Page 83 of No Greater Oblivion

“Why didn’t you?”

I turn my head and realize I’m still touching his arm. I pull away. “Didn’t what?”

“Tell me. Why keep it a secret all this time when I could’ve handled it myself?”

“I don’t know,” I answer honestly. “We aren’t in a good place. I guess maybe I thought it’d be easier to do it alone instead of inviting you back into my life.”

In the beginning, I considered it. My first thought was to tell Diego or Lettie but our relationship has been strained since the breakup so I kept it to myself. The truth is, I don’t have a real answer. I got it into my head that I could fix all of this on my own but never thought far enough ahead to consider what would happen when Alejandro eventually found out. And if I’d told Alejandro, I’d risk all the progress I’d made in my life up until then.

I feared this; him coming here, and me succumbing to temptation. We’re horrible for each other. All we do is yell, fight, hammer at each other’s weaknesses, and run around in circles. This is awful, I feel awful. How could a relationship like the one we once had turn into something as ugly as this?

Where did we go wrong?

20

ONE TOO MANY DEMONS

Alejandro

The Present

“We need to come up with a plan.”

Dahlia pauses mid-bite. “What?” she mumbles around a mouthful of pancake.

Lyss says, “If what you’re saying is true and the FBI is closing in on Li, then we have to make sure he goes down alone.”

“Brilliant,” I reply. “I wish I had thought of that.”

Lyss’s eyes narrow at me. As I take a step back from the stove and jerk the frying pan with a flick of my wrist, she bumps me on her way around the counter and the pancake I was flipping lands lopsided, hot butter and batter sloshing over the edge. I let out a frustrated huff and point to the massacred pancake.

“This one’s yours.”

“No it’s not.” She grabs the plate I served myself and starts digging in.

“Not fair.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she waves a syrupy fork around, “who’s the one involved with a notorious drug trafficker and on the cusp of having the FBI slap a pair of handcuffs on their wrists?”

Dahlia snorts and almost chokes on her orange juice. I lift my spatula and open my mouth to retaliate but…she has a point.

“Well-played.”

Last night, Rian and Lyss stayed out for a few hours and by the time they got back, it was already dawn. Dahlia attempted to sleep but she was fitful and restless and we spent what was left of the evening hours watching television in silence. It was strange but comfortable. I can’t remember the last time we were in each other’s company and it didn’t end in a screaming match.

About an hour ago, Rian went upstairs to shower and after today, I’m considering petitioning the Catholic Church for sainthood. Because when he comes down the stairs with wet hair and fresh clothes, implying he has drawers and a space in Dahlia’s closet, I almost bludgeon him to death with the frying pan.

He doesn’t bother to greet us. The first words out of his mouth are, “You have to be sure.”

“Good morning to you too.” I drop the deformed pancake on a plate in front of him. “Have a seat.”

He ignores me and focuses his attention on Dahlia. “About Li. You have to be sure.”

Her throat works with a swallow and she pushes away her plate, breakfast half eaten. Absolutely criminal—it took half a tub of butter to get the edges the way she likes them and now this asshole has ruined her appetite.

“Can this wait until after the girls finish eating? It’s been a long night.”

His razor-sharp gaze cuts over to me. “Why are you still here?”