Crew, Page 31

  I felt punched with every word he said.

  "If anyone deserves to hurt him, it should be Taz then."

  Jordan grimaced, and I ignored him.

  Cross snorted. "Right. We should've let Mallory go up on that hill with us. Remember that night? I know you like to sit those beatdowns out, but fuck, Bren. I thought you were with us. I thought you were with me."

  I heard his accusation.

  Icy dread swirled through me.

  I heard his pain.

  "What do you think I'm doing?" I burst out, my voice cracking. My chest heaved. Every vein was stretching, trying to explode. "I am here for you, and you don't want to hear this, but you have to." I turned, and I faced him head-on. "You're going to kill someone. You don't walk away from that! You. Not him. Not that fucker. You, Cross!" I leaned forward, almost lunging at him. I grabbed his shirt, and I was right in his face. "My mom is gone. My dad is in prison. My brother was gone since I was fucking eight years old. It's been you. It's been goddamn you all my life."

  I shook him with every word.

  He went mute, but his eyes were on mine. He was listening.

  He was giving me this time.

  "Let's beat him up. Please," I rasped. "You want him to pay? Make him live with what he did. Beat him so bad he doesn't walk. Do that. Just don't kill him." My lungs rattled. My whole body was shuddering. I pressed my forehead to his. My lips grazed just over his. "You pull that trigger, and I lose everything. I lose you. I can't lose you."

  The truck was turning. Slowing. We were on a gravel road.

  "Taz loses you," Jordan added, his voice strained. "You're hurting your sister. Again."

  Cross didn't move.

  He didn't pull away.

  He didn't reach for me. He didn't take my hands in his. He didn't move his face back.

  He sat there, like a rock. He was cement, on the outside and inside.

  I was going to lose him.

  He wasn't going to change his mind, and realizing that, I did the only thing I could think of. I crawled onto his lap. I wrapped my arms around his neck and curled my legs in, and then--then--he moved. His arms pulled me the rest of the way.

  He held me close, and I lifted my head. I put my lips to his ear and whispered, "Please don't leave me. I love you."

  I was on repeat, saying nothing else.

  But so was he.

  He said nothing else.

  He just held me, like he was saying goodbye.

  Then we pulled up to Durrant's house.

  I'd never forget that house.

  Every piece of chipped paint. Every crack in the sidewalk. Every step it would take to go up the patio and through that door. I'd never forget the yard, or the manmade lake it was on.

  The temperature was burned in my memory.

  It was hot. It was unnaturally hot. My shirt stuck to Cross' chest. There was a sweet smell in the air, mingling with our sweat. I remembered noticing that, and then feeling the goosebumps on my skin.

  Everything was wrong that day.

  I was usually the dark one. Cross was my light. We'd switched roles today. And that, somehow, was wrong too.

  Jordan was the reasonable one.

  Zellman wasn't even here.

  All of it. All wrong.

  I thought all of that before Cross opened the door. I hadn't moved from his lap, but it didn't matter.

  Even the creak of the door was wrong. It was usually silent. Not a sound came from it. Jordan would've cursed about it. He was anal about the upkeep of his truck. And then that flashed from my mind too as Cross stepped out, carrying me with him. He set me on my feet, his eyes holding mine the whole time, just like always.

  Then he reached around me.

  His chest touched mine. His arm brushed against me before he stepped back, the gun box in his hand.

  "Cross--"

  "No!" He looked over my shoulder. "Both of you."

  Jordan had stepped out on his side, his door still open.

  "I mean it. This is my decision." Cross looked between us. "You're either with me or you're not. Which is it?"

  "When you become one of us, you have to agree to three oaths."

  "You made me promise to three oaths," I said.

  He was ignoring me, getting the gun out.

  "Hey!" I grabbed his shoulder, whipping him around. "Listen to me!"

  "...will you treat us as family?"

  I pushed up until my body was touching his. "Treat you as family." I cupped both sides of his face. "You're more family to me than anyone."

  His eyes started to close.

