right now. I’ve never felt so violated, dirty. West did that.
Here come the tears again and I’m sick of crying. It doesn’t fix anything, but regardless, I can’t seem to stop.
Ricky stands and my gaze follows as he circles to the other side of my bed. Then, the mattress creaks and dips beneath his weight. The feel of his warmth against me a second later has my eyes falling closed from the familiarity of it. His heat burns away the loneliness just a little.
Always has.
“You’re better than him. Better than most of us,” he insists. “Dirty shit like revenge is more my style.”
I laugh at the joke and settle against him more when his arm slips around my waist.
“It’s never too late to learn new tricks,” I say back.
“Nah, you’re one of the good ones. Don’t let one asshole’s mistake change you.” He’s quiet and I feel the weight of his stare again. “Well … two assholes’ mistakes.”
I know he’s talking about himself, know he’s referring to how his lifestyle ultimately proved to be the death of us.
Without much thought going into the action, I place my hand on top of his, where it rests on my stomach.
“You always know what to say. Why is that?”
He chuckles softly and his breath moves strands of my hair across my neck, and then comes the spinetingling chill.
“Just saying what’s true,” he concludes.
I consider that, whether his words are true universally, or just from his perspective. I’ve never considered myself to be ‘one of the good ones’, mostly because I don’t exactly come from good stock.
An apple never falls far from the tree, right?
“Get some sleep,” he says quietly, easing my phone from where it’s locked in my fingers.
His weight covers me for a moment when he reaches across to place it on the nightstand and everything about him sends my mind into nostalgia overdrive. His scent, the feel of him.
We were good together once and I can’t make myself forget that, even with all the effort I’ve put forth.
He settles behind me again and I feel something I’ve lacked for a while now. Since Mom bailed, since Hunter was taken away.
Peace.
And … I missed this.
“Sleep,” he says again, just before yawning.
I lift my head when his arm replaces my pillow, and I already feel myself relaxing. Guess I needed this, needed him.
“Thank you for showing up,” I breathe against his skin. “Not many people do that for me.”
A soft kiss to the back of my shoulder comes before words, a declaration I would’ve known even if he never said it.
“I’ll always show up for you.”
Chapter 2
WEST
Something told me not to let Joss pick the music, but I fucking did it anyway. Should’ve gone with my gut.
When the hell did sad-girls-on-acoustic-guitars become a music genre, anyway? A montage of weak-ass breakup songs is the last thing I want to hear right now.
She’s been over at our place practically all day. After the bus brought us back to the school parking lot early this morning, she only went home long enough to drop off her things and check in with her parents. Then, half an hour later, security phoned to announce she was on her way up.