I want out.
Chapter 20
Torren
I white-knuckle my bike as I speed back to the shop after that monstrosity of a speech. The October breeze does nothing to cool the flames radiating off my face.
The shop comes into view, the garage door already open. It’s well after opening, and Gabriel’s legs peek out from under a red Toyota. My wheels skid on the concrete slab, sending Gabriel sliding out and sitting up.
He cocks his head to the side, surveying my movements. The kid can read me like a book, and, from the way I’m throwing my helmet, tearing off my gloves, and whipping off my jacket, I’m sure he can see that I’m mad as hell.
“Busy today?” I ask as I stride toward the kitchenette. He shrugs and wiggles his flat hand, making a “so-so” gesture. “Can you handle things for a while?”
He shoots me a thumbs up, the wariness in his eyes never dissipating as he lies flat on the creeper and slides back under the red Toyota.
Once I’m in the kitchenette, I turn on the cold water and splash my face. My goal for the day was to make sure Felix isokay.
He’s not.
Not by a long shot.
And it’s all my fault.
All I know is that seeing the flat, sad look in his eyes, followed by his father using him for a photo op, nearly made me homicidal.
Again.
That’s not him. Felix always had life in his eyes. Even on the day when I pushed him away, he was crushed, but there was still a glint in his eyes that left me feeling good that he’d recover.
But that’s not what I saw today. I saw a man who looked lost. His eyes trailed over the bodies of people before him without really seeing them, like he was in a daze.
I pinch the bridge of my nose while filling a cup of water and chug it in one gulp.
You’re being an idiot, Torren.
Who the fuck do I think I am? I have no right to worry about his well-being when I’m the one who probably caused it.
He’s better off without me.
My stride is heavy as I walk to the little table and take a seat. TheBelmont Gazettesits on the table in its light green bag. Gabriel usually brings it in when he arrives, and I typically ignore it, but I don’t today.
I need a distraction.
The paper slides out of the bag, revealing Mayor Hargrove plastered on the front cover. I want to tear up the picture, but I notice Felix’s name in the subheading and read he’s interviewed in the story as well. I flip through the pages andnearly choke when I see a recent picture of Felix standing next to his father.
He’s smiling in the picture, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. In fact, it looks haunting. He’s not just sad; something else is happening to him.
I flip the page to find his interview and see another picture of him with his mother. He’s younger in it, and the two of them are basking in the warm glow of the sun, surrounded by flowers.
She’s beautiful.
The two of them have so much life in their eyes. They glow under the sunlight, a vision of beauty and love.
I force myself to read Felix’s part of the interview to learn more. Most of it is Belmont-specific, but the journalist does ask about Belinda Hargrove, and the shift in Felix’s tone is noticeable. It becomes lighter, wistful. He speaks about her with such warmth—far more generous than his father. He talks about the good things, the moments she was there for him. He’s adamant in this interview that she was a wonderful mom.
Soon, he’s asked about his dad, and the answers are short. A few sentences max. I can feel his emotional shift just from the words on the page.
I flip back to the previous picture of him and his father and gaze into those sad eyes.