  "Don't!" I clipped out. "Look at me! You're going to do this, you're going to have to look at me before you walk away."

  He shook, quivering, and he opened his eyes again.

  A small amount of pressure lifted from inside of me. A small part of that icy dread warmed, just a tiny bit. But not enough. Not goddamn enough.

  "Will you fight for us as you'd have us fight for you?"

  "I'm supposed to fight for you like I'd want you to fight for me, and I am fighting for you. I'm fighting for you because you're me. We're a unit, whether we want it or not. I love you. I love you."

  I was so close, my lips were grazing his, and I felt every word vibrate to my toes.

  I couldn't stop cupping his face. I couldn't stop pressing against him, as if I could literally keep him from moving.

  I felt him shifting, putting the gun in his pants, and then his hands came to my arms. They were gentle, but he moved me back.

  "Bren." His hand touched the side of my face. "Let me do this. I have to. He touched Taz. He keeps touching you. I can't--this has to be done."

  His body stiffened. His hands went to my shoulders again.

  He was going to push me away, and then he was going to step away, and then he was going to go away.

  "I want to die," I cried.

  He stopped.

  I'd pulled the last card I had.

  "And the last, will you forgive as if we're one person?"

  I felt her touch on my back. It was gentle and loving, and I felt her strength seep into me. I didn't care what anyone told me. I felt her presence as strongly as when she'd held me before I turned nine. I felt her heat. I smelled the rose perfume she wore.

  I didn't feel her inside me anymore, not the way she used to be. It changed that second, that day. Searching Cross' eyes, seeing how stricken he was, I didn't see her in him anymore either.

  "Bren?" he choked out, reading inside me.

  "That's why I go to my house. I go to see her, but I go because I want a mom again."

  A wall crumbled inside me. Everything was spilling out.

  I needed to say it. I just knew I needed to.

  "I want my dad back--the one he was before he drank, before she left, before Channing left. I want everything how it used to be, before I had to stab a guy to keep him from raping me."

  My chest rose and held. "I can't have any of that again, so the only way is if I die too. You're keeping me from going down that road. You're keeping me here. I am fighting for you every goddamn day of my life! Don't you get that?!" Anger licked my insides, pushing everything aside. It rushed over all of it, and I was suddenly enraged. "I don't give a shit what's going on at your house. I don't give a shit how much you want to kill Alex. I don't give a shit how much you're hurting. You hurt more. You give a shit more. You deal with it more. You keep taking it, enduring it, fighting back, and you goddamn keep going, because that's what I'm doing!"

  The edges blurred.

  I wasn't seeing straight.

  I grabbed for the gun.

  Cross' hand closed around it, but I rotated my back into him, pulling the gun out and away. He couldn't keep his hold, and as soon as it was free, I flung it. As far as I could throw, as hard as I could throw.

  Cross swore and started to go around me.

  I hip-checked him, slamming him back. "No! NO!"

  He shoved me away, getting in my face now. "This isn't yo
ur decision!"

  "FUCK YOU!" I hit him. I hit him again. "It is because you're mine. You're MINE!" I started pummeling him, one fist after another to his chest.

  I would fight him with everything in me.

  I was crew. That was it for me.

  I heard a crunch of gravel behind me. I heard Jordan's voice saying, "Here." And Cross bundled me up, shifting me to the side as he reached out.

  He passed me to Jordan, as Jordan passed him the gun.

  My mouth fell open. "Wha--"

  Jordan's shoulders seemed to slump, and his eyes were bleak too. "It has to be his decision." He was resigned.

  "Wha--"

  "I'm sorry."

  I didn't know who said that, but Jordan held me back, wrapping his arms around me.

  It happened in slow motion after that.

  My heart ripped out of my chest.

  I struggled against Jordan's hold. I kicked at him, twisting, trying to fall out of his arms. None of it was working and he slumped to the ground with me, wrapping his legs around mine, keeping them in place and positioning his head next to mine so I couldn't hurt him that way either.

