I hate this. I hate itsomuch.
I despise not knowing what’s going on out there, in the prison…
Helplessness. It’s back, and now it’s worse.
“Cherry??” A crackling voice comes over the walkie in my hand, and I nearly jump out of my skin. “Cherry, do you copy?? What’s your twenty…? God fuck, Joy, tell me you’re okay…”
Tears well in my eyes, a wet chuckle bursting from my lips as I hold the walkie up to my face, wobbly and fighting hysterics. “I’m here, Lucky. I’m okay.”
Jasper smiles wide, eyes closing in a slow blink while he leans against the door.
“Fuck…” Velle breathes, and I snort, biting my lip. “Thank baby Jesus.”
“Are you okay?” I sniff. “And Rook??”
“He’s fine. We’re fine. He’s with me,” Velle says.
And then Rook rasps, “Here, Joyful. We’re fine, baby, don’t worry about us.”
I haveneverbeen flooded with such potent emotions. Even in our deepest moments, I’m not sure I’ve felt such a clawing love for them than right fucking now.
The fact that they’re mine, and I’m theirs. That we protect each other, we ride for each other, no matter what… It’s potent enough that I’m momentarily lightheaded.
But I push past it when Velle asks, “You in Oscar’s Attic?”
I grin. That’s the code name we gave to the old armory as our primary rendezvous point outside of the prison.
“Yea. With Jasper. Hancock’s outside… The crash shifted the foundation or something and we can’t get the door open.”
They’re silent for only a few seconds. “I’m gonna come get you, okay? Just hang tight.”
I hate feeling like such a girl, but I’m swooning and on the verge of tears. I just love them so damn much. These two men who would literally walk through Hell for me.
“Are you guys in the West?” I ask.
“Yea…” Velle murmurs. I can tell right away by his tone that something is going on. “We’ve got the armory.”
Jasper’s eyes widen, and we gape at each other.
“It’s time, Cherry Bomb. We’re doing it live.”
“Shit,” Jasper mumbles, tapping his knuckles on the door. “You hearing this, baby?”
“Hell yea,” Hancock gasps, and I can hear the tense grin in his voice.
“The fall was a sign…” Velle grunts. “Weare the fucking storm.”
There was a moment…
I remember it exactly, down to the subtlest of sensations. The blown pupils and tense muscles. The lack of words that even needed to be spoken. It was a look; one shared look between the three of us, and we knew.
There was a moment when we decided we were going to take this island back. And believe it or not, it was long before The Ivory started doing everything in his power to break us, and phase us out.
It was after Tammy’s funeral, after Velle laid his mother to rest, and took as much closure from that experience as he could for the moment. We’d acknowledged that we needed to go back, and for all the uncertainty and jealousy I felt in knowing I was willingly delivering the man I love to the man who’d abused and manipulated him for well over a decade, I was onboard with whatever Jonathan Chevelle wanted to do.
Because not only was I fully in love with him, but I trusted him with my life. And he was in charge.
Hewas. Not The Ivory.
