Chapter 32
West
The sun doesn’t rise for another hour and Haley’s alarm went off twenty minutes ago. She headed downstairs to get ready and I wait like a man on trial with the jury out for deliberation.
Outside, a new layer of icicles hangs from the eaves of the house. Last night was possibly one of the best nights of my life and as I slump onto the corner of the air mattress, I feel like shit.
Sillgo. I rake my hands through my hair, pulling at the roots. I swear that’s one of the companies Dad bought. I don’t pretend to know everything about Dad’s business, but he had a crap ton of documents on his desk with that name on the letterhead last year when I got called into his office for cutting class. My father—he did this to Haley and her family....
And I’m falling for her hard.
Haley already knows that my family does well financially, but she doesn’t know I’m a Young and I have to admit I like it. I like that Haley doesn’t see me as a meal ticket or act weird around me because my family is the equivalent to royalty in this town.
Even if she knew I was a Young, she probably wouldn’t know that the Youngs are the ones who bought Sillgo and shipped the jobs to Mexico. But keeping all this to myself? I’m lying to her. Before I drop that bomb, I need to be sure that my dad is the one that owns the company.
The door creaks open and Haley sends me a shy smile and I automatically smile back. Last night, the two of us said too much, felt too much, and I had somehow convinced myself that the moment we shared would remain that—a moment. But it didn’t; the emotions between us linger and I don’t know what that means.
Haley closes the door behind her and crosses the room to me. “I’ve got to go in a few minutes to catch the bus. John wants me there early to train.”
I stand, understanding she’s handing me an eviction notice. “Can I drive you?”
“No. Jax and Kaden are working out this morning, too, and I don’t want them to know that you stayed here, so do you mind...” Her eyes flicker to the window.
“Got it. I’ll head out.”
Haley smooths the hair trailing from her ponytail. “Last night...we...uh... I don’t think...”
Shit, she really is handing me an eviction notice and not just from her room.
“If we get involved,” Haley continues, “and then things don’t work out...it’ll make what’s going on between us complicated.”
“Right.” Complicated. “And it has nothing to do with the fact you don’t date fighters?”
She shrugs. “Maybe.”
I nod, getting it, yet not. Because the truth is, she’s too good for me; plus she’s right. We have an agreement and I need this shot at redemption. Reality—the truth of who I am would ruin us anyway, but I’m a selfish a*shole.
I step into Haley’s personal space and her breathing hitches when my body slides against hers. “How about we don’t overthink it and just see how this plays out.”
Haley licks her lips as if they’re dry and stares up at me from under dark eyelashes. Damn, she’s gorgeous.
Footsteps pound against the stairs and Haley pushes me into the shadows. She races across the attic and my heart beats hard at the thought of causing her trouble.
Haley grabs the door right as it opens and blocks the view of the room with her body. “Everything okay, Jax?”
“We’re heading out in five,” mumbles Jax.
A few more worthless words between them, then his footsteps retreat back down. I edge out of the shadows and Haley turns to me. “I’ll see you later. For training.”
“Don’t overthink this,” I tell her.
“I’ll think about it.”
I chuckle and Haley smiles while lowering her head, obviously figuring out the irony of her statement.
“Thanks for the place to crash, Haley.”
“You’re welcome.” Then she disappears down the stairs.
A few hours later, I loiter down the aisle of the grocery store, buying time until Denny opens the bar and I can earn money. It’s noon and I won’t train with Haley until the evening. I used to love Saturdays; now I hate free time.
Abby passes my aisle, then jerks back and heads in my direction. “Come with me.”
“Drug deal gone bad and you need protection?” Why else would she need me?
Her hazel eyes bore into mine. “It’s Rachel. She’s dying.”
* * *
I don’t wait on the elevator; instead I fly up the stairs. Two at a time. Three at a time. Whipping around the corners. Driving faster. Harder. The door bangs against the wall when I wrench it open. A heaviness in my chest causes my breath to come out in gasps. And it’s not from the running. It’s from the breaking.
My sister... She’s dying.
I round the corner, swing into my sister’s room and my heart tears out of my chest. “F*ck!” My hand covers my mouth as nausea climbs up my throat. I bend over to fight the dry heave. I don’t win. I never win. My body convulses. “F*ck!”
