Trust

“Shoot me, and they put you in jail and throw away the key,” I said. “You’ll be cuffed and locked up in a cell before John even comes to. And you’ll be out of his life. Forever.”

No matter how this turned out for me, John would live. He would be free. He would have time.

“There’s nothing here for you anymore,” I said. “And there never will be.”

Without a word, Dillon turned and staggered out of the house. The front door banging shut as he disappeared into the darkness.

Gone. Holy shit, he was gone.

Relief swamped me. Hope. I didn’t even realize tears were flowing down my face for a while. Panic had held the pain in check. With Dillon gone, the bullet wound in my side sang with agony. I’d been shot. Holy shit. Thankfully my brain kicked in. I needed a phone. But moving was out since I suddenly felt like I’d been hit by a truck.

“Think,” I ordered myself.

John’s back pocket. It was where he kept his cell. I crawled closer to him, feeling up his ass without any of the usual euphoria associated with the act.

“Edie . . .” he mumbled.

I held my face close to his, trying to smile but not quite managing. “It’s okay—I’m getting help.”

“My brother. Where is he?”

“He’s gone. Everything’s going to be all right.” God, I hoped it would be.

The cell’s screen was cracked, but it lit up. Blood smeared the screen and I held it to my ear, listening to the ringing. It didn’t take long. I squeezed my eyelids shut, gulping as the tears of pain and relief flowed.

“H-hello? We need help . . .”

“We had such a weird beginning, you and me.”

John glanced up from his textbook and smiled. “We’ve had a weird everything.”

“True.”

Christmas Eve and we were sitting at the dining table at my house, pretending to study. It was basically the only way to make Mom feel safe. After all, we couldn’t be getting into gunfights with drug addicts if we were studying. Surely.

It had taken her a while to calm down after the Dillon incident. I couldn’t really blame her. Almost having your child killed twice in one year seemed excessive, even to me. She’d tried to ban John from my life. There’d been tears and tantrums, and not only on my side. First she’d threatened me with Arizona, then with returning to my old school. Even Grandma flew out to yell at me, Mom, and anyone else who’d listen. Luckily, Matt put on the charm and calmed her down. Some of the time, at least.

For a month or so, John and I had only been allowed to see each other at school. But we’d waited her out. I had a newfound appreciation for having at least a little patience, and John had been understanding about the whole thing. After all, I had gotten shot. We were both alive, however, and he told me he wasn’t going anywhere without me.

There’d been no major internal injuries, thank God. Though there had been surgery to retrieve the bullet. Come summer, the scar wouldn’t stop me from wearing a bikini, and John’s broken nose gave him a kind of rough look that I liked. If anything, Dillon’s attack had only brought us closer. It was us against the world, forever and ever.

The local reporters used the same shitty old photo from last time when they reported on the attack, bless them. I continued to avoid any news or social media. Maybe I’d start new accounts next year, give being normal a chance once all of the crazy calmed down.

School had been a bit hysterical with the news for a while. Hang, Carrie, and Sophia had taken turns at the hospital with me, and then visiting me at home. Bringing me frequent updates and flowers from John. Mom had known better than to confiscate my phone, so he and I had been able to talk whenever we wanted. When I got back to school, he and Anders played bodyguard, making sure nobody jostled me or got in my face.

Eventually everything went back to the way it had been before. People still gave me curious looks in the hallways sometimes, but whatever.

Dillon had disappeared. The cops said it looked like John’s parents’ place had been cleaned out, abandoned. It might have been tough for John to accept for a while, but I hope his brother stayed gone. His mom had phoned me in tears, apologizing for her eldest son while thanking me for protecting her youngest. Both of his parents had been down while I’d been in the hospital and resting, so I didn’t get to meet them in person. We were thinking of maybe taking a road trip to visit them once school finished.

Meanwhile, our study date . . .

From over on the living room couch, Mom gave us a look. Matt’s arm was tight around her shoulders, a bridal magazine open in her lap. I waved and she gave me a small shake of the head before turning back to the Christmas special on TV. At least she didn’t glare at John. Maybe the time of year had softened her some, I don’t know. I’d turned eighteen a few weeks ago, and it seemed like she’d dialled down on the anger since then. It might have been due to John giving me a friendship ring. The platinum and diamond band had blown my mind and given Mom a mild panic attack. I secretly think John enjoyed that. He’d assured me he still had funds to pay for his landscape certification program and getting set up down in Berkley when the time came.

“How do you think it ends?” I asked, biting the end of a pen.

“How does it end?”

“Yeah.”

“You want us to break up?”

“No! Of course not.” I grabbed his hand, holding on tight. “I was just wondering.”

Heavy sigh. “You’re thinking spontaneous combustion or death by random chicken attack, aren’t you? That sort of thing?”

“Something like that. Though it would take a lot of chickens.” I frowned. “Of course we’ll die tragically, each reaching for the other.”

“Right.”

“While getting pecked to death.”

“Sounds fun.”

“Well, I don’t know about it being a good time. But it would certainly be dramatic.”

With a line between his brows, he shook his head. “Think we’ve had enough drama.”

I just smiled. For a while we sat in silence.

“I love you, you know?” he said.

I smiled. “I know. I love you too.”

“And it doesn’t end, Edie,” he answered eventually. “It keeps going. If we want it to.”