Page 56 of 50 Ways to Win Back Your Lover

I force a tight “I’ll be fine,” even though I’m anything but fine. The second she’s gone, I find my phone and power it up. As expected, there are a slew of texts from my brothers, this time in a group chat, minus MIA Desmond.

Jake: I will fucking kill him.

Cal: He’s not worth our energy.

Lennon: I’ll help Jake hide the body.

Cal: No one’s hiding anything. He kind of did us a favor. Now everyone we hurt will know we didn’t do it on purpose.

Jake: Did you just defend our scumbag father?

Lennon: I’ll make room in the grave for Cal.

Cal: No one’s killing anyone.

Jake: If he makes Mom look bad, or hurts her in any way, I will personally dismember him.

Cal: If he hurts Mom, I’ll cut him and throw him in shark infested waters.

Lennon: Dude. Who took over Cal’s phone? Did the cartel get to him?

Cal: No one fucks with Mom.

I tap out a furious question, the only one that matters.

E: Did his dipshit move ruin our chances to leave WITSEC?

Jake: No. We’re clear. Agent Rao just called Mom. They were gonna give us the news today. There are no lingering threats. Whoever wants their old IDs can have them soon. Until then, we’re technically free to tell people our real names.

The chat goes on, with Cal and Jake saying they’ll likely resume their old names, Lennon saying he’s not sure, even though they’re already using our birth names in the chat. They curse Dad in between speculation and toss out a few worries about Desmond. I’m shaking too much to join the conversation. The relief in knowing the cartel’s no longer a threat gets burned under my rage. Any kind of tell-all book will devastate Mom, drag her through this mess all over again. And Desmond. The last thing he’d want is to have any aspect of his life splashed across a book, written in permanent ink.

The walls feel like they’re swaying, my vision clouding around the edges. All I see is hate. Red-hot fury, searing me alive as I picture the people I love hurting.

I storm into my room, toss on my running gear, and jam my feet into my sneakers. I’m running before I get outside, pushing my legs to go, go, go. I don’t have a plan. I just need to move before I end up experiencing one of my inbursts, barricading myself in my room, unable to face the world and all it’s heaped on my shoulders.

I hardly feel the pavement under me, barely notice the passing streets. I’m running without seeing, furious thoughts whirling at a dizzying rate. So much pain for Mom. Worry for Des. Sadness for all my brothers, who, like me, are nothing but marionettes in Dad’s extravagant theater production of My Family of Pawns.

My lungs burn. My thighs and calves ache. The muscles in my face hurt from glaring. I have no clue how long I’ve been running, but I find myself on the gravel road to the old quarry.

The massive rocks still hold sentry, guarding my memories: Avett and I messing around; Delilah and I sitting on the stone ledge, lying on our backs, legs dangling over, holding hands while we talked about how much she missed her dad, how much we hated acting in Oliver!, how much Desmond annoyed me, how much I loathed math and science, how excited she was to be a teacher one day. I find myself in the same spot, on this shitty day of days, my legs dangling over the edge, rocks digging into my spine as I lie back. The sky is so blue and clear I’m sure a bird will fly over and crap on me, as per Life’s MO. I press my hand to my sternum, unsure if this relentless pain will ever cease, kind of drifting off into a haze.

Tires on gravel alert me to someone’s arrival, followed by the sharp crack of a door being slammed.

“Knew you’d be here.” Avett’s voice sounds strange out here, in this place of memories. Too mature and weighted for the boy who used to crack up when I’d shove rocks down his shorts.

I stay lying on my back. Avett sits on the ledge beside me. “I had no clue, man. I obsessed over a ton of reasons why you might have disappeared, talked to Delilah about your dad maybe stealing cash from businesses he worked for, wondering if you were too embarrassed to reach out. And witness protection was on my radar, but with the hacking theory, not money laundering, since Jake was good with computers and could’ve gotten your family caught up in high-level drama. But having cartel hits on your heads?” He blows out a long breath. “Can’t imagine what you’ve been through.”

There isn’t much to say besides the obvious. “It was rough.”

He picks up a small rock, launches it into the gaping quarry. “The tell-all book can’t be good news.”

“I don’t know why he can’t just leave it alone. Actually, that’s bullshit. If I asked him, I have no doubt he’d say he had an opportunity and he took it. That’s exactly what he said, by the way. I cornered him once, demanded to know how he could launder money and risk our lives. With zero emotion, he said, I had an opportunity and I took it.”

“Fuck, that’s cold.”

My angry snort doesn’t begin to cover my feelings on the matter. “The man is a narcissistic egomaniac who deserves to spend his life behind bars, but here we are.” I force myself to sitting and sigh. “How’d you know I was here?”

“Our vet tech told me about your father’s book deal and the money laundering, and she saw Sandra at Sugar and Sips, who said she saw you running in this direction on her drive to town. I had a break and thought I’d check here, needed to tell you how awful I feel for yelling at you the way I did.”