I sigh and sink my shoulders. “No, but I don’t want to tell you the rest because then you’re going to be all like, ‘See you’re totally obsessed with me,’ and I can’t deal with that at the moment.”
“I’ll be sure to tell you later.”
“This is the one decision I made where you were an itty-bitty factor, when I made it.” One deep inhale and I say, “If you ever wanted closure with your dad or whatever, I didn’t want to be the reason that couldn’t happen.”
He ices over. “I don’t.”
“You never have to, not for me, or your family or him. It’s an option if the whim strikes you.”
He steps forward, his eyes burning with something else. Not the confusion or rage that he once had. His hands press against my cheeks, and he kisses me, hard. It’s like every emotion he has felt since we were kids comes out at this moment. It’s freeing and confining at the same time. Sad, and joyful. There’s a sense that we have a future, and a lingering of forgiveness.
“Thank you for everything,” he whispers.
“You’re welcome.”
“Do you need anything?” His hands drop to my shoulders, and I shake my head ‘no.’ He gives me one more quick kiss on the forehead before walking upstairs.
The only thing I need is for everyone to be okay.
CHAPTER 36
Grae
Day 13
She came to bed around 3 a.m., mumbling something that everyone was accounted for and in a secure location. I drifted in and out of sleep, my brain filling with nightmares about my family and friends on the run—being taken, killed, and tossed away. The haunting, disembodied, eyeless face of my mother and my sister, jawless with her neck at an unholy ninety-degree angle, left me with chills and nausea when I woke up. My father was left untouched.
God, is there anything she didn’t do for me while we were apart? She kept everyone I care about alive, happy, and healthy to the best of her ability. I owe her my life—and theirs.
My phone is still able to get messages, when I figured signals would be blocked somehow in a safe house. I look down at my screen and see the message.
Unknown: We have CJ. Come alone.
Torn between a past lover and the love of my life, the answer should be obvious. Stay here. But I spent so much of my adult life running toward him, protecting him, supplying him with whatever he needed, that it feels wrong not to do it now. Not wrong exactly, but… unfinished. I get out of bed and get dressed as quietly as possible. Her hair was spread over the pillow, and she’s lulled in peaceful sleep. When she wakes, she’ll be alone. She’ll think I ran.
I scribble a note: ‘You’ve been the savior long enough. It’s my turn.’ But I crumble that and drop it in the trash. Instead, I leave, ‘Getting coffee. Be back soon,’ on the counter. Better that she thinks I’m stupid instead of the truth—an ill-equipped man with a hero complex.
The security system is still running, but there’s a keypad by the door. All right, time to dissect Alana’s thought process. It’s going to be a number. A date. The code is going to be obscure—something only she would think of. Something from her old life. Something Lance or Thiago, or even Lena wouldn’t know.
Something about me. I huff out a quiet laugh. She’s totally obsessed with me. It won’t be my birthday. That’s too obvious. Too traceable. I type in the date of our first kiss. The buttons have a soft, satisfying feel that most keypads lack. I press the final number and there’s a second of hesitation. Am I really that important to her that she would set such an arbitrary day as her security code?
The lock clicks open. Now I feel worse. I’m betraying her trust—all for CJ.
The city streets are quiet. It’s only a ten-minute walk to the pinned location. It’s a café where we used to eat brunch every Sunday. It was busy and bright. Sometimes drag queens would serve and entertain. It was the place I told him I was in love with him so many years ago. But now there’s no aroma of cheese and eggs frying, no heavy bass beats or clicking of heels on the floor. It’s dark and silent.
CJ sits in the last booth before the kitchen, his back to the door. I feel eyes on me, but I can’t see anyone. Danger, danger, danger. Every instinct I have is screaming at me as I step inside the café. Red flags everywhere. This is a trap.
I’m walking into it anyway.
For a split second, I think about Alana—about how furious she’ll be if this goes wrong. About how I’m putting her in danger just by being here. But I can’t stop now.
“I knew you would come,” he says.
“We’re all in a lot of danger right now,” I say. “I don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into, but I’m pretty sure your drug dealer is dead.”
“I know.” His lower lip quivers. “I’ve hated her for so long, and that’s a feeling that’s hard to lose overnight.”
My stomach drops, but I grip my phone in my right hand. “What did you do?”
