She drops back onto the couch, smiling again.
“My favorite Marvel movie of all time.”
???
Alexis
“I didn’t ask to be torn apart and put together over and over…”
Rocket’s voice breaks on the screen, and even though I’ve seen this scene a thousand times, something inside me fracturesright along with it. It hits deep, because when life tears you to pieces over and over at a young age, you learn to keep people at arm’s length.
“They used to call me trailer trash.”
I shrug, trying to play it off, but my throat tightens as tears prick my eyes, lingering stubbornly after Rocket’s outburst fades into the background.
“Give me their names and I’ll find them,” Dex says, a hint of a smirk tugging at his mouth.
A small laugh escapes me. “You going to hunt down ten twenty-three-year-old bullies?”
“Ten?”
“Yeah. Six football players and some of their girlfriends.” I lift a shoulder. “I survived.”
The words come out lighter than they feel.
Dex doesn’t respond right away.
The movie keeps playing, the low hum of it filling the space between us, but something has shifted. The air feels heavier now, quieter in a different way, like we’re both sitting with something unspoken.
Then…
“Mental.”
I turn toward him.
His eyes are still on the screen, jaw tight, something darker moving beneath the surface, like he’s not really seeing what’s playing anymore.
“What?” I ask softly.
“They used to call me mental.” His mouth twists slightly. “No matter how hard I tried to mask it, sometimes I couldn’t control my energy. Especially in high school. Hormones, anger… all of it.” He exhales through his nose. “They targeted us.”
“Us?”
“Me and Jude.” His gaze finally shifts to mine. “I let them talk as long as it was about me. I even wore the name like a badge. Figured if I owned it, it couldn’t hurt.” His voice hardens, rougher now. “But then they went after Jude.”
A pause.
“And I lost it.”
The words land heavier than he says them.
“My fists got them to shut up,” he continues, quieter now, like he’s remembering it instead of telling it. “I can still hear the crack of bone the first time I didn’t stop.” His jaw tightens. “After that, I found boxing. Then my first motorcycle.”
He leans back slightly, one hand dragging over his jaw.
“Adrenaline was like a drug. Boxing and riding helped me burn it off. Gave me some quiet up here.” He taps his temple once.
“And then I met Michael’s Legion when I was eighteen.” His mouth tightens again. “For the first time in my life, people didn’t want me to be less. They liked my impulsiveness. My anger. The things everyone else told me to hide.”
