I couldn’t look at them. The guilt was overwhelming. I knew an argument could be made that I wasn’t Creighton. I couldn’t be held responsible for what he did, and yeah, maybe they would’ve gone to the fighting ring without me, and yeah, they would’ve gone to that diner, andyeah, those robbers wouldn’t have been stopped like they had, butthis still came down on me, somehow. Later when I would be thinking clearer, I’d figure it out. Right now, the regret and guilt were like acid inside of me.
I could barely see straight.
“Are we going to fucking talk about this?” Marshall started it out.
Awesome.
I took a big drag from my drink and let the whiskey replace the burn inside of me.
Levi got comfortable at the table, his arm draped over the back of his chair as he was half turned toward me. The rest were lined up just inside the room. Palma’s hands were folded over each other, pressed in front of her. Heath looked half blitzed. His hair was all askew. Marshall was pissed. His jawline was tight and clenched, and the look he was giving Levi was seething.
Levi clocked it, only grinning back at him. He winked. “This ain’t my act in the play. I’m background support right now.”
“Background support for who? You’re here forhim.” His gaze turned my way, still seething. “And speaking of, who is he, Blake?”
I took another drag of my whiskey. My hand was still shaking. Shit.
I didn’t want to lose them.
Sudden very real and clear regret ate at me. I hadn’t had enough time to spend with them. I hadn’t let them get to know me either, and that was suddenly all I wanted.
It was too late.
I needed to tell them what was what. I’d pack and go after that. I’d upended their lives enough.
“Living room,” I rasped out. I couldn’t look any of them in the eye. “Might as well get comfortable for this.”
Levi positioned himself in one of the corner chairs, an arm and leg draped over the side and back of his chair, his big body turned toward the group, also toward the front door. He’d made himself a drink before joining us, and he rattled his glass to me. He was keeping a lazyexpression on his face, but I knew it was an act. Catching my eyes, he lifted his glass, shooting me a look of support.
I tried giving him a tiny grin back, except my face was etched in rock.
Heath and Palma were on the couch.
Heath spread his legs out, and his head rested back on the couch. His eyes were closed. He looked as if he could fall asleep like that. Palma was in the opposite corner of the couch, a pillow clasped tightly on her lap. She was picking at the seams in a nervous movement. Marshall was just behind where Palma was sitting. His arms were crossed over his chest, and his scowl was directed right at me. He was going to remain standing. “Enough stalling. You need to clue us in to who the fuck you are and who the fuck that guy was.” He raked a hand through his hair, almost savagely. “We deserve that, don’t you think?”
Levi’s head lifted. His lazy expression disappeared. “Watch how you speak to her.”
“Or what?” Marshall’s head jerked in his direction.
“Or you’ll find out who we are in a whole different way. One where you might lose a few body parts.” Levi didn’t move, but the ice delivered with that threat was enough to have Marshall turning back toward me. Levi waited to see if he’d say anything more. When he didn’t, Levi resumed his lazy facade again, giving me a wink.
It was my turn.
My stomach filled with lead.
I didn’t give them the whole background story of Creighton and me, but I told them enough.
I met him in a foster home. Levi as well. We grew up together. The story of explaining Creighton and how he came to take over the streets and the city wasn’t my story to tell. I didn’t say anything about how Creighton had psychopathic tendencies, or how he tried to curb those so he didn’t hurt innocent people. I didn’t give them the long and sordid story of how Creighton’s easy ability to end people who hurt me dogged my every decision since I could remember.
“Growing up under Creighton’s shadow has been a lot. But he and I made an agreement. This was my chance to try and live a normal life, or as normal as a kid from foster care could get. Moving into this place with you guys, it’s been a dream. I couldn’t believe it. You’ve all been great. I know we’ve all been busy with our different courses and workload, but I’ve appreciated that you guys tried including me with your group. It’s just—getting to know people takes a while with me.” I was going to throw up. “I just want you to know that, and I’m sorry for anything that Creighton’s done or if you guys end up as collateral damage. I’m sorry again.”
I needed to go. Now.
The urge to flee was strong. I tried to restrain myself. Instead of running, I went upstairs with a brisk walk.
Hurt and panic and the ability to breathe was becoming increasingly hard. I pushed it all aside as I got to my room and started throwing things onto my bed. I upended everything in my closet. All my clothes. Shoes. My things for the bathroom. Grabbing some bags, I began blindly stuffing everything inside of them.
I was trying not to cry. I really was, but this one hurt more than the others. I didn’t know why, but dammit. Tears were breaking free, sliding down my face. I had a suitcase I could use for my books. I realized that I was leaving with four times the amount of stuff.
