Rather than fight the damn tears, I let a few fall. “Yep. Just gimme another second.”
He tightens his grip on me. “You looked like you needed a hug.”
“I did.” I sniffle, admitting, “I really fucking did.”
And we embrace. In the middle of the fucking woods behind a gang compound. Two grown men with matching faces. Practically strangers. Yet closer than words can explain.
All we can do is hug.
When I finally release him, I do so while knowing it won’t be permanent. I won’t disappear from his life again.
I’m choosing to know him. To have my brother in my life. And to give him his brother in return.
He’ll never need to feel broken like me.
Well, broken like Iwasbefore Lila. And before a part of my soul found its way home.
I’ve got him back. I’m never letting go.
SIXTY-TWO
No risk climaxing
LILA
I don’t likethe termhero. It reminds me of comic books and superpowers.
Alternatively,saviorsounds religious. So that’s out.Championdoesn’t hit any better. Too sporty. Given my athleticism, I’ll pass. And I refuse to be called thevictor. We aren’t in District Thirteen.
With no other suitable options, I suppose you may continue referring to me by my given name.
Giggle.
Just joshin’ ya.
Let’s be real. At this point, I’m grateful nobody is calling me by an inmate number.
That said, I’d be a liar if I didn’t admit to getting a zing of pride each time I remember what a baddie I was. Kri would have been so proud.
The man formerly known as Jabali Campos is now a ghost. Not the fun type from Reed's condo. Calamari won't be haunting anyone. Any spirit he had inside him bled out on the floor of his rec room. There wasn't enough juice left in the tank to allow himany further contact with humanity. Not even in noncorporeal form.
As the expression goes, heeffed around and found out. And my little boob razor found his jugular.
Poetic justice, if you ask me. After all, he died in the exact spot he’d have stood to gleefully watch all the life leave Kenzie's body.
Obviously, Reed would have saved me.No doy. I'm glad he didn't need to make that choice, though.
It’s been three days, and I still haven’t fully processed what happened at the STK compound. It was terrifying; the stuff of nightmares. I can’t imagine living through something more horrific. But it was also oddly exhilarating. It was a strange combination of feeling powerlessandempowered.
I wasn’t the one with the gun, yet at times, I was in control of the situation.
Actually, that isn’t quite right. I still believe control is a myth. Rather than controlling the situation, I simply took charge of my reactions. In doing so, I found strength I never knew I had.
Go me, right?
Reed breezes into his living room, looking edible. Baby blue dress shirt, immaculately pressed and tucked into dark gray slacks. His necktie is a navy print, coordinating with his belt.
My mouth doesn’t water. It froths.
