Page 20 of Split You Open

“Did it?”

I shake my head as my shoulders fall. “No. It made everything worse.”

“Then you don’t need me to lecture you. You already know this was wrong and since it didn’t help, maybe you won’t do it again. I’m not your dad, Santi. It’s not my job to scold you.”

I might not need him to scold me, but he’s always been the voice of reason for all of us. Scolding, even gently, kind of comes with that role. He’s acting weird. Something is off about Wes tonight and it’s concerning.

Swallowing down my own emotions, I close the distance between us, concerned for my friend. “Wes? Are you… okay?”

Wes chuckles but the sound holds no mirth. He turns halfway around to look at me. Thanks to the light coming off the back porch, I can see his face. Despite the heavy shadows cast on it, there’s no missing the absolute exhaustion in his expression. His eyes are dim, his mouth pulled down into a heavy frown, and his shoulders hang so low. I’ve never seen Wes look so ragged.

“No, Santiago. I’m not okay,” he admits with a heavy sigh. “My best friend held a gun to my face. My woman is on the run with danger on her heels. And Rhett was in a dark place just a few days before he took off with her—I’m scared because I don’t know how this will affect his mental health. And you?” He shakes his head. “You’re not eating, drinking, and now you’re pulling bullshit like this.” He waves his hand at the wood chipper. “How can I be alright when nothing about this situation is okay?”

Guilt swells up in my chest.

God, I’ve been so fucking selfish. So wrapped up in my own head and drowning in my own emotions, I haven’t even considered how Wes was handling all of this. While he’s been shoving food in front of me and taking charge of Gnarly Pines, he’s also been suffering.

And I’m making it worse.

“Look, I’m sorry, Wes. I’ll be better,” I promise earnestly. “Starting now, okay?”

He gives me a tired smile. “Alright, Santi. Thanks. We need to figure out how we’re going to dispose of these guys’ cars.”

Right.

One more thing we have to do that will take away from being here and ready in case Rhett and Blair need us.

Damn it!

What is wrong with me?

I meant what I said to Wes.

Long after we’ve taken care of the cars and he’s gone to sleep, I find myself in the basement sitting at the very desk Ledger sat at when he initiated the hit on Blair and her dad. My fingers fly over his laptop’s keyboard, my mind racing as I work.

I might not be able to stop the hit but there’s got to be a way to slow it down.

My eyes are burning from staring at the screen but by the time I hear Wesley’s footsteps coming down from the second floor, hope has blossomed in my chest.

I’ve figured it out. There is something I can do for Rhett and Blair, and I’m already in the process of doing it. I can’t stop now.

“Santi?”

I rub my eyes, trying to ease the strain in them.

“Down here, Wes!”

We got rid of the cameras in the house. We both thought there was no need for Ledger to continuously check in on us while he was out hunting Blair and Rhett. The trail cameras are still up but that’s only because we want to know when he shows back up.

Wes’s heavy footsteps make their way down the stairs and over to me. I don’t bother sparing him a glance.

“Have you been up all night? Santi, that’s not good for⁠—”

“I needed to do something,” I interrupt, anxiously. “And I am. I did!”

Wes sucks in a sharp breath. “What? How?”

“I broke past Dixie’s security wall in his private chat room, got through his security firewalls, and gained access to his finances,” I explain with a tired smile. “I managed to drain most of the accounts dry. I’m still working on a few more but once those accounts are empty, Dixie won’t be able to afford sending people after Rhett and Blair.”