“She’s still looking for you,” I confess.
Fuck.
What am I doing here?
Chapter Twenty-Three
BRUNO
He’s lying to me; I know he is.
I’ve known him since he was born, and I know he’s fucking lying to me!
I can’t take it anymore.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, shit, okay…Chill.
He’s lying, I know, but he’s family, so he has to have a good damn reason, because he probably knows I know. Yes.He knows. Then there’s a hint about the reason within the lie. I need to find that reason.
I need to do it fast, though.
I don’t know how I thought breathing, walking or living without Sarah would be possible. Years go by and the wound is still fresh, the pain is still fucking unbearable. Fuck, I miss her. I miss her skin, her ocean eyes… Then it hits me. It isn’t a thought but a belief – one I didn’t think I still had but it came back to me as soon as I found out there was a possibility Dante is still alive. That’s a pretty strong motivator, if you ask me.
To be completely honest with myself, I reacted faster than I thought. Next thing I knew, I was on my way to this scorched corner of the Earth. The longer I stay away, the bigger the anguish I feel, but also the greater the love I have for her. It’s all over me, every fiber in my body agrees with me, and in every second that goes by I can’t help but wonder… What is she doing? Is she having a normal life, back in society? Does she have new friends? A boyfriend?
I am always angry when I think about the latter. Especially because I don’t know for certain, and yet I wannaripthis imaginary dude’s heart out.
Fuck, I’m out of control.
Night after night I find myself dialing her number on my phone, only to erase it and call Carter instead.
I can never call her. What will I say if I ever do?
It doesn’t matter now. I need to focus on this phone call.
“She is, isn’t she? Please make sure she never finds a string to pull from that would lead her to me.”
“You know, I’ve got it covered,” he replies quickly, yet there’s still something wrong with his tone.
“Thanks, Cuz.”
“You bet.”
I pause for a second because I realize I’ve never asked how he is doing. What kind of cousin am I?
The shitty kind, that’s what I am.
“Carter? How areyoudoing?”
“You know I’m okay, you don’t have to ask,” he says eloquently. “You better hit the bunk and sleep the drunk off. You know it’s making you overthink a lot lately, and these kind of questions creep me out.”
I laugh. “Why?”
“Because when you were around here you never asked–”
“But I should have,” I say.
“No, you didn’t. You showed with your actions. This… I don’t like how this feels. Go to sleep. Be safe and bring him back.”
