“How did you find out?” I ask.
“Grandpa… Jonathan told me. When I found Della dead.”
Christ, what a fucking blow. To find your sister dead only to discover she isn’t your sister, that your granddad isn’t your family. That you have no one left.
Like me…
But still that’s not all, is it? The unease in West’s eyes hasn’t faded, and it’s not the sorrow of his family’s loss, or the horror at what he unearthed. It’s something else, and this time when I get him alone, I’ll pry it out of him, somehow.
There’s no healing without lancing the wound—says the guy who turned into a pothead and has been on the run since forever, trying to avoid even thinking about his past. But I’m right about this, and if I can’t save myself, then at least I’ll save one of the guys I care for.
“Come on,” Nate says gruffly. “Let’s get some sleep. Not here, we won’t be able to catch any Zs. My bed.”
“Your bed isn’t any wider than mine,” Syd mutters.
I roll my eyes. “Dude.”
But we get up and drag West to his feet when he doesn’t make a move to follow. I let Nate haul him to his bedroom, and I take Syd’s hand, glancing at the small oval of her face, studying her.
“Still okay?” I ask her. I’ve fucked her. Twice. No idea why Nate decided I should be the one to go again. Not that I’m complaining.
She smiles at me, a sad smile. “Yeah.”
How do I wipe the sadness off their faces, wash it off them until their smiles turn happy? Ever since I walked into their lives, that has been my goal, even if I didn’t know it at first. It’s what’s kept me here. Their pain, their cracks, their faults, their struggle.
I never met people like them before. People like me, carrying so much darkness inside them, trying to move forward dragging the burden of their past behind them.
No wonder I stayed. No wonder I chucked caution to the wind and opened my mind to possibilities. I never thought I’d find a family, a home, so far from the start, in a place I never expected to find anything but a passage.
I sure never expected to feel things, to feel anything at all for these guys and this crazy, sexy girl.
Nate pushes West onto the bed, climbing after him, and I haul Sydney on West’s other side, molding my body to her back.
A tight fit? Please. We half-hang over the sides, but I don’t give a damn, not as long as I’m here, with them.
Nate turns off the light, and we curl around Weston, creating a cocoon of protection, a bubble where he can rest and feel secure, because man, after everything he’s been through, it’s the least we can do.
We can all heal, right? Together. We can create stability in this rocking world that is our life, right?
As sleep pulls me down, Sydney’s warm body pressed to mine, my hand resting on West’s hip, Nate’s hand just inches from mine, on West’s warm, flat stomach, I have a sense that maybe we can.
Sydney is saying goodbye to a blond, cute girl as I arrive at the ice cream shop where she works, not far from the school where she used to go. She’s Sydney’s bestie, Ginger or Gigi or something. Sydney has told me about her.
I’m lounging on the wall by the stairwell, doing my best to blend with the background—as much as a six-foot, tattooed guy with piercings in his face can. The shop owners aren’t too happy about me hanging around here. I bet they think I’m a bum. I’m itching to smoke, but my smoke signals would defeat the whole blending-in effort.
“Kash!” Sydney’s face breaks into a huge smile when she spots me and she runs to me and throws her arms around me. “You got my text. You’re here.”
I laugh and pick her up, whirling her around until she squeals. This is what I want, to see this light in her eyes, this smile splitting her face in two.
“Ready to go, Miss Carvajal?” I put her down and drag my knuckles down her smooth cheek, an answering grin on my face. “The limo is waiting.”
She snickers and takes my hand, turns to wave one last time to her friend, and tugs me away from the shop. “Thanks for picking me up,” she says. “Limo or not.”
I’m about to quip about limos being passé and tell her about an idea that came to me this morning about buying a motorcycle, but she glances over her shoulder and cold fear flits over her features.
Twisting around, I follow her gaze to a group of guys in muscle shirts and hoodies who’re eyeing us. They’re not dressed any different than I am, and the tattoos around their arms are too few compared to mine. But the hard looks on their faces, the annoyed glances they shoot me, tell me all I need to know.
“Who are they? Are they the guys from the school who used to bully you, Syd? That day, when I found you crying… was it them?”