Oran
Icouldn’t fall asleep. I couldn’t get over this stupid fear that May would be gone when I woke up, so I wrapped my arm around her more firmly. She cuddled against my side, leg over my abdomen, hand on my chest, but she still wasn’t close enough for me. The television mounted on the wall opposite the head of my bed spewed out color and low noise, but a hurricane could’ve been coming through, and May probably wouldn’t wake up.
Was that all there was? An apology and a gift and some rough sex—that was all that was needed to smooth over the crap that happened earlier?Disbelief clung to the roof of my mouth and soured my tongue, and I licked my teeth absently.
Aheartfeltapology.
Athoughtfulgift.
Meaningfulsex.
So, why did I feel like it just wasn’t enough? Why did I feel like May forgave me too easily? In fact, she not once said the words ‘I forgive you’, and she didn’t actually say she was okay when I asked. The troubling thoughts creased between my brows, and I inhaled deeply as I got sucked deeper and deeper down.If that’s not enough, I don’t know what is.
“I can feel you thinking.” May’s tired mumble made my cheek twitch, and that gross taste on my tongue intensified when she held me tighter. “What’s wrong, Oran?”
“Is this how easy it is, or am I just fooling myself?” Fiddling one of the clamps in my free palm, I frowned at the television as May nuzzled my chest.
“It’s that easy.” Grumbling lowly in acknowledgment, I set down the clamp to turn to May, and she moaned softly when I caressed her upper thigh. The strange sensation of weightlessness made breathing so easy, as if I had struggled with every inhale up until now. The laziness slowed my movements, and I wanted to savor this for as long as I could. Holding my breath, an airiness invaded my skull, but I wasn’t tired. Sleeping meant ignoring the incredible buxom body against me.
May was asleep again in seconds, and I clenched and released my jaw absently as my mind wandered. Despite Carlyle’s insistence, he grilled me about May, not the Italians. It took every ounce of integrity I had to keep my mouth shut. I only gave the shallowest of answers because I’d be damned if Carlyle was going to avoid apologizing himself. I wasn’t positive, but I couldn’t remember a time when he apologized, even when something was his fault.
He’d asked me if May knew about the Syndicate, but of course, she didn’t. He’d asked me if May knew about Kara, what really happened, but . . . she didn’t. He’d asked me if I was prepared to lie my way into old age to keep May with me, but I couldn’t answer.
May forgiving me for not standing up to my brother was one thing, but being what essentially amounted to a crime lord? She would leave me— there was absolutely no doubt in my mind of that.
My ships moved millions . . .billions . . .of dollars of illegal shit— guns, drugs, women, weapons of any and all kinds, from bombs to chemicals to whatever fucked up shit someone with enough money and time could think up.
“Maybe I do want out. I would get out for you, huh.” My murmur was met with a soft puff of her exhale, and I thought on that as an ache sprung up behind my eyes. The question plagued me, and it became hard to look at the television, so I stared at the ceiling.
I would break away if May gave me an ultimatum, but that would mean I’d have to tell her in the first place.
If she were smart, she wouldn’t give me that option.
My cell phone started to ring, and I rolled over to snatch it and silence the ringer as May groaned in protest. Carefully untangling myself from her, I swung my legs over the side of the bed and squinted at my phone. I could barely make out the bold, and I scoffed lightly at my terrible eyesight.
“Hello?” Standing up, I rounded the bed and grabbed my glasses before leaving the room, and I held my phone to my ear with shoulder on my way down the stairs. “It’s one a.m. What do you want?”
“Hey, Oran.” Pausing in surprise, I gripped the bannister as that voice I hadn’t actually heard myself filtered through the phone, and I sucked in a sharp breath.
“Mateo? Why are you calling at one a.m.? Is everything okay?” I mean, yeah, he was the baby of the family, and a little shit most of the time, but he was still my brother. Carlyle might see Mateo as less than useful than the bag holding garbage, though. I couldn’t exactly do anything about that, and he sniffled over the phone, like he was outside in the cold.