It’s not happening. It’s not. My fingers form a fist and slam into the wall. Pain slices through my fingers, floods into my wrist. It’s nothing like the pain ripping the skin from my bones. “F*ck!”
“What are you doing?” It’s a nurse. Smaller than me. Blue scrubs. I glance up and the entire hallway watches.
I point at the empty room. “Rachel...”
“Is down the hall.” She continues to talk, but I don’t give a f*ck. I run. Past her. Past others. Past the stares. Past the ICU. Past the waiting rooms. Everything on the periphery blurs. Looking, searching, and then I catch blond hair in a bed and I pause.
Blue eyes. A smile. “West!”
My heart is so out of control I’ve forgotten how to breathe. I stumble into the room, gulping in ragged breaths. “Rachel?”
My sister is up. She’s propped by a million pillows, but she’s up. And pale. Rachel was a small thing to begin with, but she’s lost weight. Scratches fragment her face like a web of broken glass. Her legs are bulky under the blanket.
“Oh, my God, you’re here!” Her smile grows and that smile has always been infectious, but instead of grinning back like I normally do, I scrub a hand over my face and sag against the wall. She’s alive. Air rushes out of my mouth and I inhale again. She’s alive.
A huge bouquet of balloons enters the room first. Three of them bump against my head and block my view of Rachel. I bop them out of the way and throw a dagger glare at Abby as she emerges on the other side of the helium nightmare.
“You said she was dying,” I whisper from behind the wall of bobbing plastic.
Abby rolls her eyes. “Of boredom. It’s not like there’s anything interesting to do around here. Someone tries to bring in a puppy and they get all pissed. It’s not my fault it pooped.”
I grab the string of balloons to keep her from going any farther. “You lied to me.”
That evil smile spreads on her face. “Shocking. What are you going to do, spank me?”
I release the balloons and she blows me a mock kiss. That girl is f*cking psychotic.
“What’s with the balloons?” Rachel asks.
Abby places them on the nightstand next to Rachel’s bed and collapses into a chair. “We’re being festive.”
“Festive?”
“Like a party, fiesta, you’re-in-a-normal-room celebration. I need to get you out more.”
My family isn’t here. Not a single one. Isaiah, Rachel’s a*shole boyfriend, sits in a chair parked tight to her bed radiating badass: tattoos, earrings, hair shaved close to his head. Through the tangles of tubes and wires hooked to Rachel’s body, they hold hands.
A muscle in my jaw twitches. Ethan and I found out over a month ago that she was seeing this guy behind my family’s back. She ditched school to see him. She ended up in debt to a street hustler because of him. She fought with me and Ethan over this guy when she’s never fought with us before. He’s why her best friend is a drug dealer. It was through him that Abby and Rachel were introduced.
Isaiah’s bad news and he’s the reason why she’s here. He took her to the dragway. She thinks she loves him, but she doesn’t. “Want to get the f*ck off my sister?”
“West!” Rachel chastises.
With his hand still entwined with hers, the son of a bitch barely looks at me. “It’s going to take a lot more than you to pull me away from her.”
Rachel’s head whips in his direction. “Isaiah!”
The balloons thump together. Abby flicks her finger against them until we stare at her. “Festive, people. Urinating on the floor like a pair of dogs does not make for a good party. Well...at least one Rachel should be attending.”
Isaiah mumbles something that makes Rachel giggle and Abby starts into some nonsense story. Their voices shift into background noise as I focus on my sister. There’s less than a year between us. She has a twin, but I secretly feel like their triplet. My earliest memories are of Rachel, of her laughing and sometimes of her being sick.
She suffers from panic attacks. Bad ones. It makes her shy and it’s also made her a target, which is where I come in. From elementary school ’til now, I’ve never had a problem connecting my fist to the jaw of any guy that’s tortured my sister and most girls know better than to talk shit about her when I’m around. They’d find themselves having to hang with a new group of people.
My parents don’t understand Rachel or any of their children, me included. They don’t know all I’ve done to protect her since we were small, but they do know about the one time I failed.