  I was a pathetic, wiggling worm, and I watched Cross go into that house, the gun in his hand.

  I waited.

  Nothing.

  I waited longer.

  Still nothing.

  Cross went into that house, and...nothing.

  There was no yell, no gunshot, not even a struggle. Just the same silence that always accompanied me wherever I was, whoever I was with. It was always there.

  I stilled and finally said, "Alex would've heard us."

  His arms tightened around me. "Shit."

  He let me go, and we both scrambled up, running for the house.

  I got there first, bolting through the front door. "Cross!"

  All the lights were off inside. There was a cold feeling to the house, like no one lived here. In that split second, I took in the pictures on the wall. The blankets folded over the couch. A pink little backpack on the floor, next to a larger black bag. The tennis shoes lined up by the wall. The little glittery sneakers next to them. A piano in one corner of the living room. A table that had mosaic tiles on the top of it. A kitchen counter with mail in a pile, a bag of bread with the end tucked under, a bowl of oranges next to it. A coffee machine in the corner. A tray of the little coffee cups that go inside it.

  A cupboard of mugs.

  There was a staleness in the air.

  People lived in this house, but that wasn't the way it felt.

  It felt cold--like death.

  "In here!" Cross' voice came down the hallway.

  We ran past doors until we found him, in a bathroom off the hallway.

  Alex was slumped on the floor, a bottle of pills and whiskey next to him, his head hanging low. His body was already pale.

  "Shit."

  Jordan said that, but I didn't recognize his voice.

  Cross wasn't standing over him with a gun. The gun was on the floor next to his foot as he knocked the pills and booze away and felt for Alex's pulse.

  He yelled over his shoulder, "Back the truck up. We have to take him. Paramedics won't get here in time."

  He wanted to save his life.

  Both Jordan and I were paralyzed a second, letting the scene register.

  Cross looked up and barked, "NOW!"

  Jordan hit the doorframe next to me, using it to push himself around in a tight turn, and he was off.

  Fuck.

  Fuck.

  Fuck.

  My pulse was back to racing, but this was a different type of sprint.

  Cross met my gaze. "He's barely breathing, but he's breathing. His pulse is slowing down."

  I nodded, my throat swelling. I couldn't bring myself to talk, but I moved over him and jammed three fingers down Alex's throat.

  His body jerked against me.

  Cross moved back, giving me space.

  I yelled at him, "Get rid of that. Now." I nodded to the gun.

  He grabbed it, putting it in his pants again.

  "HERE!"

  Jordan pounded back inside, and with my fingers still trying to make Alex throw up, he and Cross picked him up. All three of us moved together, keeping Alex on his side as we ran through the house. We made sure his head didn't hit any walls or doorframes, and once we slid him onto the back of the truck, Cross and I jumped up.

  Jordan sprinted back inside, coming out with his arms full of blankets. He slammed the tailgate shut behind me, throwing the blankets at us.

  "Jordan." Cross held the gun out to him.

  Jordan grabbed it, then leaped inside.

  I had one second to grab one of those blankets, stuff it under Alex's head, and grab hold of the side. We were off. Jordan peeled out of there, spraying up dirt and half of Durrant's yard.

  I didn't remember the drive to the hospital. I'm sure it was dangerous, and maddening, and wild. I'm sure there were times we might've been flung from the back because Jordan didn't slow down. He drove like he needed to save a life.

  I didn't give a damn that my hand was inside Alex's throat half the time.

  I remembered feeling such relief when finally he started throwing up.

  I remembered looking up and meeting Cross' eyes over Alex's body and being so fucking grateful we were saving him and not burying him.

  I remembered seeing my Cross once again.

  Then we were at the hospital.

  The doors to the ER slid open. A nurse came out, his eyes bulged, and he began screaming over his shoulder. He ran to the back with Jordan beside him, and all of us helped slide Alex to the edge just as a gurney appeared. I started to go with it until that same nurse touched my arm.

  "We got this." He nodded to all of us. "Thank you. You probably saved his life."

