Then Gwen took my hands in hers, said, “I forgive you,” with tears in her eyes, and all was good and right in the world. Except I didn’t deserve her forgiveness, and that’s why I’ll do anything for Gwen Bliss.
“I should’ve told you about Braxton as soon as I saw you, but I didn’t want to ruin our day together.” Gwen’s words bring me back to the present.
Did I mention my friend is the sweetest, kindest, most considerate person I’ve come across? And that’s why I’m a horrible friend for being the bearer of bad news.
“I understand.” I reach for her hand and squeeze. “If he calls again, tell him he can’t come near me. Ty and Gage have a way of knowing.” I swear they have spies situated around Dumas and on campus. “They’ll hurt him, Gwen.” They carry their hatred for Braxton like a badge of honor, and nothing he says or does will change their minds. “I’m sorry.”
“He’ll want to spend time with me. Where I go, he’ll want to go with. I don’t want to have to choose between you and him.” Tears well up in Gwen’s eyes. Arie is quiet.
This is the shared messed-up part of our lives that continues to be the elephant in the room whenever Gwen talks about her brothers or I bring up my brother and his crew.
“I don’t want to miss out on spending our last year together, but I also miss him. He and I have always been close. He’s the exception to my ask.” She looks from me to Arie. “Would’ve been the exception had he not gone to prison, through no fault of yours, Ever.” She squeezes my hand, then lets go. My chest aches. I don’t deserve her friendship.
“We’ll figure it out.” I hug her. “A lot can change in six weeks.”
And boy does it.
3
EVER
Live for me, Ever—Carlos’s words to me during two moments of life and death. I should’ve asked him for the same promise.
Instead, I’m left with an ache of regret in my chest whenever I think about our last time together. It’s been two years since his death. I should’ve said “I love you.” A kiss on the forehead with a soft “I’ll call soon” was what he’d left me with, only for me to find out on waking the next morning that he was gone.
Ty gave me the awful news. He’d come over, and I couldn’t understand why he’d made the two-hour drive to the rental I shared with Gage. They’d found Carlos’s body in an abandoned warehouse in East Alexandria with a gunshot wound through his back and out his chest. He’d died instantly. Ty knew I was close to Carlos, and he wanted me to hear it personally from him.
Brushing my fingers over the words tattooed in Spanish along my left side, concealed under my bandeau, I stare at the front door of Crimson nightclub from the safety of my car. My attention is torn between the line that stretches down the sidewalk and the couple making out beneath the parking lot lights kitty-corner to where I’m parked.
She’s lying on the hood of the guy’s expensive-looking car with her white-blonde hair spread out and her head bracketed by his muscular arms. One of her legs is hooked on his thigh, and the other is wrapped around his waist. Their kiss is passionate and all-consuming. Nothing exists for them except each other.
I’ve been kissed like that—thoroughly, completely, tenderly. In anger. With hurt in his voice and regret on his face. Carlos had kissed me like that and more. So much more. I look away from the couple and pour my attention on the line stretching from the front door.
Live for me, Ever.
Live for him. That’s what I’ll do tonight.
After doing a once-over of what I’m wearing, I exit my car and make my way across the lit-up parking lot to the traffic light and crosswalk. Traffic is heavy, and there’s a lot of foot traffic. I’m not the only lone woman out here, but I stay aware of my surroundings. I don’t want to get in trouble and alert Ty to my whereabouts before I can do what I came to Alexandria for.
While I wait at the traffic light to cross the street, I take in my surroundings.
Bright lights from the businesses that line the sidewalk remind me of when Carlos surprised me with strung-up lights and a trail of rose petals leading to my gift for my eighteenth birthday. I inhale, and there’s a lingering hint of jasmine in the air. Large, blooming jasmine grew on a trellis outside Carlos’s bedroom window. To wake up in his arms was heaven.
The flashing red “stop” changes to a white “walk,” and I blink away the memories. They come out of nowhere, and I’m grateful for them, though my chest aches. I hurry across the street and get in line. The women look down their noses at me and snicker or roll their eyes. I shove my hands into my pants pockets and stare at the ground.
Getting looked at like I’m unworthy of the air they breathe and the space they take up would’ve never happened at Red Dahlia now or when Carlos owned it. Customers knew my brother and I were close with the owner and his sexy younger brother, José Santiago.
But it’s nice to eat humble pie every now and then, a reminder of where I came from—a housing development synonymous with loser trash.
The line takes forever to move. With each step closer to the entrance, I eye where my car is parked. It would be easy to cross the busy street, get in my car, and drive back to Dumas. Except Arie’s words pick up volume in my head.
Let’s make our last year count. Let’s throw caution to the wind and live fully.
Louder.
Whatever challenges come our way, we’ll face them head-on. Whatever trials and tribulations we face, we’ll say bring it.
Bring it.
