“So… thanks for that.”
I stare at him. “You’re thanking me for ruining your perfectly obedient life?”
Jace’s mouth twitches. “Something like that.”
The silence is heavy but it isn’t uncomfortable.
Finally, he nudges my knee lightly. “You feeling better?”
“Yeah.” I nod slowly.
His gaze searches my face one more time, making sure. Then he stands and offers me his hand. “Good.”
I slip my hand into his. He pulls me to my feet but doesn’t let go right away.
“Next time,” he says quietly, “you don’t have to pretend you’re fine.” His eyes hold mine.“You’ve got people now.”
His grip tightens slightly. “Me included.”
And something warm settles in my chest that has nothing to do with the cold night air.
8 COPING MECHANISMS
Luca
I’ve curated an image so that when people look at me, all they see are the jokes, the smile, the charm. I’m easy-going, amenable, just coasting through life happily. Nothing gets to me.
Luca Silvain, chronically unbothered.
I let most people keep that image of me, even play into it. ‘Cause making others think I’m happy is what I’m good at. Most days, I wonder if I actually remember what happy is supposed to feel like.
I could do the route to the overlook blindfolded at this point and could still probably hit every fallen tree and trail sign on the way with my daggers. I don’t remember most of the ride.
The bike eats up the road, engine roaring loud, drowning out my thoughts.
Which is the point.
The wind tears past, clawing at me, forcing my focus in a way nothing else can. No thoughts. No voices. Just speed. Control. Adrenaline.
Except it doesn’t last. It never does.
Tex bleeds into it anyway.
A flash, his laughter, leaning back like he had his whole life ahead of him. Like there wasn't a clock ticking down to the night Daniel stole him from us.
Then him, bleeding from the cut on his head, being held by two of Daniel’s men. Gunfire. His body hitting the ground.
I push the throttle harder,
The engine screams, the front of the bike lifting just slightly as I surge forward, The road curves and I lean into it.
I should’ve done something.Just taken the damn shot.
Anything would’ve been better thannothing.
The overlook comes into view too soon and not soon enough all at once. I pull off hard, gravel spitting beneath the tires as I skid to a stop. I kill the engine.
Silence crashes in.
