“Never seen you so underdressed, Officer Blake,” Crescent said, chewing a bite of sandwich.
I groaned. “I told you, Moon. I’m usually here in uniform or at least running gear. I look really out of place.”
“Wait.” Crescent leaned forward, his eyebrows forming a V as he stared at me. “Isn’t that your shirt, Moon?”
“Yeah, and what about it? Em stayed the night and needed something to wear.”
“And you say you’re just friends.”
“We are! Emerson is straight.”
“Is he?”
At that, they both looked at me head-on. “Unfortunately, I don’t know that I’m anything but. Never say never, though, you know?”
“What about the thing you said the other day? Before you went to Moon’s house?”
Moon looked between us curiously. “What thing?”
“Well, I jokingly said maybe he could be more than a friend to you, and he said he’d just be there for you in any way you need him to be.” Crescent was pointing at me with a carrot from his lunchbox. I’d never really liked carrots.
“So you took what he said and ran a mile with it, Cres. Leave the man alone. Actually, just keep your nose out of our friendship entirely. I don’t need him to be my boyfriend.”
“You haven’t dated in years. I think you should at least go out with somebody, even if it isn’t Emerson. I worry about my big brother being so alone.”
“Your big, lonely brother is about to replace that sandwich of yours with a knuckle one if you don’t shut up.”
I smiled to myself, thinking about how much Crescent reminded me of Olivia. “He has good intentions, Moon. Let it lie.”
Moon was still scowling at Crescent. “Be glad I love you, Crescent Miller. I love you so much that I’m willing to stay here and listen to this slander until your lunch is over.”
“I don’t think slander is really the right word here.”
“Emerson. If you say another word, I will slap you. Right here, right now.”
“Okay, brat. Sure.”
Crescent raised his hand like a student in a classroom. “Might I add that I’m very glad Emerson is calling you out on your shit?”
Once again, Moon was quick with his answer. “No. Fuck off.”
All I could think of was just how lucky I’d been to find a family like theirs—one I felt like I could fit into, if I was allowed. In my heart, there were three holes: one for Mom, one for Dad, and one for Harrison. Each of them was in a different chamber in my heart, consuming them entirely. The fourth one was free, waiting for someone to help fill it with love—platonic, familial, or otherwise.
I wondered if I had enough room for the entire Miller family, and if they’d let me become one of them. I wondered and hoped Moon would let me continue to be there for him, so that I could fill that piece of my heart up. So I could feel what big, unconditional love really felt like again.
As we all laughed together, sharing Crescent’s lunch break with him, I started to think maybe I was already feeling it.
Chapter Twelve
Looking down at my thighs,I realized just how much my skin missed the feeling of being sliced open. It burned with the need, tingled with the anticipation, and begged for the release. Peeling back layers and layers of myself was the only way to make all the bad stuff go away, turning me into something beautiful, like scoring artwork into a loaf of sourdough.
I hadn’t done it in a while. Like what I’d assume an addiction to be like, I’d grown to have a craving for it. A specific craving I wasn’t sure anyone else could quite understand. They’d probably say I was out of my mind, or even worse, try to get me help. As if I wasn’t totally beyond any type of help.
My hands begged to hold the razor, my thighs burned with the need to be ruined, and my blood begged to be let loose. Back in the day, they used bloodletting to rid all sorts of ailments—mental and physical. Maybe they had been onto something there, because I always felt a hundred pounds lighter from oozing a few inconsequential drops of blood. Cutting was my savior, overwhelming sadness being my attacker. It was a habit I’d once kicked, only to find again later in life.
A security blanket brought back from my teenage years, after life stopped being hard and suddenly became fucking unbearable. I couldn’t leave life. I’d tried. Oh, did I fucking try, but the universe thought it’d be fucking hilarious to keep me around, I guess.
The human condition of unabashed curiosity about death was almost shameful. I was riddled with it, poisoned down to the very marrow in my bones. Beneath the metal, glinting cages I was surrounded by, was a boy so curious, so cautious, so wanton of nothing but permanent peace. I was still that boy, and that boy was still me, but I couldn’t give him what he wanted. Not without ruining my family’s lives. Not without leaving behind so few memories and so little impact in the world.