Rachel shifts, but her legs don’t move. There’s a buzzing between my muscles and my skin. Like a trapped fly that needs to be surgically removed. Isaiah stands, his mouth moving, but I hear no words. He helps Rachel readjust and once again her legs remain motionless.
As he reclaims his seat, her face pales out and Isaiah and Abby lapse into silence.
“Talk to me.” Isaiah possesses a calm that causes me to hate him more.
Rachel sucks in air as if she were in labor. She white-knuckles the railing on her bed and my fingers twitch with the need to tear something apart...to make someone pay for her pain.
My sister’s heart-monitor beeps increase. Isaiah pries her fingers off the railing and takes her hands in his. “Abby, go get a nurse. Breathe, Rachel. Give me the pain. I can take it.”
Abby stands and I step back.
“West?” Rachel asks through a breath. “Are you okay?”
The hurt in her voice knifes through me. I meet her eyes and shake my head as my sight flickers to her legs again. I’ve got to get out of here before I implode.
A hand lands on my shoulder and I snap my head to the side to take in Dad. I expect him to yell, asking what the hell I’m doing here. Instead he keeps his hand on my shoulder while he mumbles words like “daughter, pain and medication” to a passing nurse.
He urges me into the hallway and I follow. The breath is knocked out of me when my mother collides into my body. Her hands capture my face, then slide down to my shoulders while her glassy eyes survey me. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” From over her shoulder, I try to judge my father’s reaction, but his poker face gives nothing away.
“Why did you leave?” Mom shakes me. “What on earth would make you leave?”
“Miriam,” Dad says softly. “Let’s take this into the family waiting room.”
Mom observes me like I’m a ghost. “You left. You know I don’t handle leaving well.”
F*ck, I hurt my mom. “I’m sorry.”
“Miriam,” urges my father.
As if I’m five, Mom slips her hand into mine and grasps it as if her life or mine depends on the contact. Together, we head down the hallway.
“I didn’t know that you were gone until yesterday.” She speaks in a quiet voice reserved for conversation during a church service.
“Dad knew,” I respond while attempting not to flinch. She didn’t notice for two weeks.
“I know.” There’s a rare bite in her tone. “And I’m dealing with that.”
Mom hesitates and I shove my hands in my pockets as I pause with her. Two weeks. Mom didn’t notice I was gone for two weeks.
“I’ve been all but living here at the hospital and when I was at home briefly and didn’t see you, I just assumed that you were out with friends. Making new ones at your new school and keeping up with old ones. We all knew you weren’t coping well with Rachel being here, so I thought...you were...dealing with this in your own way. I...” Mom drops off. “You’ve always been so independent that I never stopped to think...”
That’s the point: when it comes to me and my brothers, Mom never stops to think.
“Your brothers knew,” she says, but before she can continue Dad calls for us to join him.
In the empty waiting room, Dad pours three cups of coffee and hands one to Mom, then me, and gestures for us to sit. The rich aroma drifts in the air. It’s surreal being here with them and crazier that the atmosphere fits a business negotiation more than a family reunion.
“How’s Rachel?” After all, that’s the reason I’m here. “She didn’t move her legs.”
In his pressed white shirt, starched black pants and black tie, Dad pulls a seat around, creating a triangle as he faces me and Mom. “I’m flying a new specialist in this week. We should know more soon.”
I hold the hot drink between both of my hands and think of Haley’s cold fingers. Rachel would like Haley. That’s the type of friend she should have instead of drug dealer Abby and punk Isaiah. “Isaiah’s bad news.”
Dad nods.
“So’s the girl,” I say with a twinge of guilt. Abby’s been helpful, but she’s a drug dealer and regardless of what she’s done for me, Rachel’s safety is the priority. “They’re both trouble.”
He nods again.
Even now, our father is worthless. “Then why the hell are they in there?”
Dad sips the coffee and leans forward. “How do I tell her no when she’s in pain?”
“I guess the same way you told me to get the f*ck out of your house.”
Dad and Mom glance at each other. Mom angles her body toward me and Dad inspects his coffee. “I was angry and said things I shouldn’t have. I didn’t think you would listen.”
