21
KERRI
He’s coming.
Or so he said.
I won’t believe it until Havoc is at my door.
Do I feel guilty for forcing him to come here knowing he hates Brighton? Not at all. I need him. I can’t do this without him. There’s no way I can watch my father die without Havoc at my side. I can’t be strong for my mother, Nate, and myself without borrowing from Havoc’s strength. He can hate me for it, that’s fine, but he can hate me after it’s over—if he doesn’t already. Especially since this is the second time I’ve interrupted his…work. I can only imagine what he’s doing to the Unholy who betrayed us. If it’s half as bad as what he did to George…
Those men deserve their suffering. My concern is Havoc losing what’s left of his soul administering this level of personal justice.
My fingers shake as they glide over my phone’s keyboard.
Me: 17 Katan Street 18416
I don’t add the city. It’s unnecessary, obviously.
Havoc doesn’t reply.
I didn’t expect him to. I rapid-send another text, this one with a six-digit keycode to our housing community.
Me: 121504. You’ll need this to access the front gate.
Then.
Me: Thank you
A moment later, he shocks me by replying.
Havoc: yw
Wow. Okay then. Not even anactualyou’re welcome. Havoc sent back texting shorthand.
Lying on the bed, supine, I set the phone aside and stare at the ceiling. I glare at the glittering paint I’d insisted on when I was a teenager. It’s ridiculous now. I should have repainted years ago, but it’s one of those things you see every day until you stop seeing it. Same as the pink walls and white carpet. And the polaroid photos that are still stuck to the mirror from my high school days. The tape yellowed with the corners peeling.
A hundred happy memories stare back at me from those silly photos. They’re memories I never wanted to fade as my friends and I went to different colleges and traveled different paths. Some of them are married now. Some have children. Others became lawyers, doctors, or CEOs. Power players who are already making their mark on the world.
Then there’s me.
An idiot who gave my heart to someone who doesn’t know how to accept it.
I loll my head to the right and snort out a bitter laugh at the framed picture resting on the ash-gray dresser across the room. Not that the details of the picture are visible from this distance. But honestly, I don’t need toseethem for the photo to mock me.
We took it at the end of senior year of college, with me surrounded by my group of friends. Faith’s got her arm around me. We’re laughing. They’re dramatically pointing at the blue sash they draped around me. The gold embroidered words read: Most Likely to Succeed.
Sure.
At complicating my stunted life.
I’m twenty-five. Until a month ago, I worked at my dad’s law firm, having done nothing with my college degree. I’m still living at home, and I’m in love with someone whose idea of a good time is finding inventive ways to torture a man. I can’t say we’re dating because I have no idea what we’re doing, butdatingisn’t it.
I still have the sash.
I should have used it as a ribbon to wrap my heart with when I handed it to Havoc like a gift.
22
