I was ready to rip the fucking buzzer out of the wall and throw it into the ocean, right along with my phone. After Mae had called a hundred times, and Rowe a few more, I’d had the sense to turn that off at least.
I shifted on the couch, trying to fit my too-big frame comfortably on the two-seater. Logically, I knew the couch beneath me was soft, but it grated at my skin like sandpaper. I’d tossed around on it for hours. Yet I did nothing to move to the bedroom and get some proper rest. The stomach-churning scent of alcohol wafted around me, either from the open bottle on the coffee table or just as likely, it was seeping out my pores.
Nothing like a good, old-fashioned bender to forget you shouldn’t exist.
I’d never been a big drinker, but I’d been enjoying finding some oblivion in the bottom of a bottle. I liked the way I didn’t have to think when alcohol was streaming through my system. The more I drank, the less I felt anything at all. Happiness, sadness, worry… None of it mattered. Being a flat line of nothing was nice. Easy.
But the incessant buzzing was impossible to sleep through, and I couldn’t silence that the same way I’d silenced my phone. I dragged myself off the couch and peered through the window and down at the ground level, blinking in the harsh morning sunlight.
Rowe, in his guard uniform, glanced up, but I knew he couldn’t see me. I was surprised he was here at all. Even from this distance, I could see the bruising around his eyes from where I’d hit him.
Guilt roared up, piercing through the waning alcohol barrier.
It never stayed away long. Guilt over hitting Rowe and then just leaving him in that cell with a concussion that could have killed him. Guilt over ruining Mae’s friendships. Guilt over getting Heath’s case wrong. Guilt that I existed at all because my grandfather was a piece of scum who attacked young girls.
That was the big thing. The stuff with Rowe and Heath and Mae I probably could have come back from, but not the rest. I’d first fallen for Mae while we were both sixteen. The same age my mother was when she’d been attacked. What if Mae and I had dated back then? I would have brought her to my house, introduced her to my grandfather… It would have just been history repeating itself all over. I’d idolized the man. I’d gone to Edgely Academy because he’d wanted it. I went to Yale because that’s where he’d gone. I’d worked my ass off at the practice, desperately trying to impress the only father figure I knew.
Rage and disgust filled me every time I thought about how I’d been conceived. Every time I thought about it, my mother’s face was replaced with Mae’s, and the thought of anyone hurting her was excruciating. Yet my mother had managed to love me anyway. Did she see him when she looked at me? How could she not? I was a walking, talking reminder of everything she’d endured.
The buzzing finally stopped, but it still blared in the back of my head like a siren. It was never going to stop. Now that I knew, there was no going back to who I’d been before.
I drained the last of a bottle of rum, needing it for what I knew I had to do next. Sweat broke out on the back of my neck, but I pulled on a shirt anyway, letting it cling to my clammy skin. I found my shoes by the front door and took my keys from the hook.
In the hallway, I hit the button for the elevator and closed my eyes, counting backward in my head to try to calm the racing of my heart. The doors opened with an ear-splitting ping, and I winced at the noise, wondering how I’d never noticed how loud it was. The elevator began its descent to the lobby floor, and I stumbled at the sudden movement, crashing into the mirrored wall, banging my hip on the handrail. “Goddammit.” I rubbed at the sore spot while my head swam. I couldn’t drive like this. Work would be expecting me, but I didn’t care about that either.
Out on the street, I tapped my pockets, searching for my phone, but came up empty-handed. I could have just gone back upstairs to call a cab, but I didn’t. The long walk into Saint View was both a punishment and a chance to get my head on straight. It took two hours, but each step brought clarity. The fresh air combined with forcing my muscles to work pushed out most of the alcohol toxins, and by the time I stood in front of the house my brother and his banger friends were occupying, I knew exactly what I needed to do.
“Hayden!” I bellowed, hitting the front door with a fist. The last time I’d been here was with Mae. I’d been worried for her then, surrounded by the group of criminals my brother had fallen in with. But I felt no such fear for myself. If this all went south, whatever they did to me would be no worse than what I wanted to do to myself.
The door opened, and my brother stood in the doorway. With his black baseball cap turned backward and low-slung jeans on his hips, it was the first time in years we’d dressed even remotely similar. His chest was covered in an array of colorful tattoos, most I’d never seen before.
“Well, this is unexpected. Where’s the suit? You look like shit, brother.”
I didn’t argue. I knew I did.
“I need something.”
He rested one shoulder on the doorjamb and crossed his arms over his chest. “I got no more info on Scythe or DeWitt. Told you everything I know last time you were here.”
“It’s not that.” I pulled in a deep breath. Until I got here, I wasn’t even sure I was really going to go through with it. But I had to. It was the only way to stop the black hole from opening up inside me and swallowing me whole.
“I need a gun.”
14
Mae
“I fucking hate seeing you like this. I swear, I’m gonna rip Liam’s balls off when he comes to his senses,” Heath muttered.
I shook my head. “I’m fine. Like you said, he’ll come around.” I busied myself putting out a few bits and pieces I’d bought at the store to make Rowe’s cabin feel more homey. A scent diffuser, a pot plant, and a big thick rug for the living area to start with.
Heath helped, shoving the camping chairs out of the way so I could unroll the rug.