Anger crashes through my bloodstream like a tidal wave. “You didn’t think I would listen when I was informed I was trash and you didn’t want to see me again?”
The man honestly has the nerve to meet my glare. “It’s not like you’ve listened to anything I’ve had to say for years. Why would I have thought you’d start now?”
I start to rise and my mother slams a hand on my knee. “You’re not leaving.” She directs herself at Dad and yells, “He’s not leaving. I have buried one child and I have come close to burying another. I will not have stupid pride costing me a third.”
“Mrs. Young?” A nurse pops her head into the waiting room. “The dietary nurse would like to speak with you.”
Mom is charity-ball smiles as she tells the nurse she’ll be right there, but the moment she’s gone, Mom releases an expression that could rival Abby’s any day of the week as her cold eyes work over Dad. “He’s coming home. Fix this. Now.”
She stands and smooths out her gray pants and checks the cuffs of her sweater before resting a hand on my cheek. “I love you and I want you home. There is no other option.”
Her tone tells me everything else: I disappointed her. She’s hurt, angry, sad. That once again I failed. But mostly, she loves me.
I nod, unable to say or do anything else. Her heels click against the faux wooden floor and fade the farther she goes down the hallway. I place the coffee on the end table. “What now?”
“I don’t understand you, West.”
No shit. He doesn’t understand anyone in our family.
Dad eyes the floor. “Why were you in the Timberland neighborhood?”
“How did you know?”
“The GPS in your car. I had one installed in all your cars when you got your licenses. I’ve been trailing you the entire time. You didn’t actually think I would just let you walk away? Jesus, West, give me some credit. You are my son.”
My eyes jump to his at the word son and a dangerous glimmer of hope flickers inside me. Is it possible he regrets throwing me out? But if that’s the case, how come he never showed? How come he didn’t ask me to return home?
“Your mom tried to call you,” he says.
“My cell died.”
“I figured.” He scratches his jaw. “You haven’t answered me. Why were you in the Timberland neighborhood? Why not with one of your friends or my parents?”
“Dump’s in that side of town. Just going where you told me I belonged.” I’m pushing him. We’ve been tearing at each other for so long we have no idea how to stop. At least I don’t.
“Why, West?” he presses. “I need to know, why there?”
“Why does it matter?” Does Dad know Mom’s been going to that bar?
“Answer the question. Why do you make everything difficult?”
“If I do, it’s because I learned from the best.”
“Just answer the question.” His voice rises with his anger.
I stay there because it’s close to Haley, but I don’t want her anywhere near a conversation with Dad. “It doesn’t matter why.”
His fist clenches. “My father once told me you can love your children, but you don’t have to like them. I never understood him. I thought his words were cold and callous, but then I realized I don’t always like you.”
F*ck it. I stand, memorizing what I’ll tell Mom because I refuse to live under his thumb. Not after holding Haley last night. Not after figuring out my life’s jacked up. I’ll take the damn shelter. Living in the damned car wasn’t as bad as listening to this.
“I was in the Timberland neighborhood because I got a job,” I say. “That pays. Tell Mom I’ll call her once a week.”
The surprise registering in his eyes causes me to smirk. He honestly thought I’d return home with my balls cut off and he sure as hell didn’t think I’d be willing to walk again.
“A job?” he asks.
“Yeah. I don’t need you anymore.”
The moment I step for the door he says, “Your mother’s been through hell. Are you willing to put her through more?”
F*ck him for using guilt. “No, I’m not.”
“Then come home for her.”
A knife straight to my gut. Come home for Mom, not for him because he could give two shits about me. Regardless of how much I tell myself I don’t care what he thinks of me, I do. I’ll never hear him say he wants me or that he’s proud of me, yet whenever he opens his mouth, I hope for the words.
“What are your terms?” I won’t fool myself that this is anything more than a business negotiation. Haley’s words echo in my mind: Are we different from animals on an auction block?
“I’ll give you until graduation to clean up your act, your grades, your life, your attitude, and if you do, I’ll let you stay in my house. Otherwise, I want you out this summer. Who knows, maybe you can find a way to make me proud.”
“Yeah,” I mutter as I leave. “You never know.”