“I never should have told him,” she says. “I never should have told him, and then this wouldn’t have happened.”
Phil hands her a tissue, and I jam my hands in my pockets. I’m not sure what to do with them. “Hello,” I say when she stares at me.
“You must be Pete,” she says. She smiles. “Edward told me all about you.”
“What happened?” I ask, nodding toward the bed.
Her eyebrows arch with feigned amusement. “He gave up his life for me. Again. He did it before when he went to the detention center, and he did it again today.”
Phil turns her with a hand on her shoulder. “I could use some coffee,” he says. “Walk with me?”
I think she knows that I want to talk with Edward. She nods and looks longingly toward the bed. “Please make him fight,” she whispers. “Don’t let him give up.”
She leaves the room with Phil, and I go sit in the chair where she was sitting. I nibble absently on my fingernail, wondering if I should wake him. “I’m so pretty that you can’t catch your breath, right?” he asks, his voice quiet. I didn’t even know he was awake. “Deep breaths, man,” he says. “You can push through it.”
“How are you?” I ask. I force some joviality into my voice. “You look like shit.”
“Thanks.” He groans as he pushes himself up in the bed. “They say I’ll live.” His gaze roams around the room, and I wonder if he’s thinking about the man he killed.
“I’m glad,” I say. I don’t know how to talk to this kid. I really don’t. I’m floundering here. “Want to tell me what happened?” I ask.
He shakes his head.
“Why don’t you do it anyway?” I ask.
“He’s dead, right?” he asks. A tear rolls down his cheek, and he swipes it away.
“Yeah.”
“Some people need killing,” he says. He doesn’t crack a smile, and his voice breaks. He’s hurting, and I can tell.
“Did he need killing?” I ask.
“He was hurting my sister,” he says. “I knew it the minute I walked into the room.” He squeezes the bed rail until his knuckles turn white. “She didn’t even have to tell me. I could see it in her eyes. Just like before.”
“There was a knife?” I ask. I try to remember everything he’s telling me, and I wonder if I should be writing it all down.
His gaze snaps to mine. “It wasn’t mine,” he says. “It was his. He came at me with it, and I couldn’t stop him.” He lays a hand over his stomach. “He jabbed me with it. I pulled it out, and he jumped me and fell on it.” He’s openly sobbing now. “I swear to God that I didn’t want to kill him.”
I reach out and clasp his hand, squeezing hard, our thumbs crossed the way men shake hands. “It was an accident.”
“Do you think they’ll believe it?” he asks.
“I don’t know,” I say quietly. I don’t want to give him hope if there is none.
“I had plans, you know?” he says. He sniffles. “I wrote them down.”
Jesus Christ. This kid had plans.
“I wanted to be somebody my sister can be proud of. I wanted to be for her what no one was for me.”
“You can still have those things, Edward,” I say.
He shakes his head. “Will I go to prison?” he asks.
“I don’t know,” I say again.
“I don’t want to go to prison,” he says.
“We need to get you some tattoos,” I say. “Nobody f**ks with you in prison if you’re all tatted up.” I squeeze his hand. “I need for you to do me a favor,” I say.
“What?” he asks, his eyes wary.
“I need for you to remember that you’re just as important as your sister.”
“I’m not,” he starts.
I get in his face this time. I can only think back to when I used to call him Tic Tac in my head, and I realize what a disservice I did this kid. He’s better than that. He’s good on the inside, and I could try to be more like him. But I judged the outside, and I feel terrible about it. “You’re just as important as she is, and you never had anybody to fight for you.” I feel my eyes filling with tears, and I blink them back. “But you have somebody now, dummy. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”
“They told me my whole life that I’m not worth anything.”
“They lied,” I grit out. “They lied to make themselves feel better.” I shrug my shoulders. “It’s up to you if you believe them.” I let his hand go because holding it is getting awkward. “You’re pretty f**king amazing,” I say.
“My sister needs to go to a group home until I can get her out of foster care,” he says.
“We’ll talk to Phil and see if he can help.” I heave in a deep breath. “Don’t give up, okay?” I say.
He doesn’t say anything.
“Look what you’ve been through, Edward,” I say. “How many people could have survived it? You did. So, don’t throw it all away now. Have hope.”
“I can’t afford any hope.” He snorts. “That shit’s expensive.”
“Then you can have some of mine. Hell, you can have all the hope I have for you. Because there’s a whole f**king lot of it.”
“I never had anybody on my side before,” he says.
Phil and Mr. Caster walk into the room. Mr. Caster glares at me, and Phil looks curious. “The guy fell on the knife,” I say. “Edward didn’t do it on purpose.”
Mr. Caster pulls out a notepad and starts to write. He motions for Edward to continue, and he goes through the whole story while Reagan’s dad takes notes.
Phil claps a hand on my shoulder. “Thank you,” he says. “I really think you could be successful in this line of work.”
“I’m not sure I can take the heartache,” I admit.
“He sobbed like a baby,” Edward tosses out. He laughs and then clutches his side when it hurts.
“I didn’t sob,” I grumble. I point to his side. “And that’s what you get for being a smart-ass.”
“Better a smart-ass than a dumb-ass,” he says. I flip him the bird.
“I should get you home,” Phil says. “It’s almost nine o’clock.”
Shit. I almost forgot. I nod and clasp hands with Edward. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” I say. He smiles and nods. Watching him is like watching a flower reach for the sun. It’s like Reagan’s tattoo.
“Mr. Caster,” I say, and I extend my hand. He takes it, albeit reluctantly. “It was good to see you again.”
“You’ll be seeing a lot more of me, Pete,” he says, and he grins. But there’s no mirth in it. It’s all warning.
“Wouldn’t have it any other way, sir,” I say.
