“I can’t lower my voice, asshole. Why haven’t you told me that before? You…you played me. You used my connection with Dina, and you let me get close to Dina because you knew she was tied to the Crossbow family. Then, when you saw that Connor and I were getting close, you let it play out. You could’ve extracted me at any point, but you waited until I was really inside, where I wouldn’t have a choice but to say yes to spying on them. I have no way out. You’re the worst. Do you not see how hypocritical you are?”
“Now, wait a minute. I tried to get you out as soon as you reported the hospital incident. But the shift in the Crossbow family took precedence, and my boss said you could be an asset. He was right.” A pause, then: “Will you do it?”
“I don’t have a choice now, do I?”
Hanna’s monitor scrambles. She’s up in the crib, holding to the bar and bouncing on the mattress, cooing.
Dina pokes her head into our room. “I hear the baby. You guys want breakfast?”
“Steak and eggs,” my brother and I answer in unison. We’re going to need the energy for the long day ahead.
Chapter 28
Renne
Back when I interacted on social media, I would constantly hear people claim that no one can make you feel a certain way. That if you feel hurt or used, it’s because you allowed it. That narrative rarely helps anyone since it only adds guilt to the pain.
It makes me feel worse knowing I let someone use me and make me feel used. That narrative should stop. But I can’t make it stop any more than I could make this entire situation go away.
People who speak from a comfortable place, surrounded by the safety of family or money, speak differently from those who live their lives in the trenches. My contact made me feel like a used kitchen rag. A dirty one with holes.
It’s because I’m in the trenches. Here in my studio apparent. Sitting on my secondhand couch that smells like cigarettes, even though I don’t smoke.
I look around the small room, taking stock of all the things I’ve placed here and there to try to make this place look like home. The cinnamon candle reminds me of a warm ChristmasEve at my parents’ house. I was going to grow old in my hometown. I was going to be a head nurse.
A tear slides down my cheek. I wipe it away and exhale loudly. I don’t know what to do. I grab my phone and dial my dad.
He picks up on the second ring. “Hello.”
I remain silent.
“Hello?”
Still silent.
“Renne, is that you?”
I choke up and cover my mouth.
“We’re fine. Your mother and I. It’s the twelfth of the month, so she’s making beans today. My least favorite day, because you know how I don’t like her beans. She makes them anyway because you like them. She’s a creature of habit, is all.
“Your aunt called to tell us she bought a restaurant. I guess all the Morols will now work there. We congratulated her. They’re still doing construction on the highway. They’ve been working on that road for the past twenty years. No end in sight. We miss you.”
I hang up and curl up into a fetal position and cry.
It’s two in the afternoon.
I fell asleep.
Oh God, I’m such a mess. I pull out my phone and see that Dina called several times.
I call her back. “Dina, I’m so sorry about ditching you for lunch.”
“You better explain.”
“I stopped by my apartment to grab more diapers, and I fell asleep on the couch.”
“You poor thing. Are you coming now or later?”