“I’m okay. I think. I just . . . I don’t know. I felt like calling.” Resuming my way down the stairs, I frowned as sadness stabbed my heart over and over again. Mateo wasn’t the same kid he’d been a year ago. I shuffled into the kitchen as an intense silence stretched between us. “Uh, so, are . . . are you available to . . . talk?”
“Yeah, Mateo, what’s up?” No one knew it, but I’d tried so damn hard to get Mateo to talk to me while we were both in New York. Mateo was just a kid, and what Carlyle forced him to do was barbaric even by Carlyle’s standards. Sure, Mateo had made a mistake, but going about it like that— I didn’t know how Mateo was still alive, frankly. Sitting on the sofa, I grabbed the Bluetooth device out of the little basket sitting on the glass and connected it to my phone.
Clasping my hands together, I propped my elbows on my knees as Mateo took a shuddering breath.
“I wish I didn’t think so much.” That fake-ass Spanish accent he tried to carry was absolutely gone, leaving only sadness and emptiness behind, and my nails dug in between my knuckles. “I don’t want to do this anymore, Oran. I hate New York City, and I hate Mandy, and I hate being alive.”
The thing was, his voice didn’t wobble. He didn’t sound like he was going to burst into tears or anything. Mateo just sounded sad— so, so very sad. I grimaced as he took a breath, but it didn’t shudder, and he sounded like he was smoking a cigarette judging by the big exhale.
“Dad offered me a way out. I’m going to take it. I’m gonna move somewhere where no one knows me and nothing happens, and I’ll be the neighborhood freak who never leaves his house.” I had a nagging feeling Mateo didn’t actually want a reply, so I covered my mouth as disgust glued my tongue to the roof. “I was never cut out for this, you know. But I had to do it because, well, I don’t know why I had to. I just couldn’t not. There was never another option, you know? It was easier to just go along with it. I was never expected to do anything but move out of the way, but ever since that bitch tricked me, Carlyle’s taken it upon himself to try to make me like him. Or even like you, Oran. I’m not like either of you.”
“Dad was in the city last week and we had a really long talk. I think, for once, he accepted that force wasn’t going to work. When he told me I could walk away, I think he really felt bad about how I turned out. I mean, I don’t even know if he’s capable, or if he’s just that good a liar, or if I’m just really bad at spotting a liar. It really doesn’t matter in the end, I guess.” Clenching my jaw, I ground my teeth at the self-depreciating laugh Mateo spewed out, and he started coughing violently. He wheezed and I wondered how much he smoked a day or if this was a one-off and he wasn’t used to it. “S-sorry, I’m outside and it’s cold.”
“That’s alright, Mateo.” A curious notion hit me hard— Mateo hadn’t said a single derogatory word this entire conversation. My brows furrowed as he cleared his throat roughly. “Mateo, you’re not a screw-up. You’re just a kid, and trust me, I know what it’s like to grow up in Carlyle’s shadow. He and Dad are the worst, but that does also mean you’re better than them. Granted, it’s not all that difficult.”
I fucking sucked at this pep talk shit, and Mateo chortled in my ear at my sad, sad attempt. Even his laugh was strange, wispy and tone-deaf, and I cupped my chin hard.
“Yeah, I’m gonna move somewhere where it’s nice all year ‘round. I was thinking Georgia. I was gonna plant a garden again. Dad always used to say that Mom loved gardens.” My heart twisted at that and I chuffed softly as the declaration knocked the air from my lungs. Mateo always had this fantasy about Mom, but I guess it was easy when Dad would tell him stories about her. She died before he was a year old, but she was so important to him. “I gotta go, Oran.”
“Yeah, okay. Call me anytime, Mateo.” I refused to hang up first, and Mateo stayed on the line for several seconds as I held my breath. Pulling the device from my ear, I clenched it tightly in my fist and exhaled a shaky breath. “God damnit.”