Phil nods at me, and we walk out to the truck. My emotions are on overload, and I want to hit something. “What happened to Edward, that happens to a lot of kids?” I ask.
“More than you could imagine,” he says. “All variations of the same scene.” He looks up at me. “I wasn’t kidding when I said you’d be good at this line of work.”
“I know. I’m thinking about it.” I don’t know if I want to be on the front lines the way he is. Or if I want to be a lawyer like Mr. Caster. I’m still deciding.
“Thanks for going with me,” he says.
“Anytime,” I toss back as he stops the truck, and I get out. I really want to go to Reagan’s, but with this damn tracking bracelet, I can’t. I don’t need to be there with her anyway. I’m too emotional right now. I could never be what she needs in this state.
I run up the stairs. I really need a good workout to get rid of this energy. I feel like I am two steps from losing control of myself. I’m angry. I’m angry at myself for ever f**king my life up. I’m mad at cancer for getting Matt sick. I’m mad at my life. I’m mad at me. I’m mad at a system that couldn’t protect Edward or his sister. I’m just mad in general.
I walk into the apartment and the lights are out. Thank God, nobody’s home. A sliver of light shines from beneath my door. I open it and see Reagan sprawled across my bed reading a book. She sits up and brushes her hair back from her face. “You’re home,” she says. She smiles at me. It’s so pretty and so sweet and so not what I need right now.
“You shouldn’t be here right now,” I say.
“What?” Her eyebrows scrunch together.
“You should go back to your apartment,” I say. I mess with things on the dresser so I won’t have to look at her.
“No,” she says. “What’s wrong?” she asks.
“I had a long day. I don’t particularly want any company.” I know that I’m hurting her, but if she stays, I can’t be what she needs.
“Pete,” she starts. “Tell me what happened today.”
“What happened with you?” I ask. “Was your dad pissed you spent the night here?” With the ex-con. I don’t say the last part, but I think it.
“He was,” she says with a nod. She’s choosing her words with care. “But he’s my dad. He’s supposed to act like that.”
Her hand lands on my shoulder, and I flinch. She flinches too, but she doesn’t draw it back. I squeeze my eyes shut and rest my hands on the dresser, my elbows locked. I want to crawl into a ball in the corner and rock myself to sleep. No, I don’t. I want to draw Reagan into my arms and sink inside her and make her a part of me and let her take all this. But she can’t. She’s not made for that.
“You should go, Reagan,” I say again.
“No,” she replies. She tries to turn me to face her, but I won’t budge. She blows out a breath and ducks down to slide under my arm, getting between me and the dresser. I back up. I can’t be this close to her. I can’t. It’s not all right.
“I can’t be what you need right now,” I say quietly. My voice shakes.
“What do you think I need?” she whispers.
I swallow past the lump in my throat and flex my fingers, making fists over and over. “You need to be loved calmly and carefully. And I can’t do either tonight. You need to go.” I can’t even look at her. I can’t.
“You think I need to be loved calmly and carefully,” she says slowly.
I nod, sucking my piercing into my mouth to toy with it.
“You want to know what I think?” she asks.
“What?” I grunt. Apparently, I’ve turned into a caveman who can only speak in monosyllables.
“I think I need to be loved…completely.”
My gaze jerks to hers. Her eyes are soft, and a smile plays around her mouth.
She walks to me and takes my face in her hands.
“I do love you completely,” I say. “But…”
She shakes her head. “No, you don’t. You hold back because you’re afraid to hurt me.” She wraps her arms around my neck, and her lips hover an inch from mine. She whispers. “Love me completely, Pete.”
I growl and jerk her shirt over her head and pull her pajama bottoms down, her panties going with them. She doesn’t shy away from me, so I walk her backward toward the bed. She takes a step back every time I take a step forward, until she has no choice but to sit back on the bed. She scoots to the center of the bed, and I drink in my fill of her as I watch her undress really quickly. “I can’t be calm or careful,” I warn, “but I’ll stop if you tell me to. Just say the word.”
“I know,” she says. She crooks a finger at me, but I don’t let her take charge. I grab her foot and jerk her to me. I immediately worry that I’m being too rough, but she just laughs.
“I need to be inside you,” I say as I grab a condom and roll it onto my dick. “I don’t think I can wait.”
She doesn’t say a word.
I spit into my hand because I’m afraid she’ll be dry. I rub my dick with it and crawl to lie between her legs. I palm her ass and tip her toward me, and then I surge inside her in one hard push, hitting it hard enough that she moves on the bed, her head pushing toward the headboard. She cries out. But she’s not crying out in pain.
“Don’t stop,” she says. She yanks my hair in her hands and forces me to look into her eyes. “Let me be what you need, so you can be what I need, too.” Her breaths stutter from her as I stroke inside her. I can’t get enough of her. I can’t get deep enough. I push both her legs toward her chest, which tips her bottom up higher. Her hands clutch my ass, pulling me in, deeper and harder with every thrust. I am fully inside her, taking every inch of her silken sheath as she accepts me. She accepts my anger. She accepts my helplessness. She accepts my love for her.
“Pete,” she cries. She breathes out my name, over and over, and I feel her pu**y contract around my dick, milking me as she comes. But I’m not ready to be done. I flip her over and pick her up on her knees and then I’m inside her again. I grab her thighs and pull her back to me, and she feels even tighter this way, if that’s possible. She lies down, her face against the sheets and her ass in the air. She lets me power into her from behind. I’m rough and abrasive and I f**king love her so much. I roll her hair around my fist so I can turn her head and kiss her. Her tongue touches mine, and she her lips quiver. I reach around her and find her clit, rubbing it the way I know she likes. I slow my movements and bring her to orgasm until she’s quaking in my arms.