  There were two other nurses with him, and they pushed Alex inside, just as a doctor ran to meet them.

  And I knew I would always remember that feeling--standing there, staring after them, with my guys right beside me.

  I felt alive.

  A nurse showed us to a room where we could shower and change into different clothes.

  I was pretty sure it was a staff waiting room, and I was sitting on a bench between a bunch of lockers when the door opened.

  "Bren?"

  Cross walked inside. I didn't move.

  An hour ago we'd been going to kill Alex. Thirty minutes ago we were racing to save him. And now, I didn't know. I just didn't know. It was all such a whirlwind.

  "Hey." He kneeled at my feet, his hands on my legs, and he peered up at me. "Hey." He touched under my chin, raising my gaze to his. "You okay?"

  "You were going to kill him."

  He nodded. "Yeah. I was."

  There was no remorse. He didn't regret it. There was no shame either.

  "I would've, if he'd had an attitude, if he'd cussed me out, if he'd tried to fight me. I would've. I knew what I was going to do, and I'm not going to lie to you. I would've pulled that trigger."

  "What made you not do it?" I raked my fingers through his hair.

  "You." If possible, his eyes smiled at me. They warmed, and love shone through. "When I walked in there, he had no fight in him. He was trying to overdose."

  "How do you know?"

  He reached behind him and pulled out a folded-up piece of paper. It was wrecked, with blood on it. Cross unfolded it and gave it to me. "He left a note."

  I know I have people coming for me, and I didn't mean to hurt her. I swear. An eye for an eye. I'm doing it so you don't have to. Peace out--Alex I looked up, and Cross took the note. Folding it up, he put it back into his pocket. Then he stood. He grabbed my hand, pulling me up, and wrapped his arms around me, tugging me against him.

  It was done. For now.

  There'd be questions, probably suspicions about why we found him, but there was no evidence either way.

  Cross dropped a kiss to my neck. "God, I love you." He laughed a second later, tightening his
arms. "You realize we never did the whole 'I love you' moment, right? You said it at Durrant's house."

  "I said it because I hoped it would make a difference."

  He cupped the back of my neck and leaned away, just enough to see me. "It did. You have no idea how much. It did, Bren." Then he pulled me in, hugging me almost delicately now. I felt him brush his lips against my forehead, and he sighed. "Everything you said, it's the same for me. I'm saying it now. Everything, Bren. You hurt, I hurt. You bleed, I bleed. You smile, I smile. You're happy, I'm happy. It's almost ridiculous how much of you I am. It's been like that for a while. Now it's just official. You and me. We're a we, and I don't want anything to fuck that up. Anything."

  I nudged him with my elbow. "Besides what you almost did?"

  He paused, then his body relaxed. His head dropped to my shoulder. He peppered some kisses there, his hands slipping to my back, sliding under my shirt. "I might've killed him if you hadn't been there, and if you hadn't said all those words. I just might've." He paused, his lips on my skin. "You might've saved me."

  Maybe.

  I hoped.

  I rested my head against his shoulder, reaching up to run my fingers through his hair.

  I'd told him everything. Jordan knew everything.

  This was... I didn't know how to feel. My walls were gone. I was exposed, but I didn't feel like freaking out. The opposite.

  I felt strong.

  "You okay?" He pulled back, asking again. A softness sparked in his eyes, and he rested his forehead to mine, his hands falling to my hips. "You still want to die?"

  "I--" I shook my head. "I said all of that, and it didn't matter to you."

  He lifted his head, frowning. "Bren?"

  "You went in there anyway."

  "It wasn't like that."

  "It was." I started to pull away. I began to know how I was feeling. I was feeling that rage again, that betrayal again. "I peeled back all of my walls, and nothing. You still walked."

  "You think if I'd killed him, I would be gone too. That's not what would've happened."

  "You don't understand."

  "Bren--"

  "You don't!" I snapped, stepping back. "I was going to kill that guy in my bedroom. I was going to do it."

  He tried to reach for me, but I twisted out of his reach, backing up until I hit the lockers behind me.