Page 124 of Relapse

I stopped at the front of the car, and Vance didn’t look at me as he stepped out, walking around to the passenger seat. He sat down instantly, his hands folded neatly in his lap like he was in the church pews on a Sunday. Without further direction, I got behind the wheel.

“Where are we going?” I asked. My voice sounded steady, and I was proud of that.

“You’ll see when we get there,” Dante said, jumping in the seat behind me. “Just drive.”

I pulled out of the garage, merging into the stream of brake lights on Sixth street. The cars were bumper to bumper. My mind couldn’t help but consider the lives of all of the people in the cars around me, and how they’d be going home to their families, their kids, to dinners that would be on the table waiting for them upon arrival. I thought about Noah’s window sill, and sneaking in to meet him but never once getting to stay. I thought about the way he’d touched my face in the shower like I was something worth loving. I thought about the night he confided in me—the night I knew I would do anything for him.

I wondered if my cousins would continue terrorizing him after I was dead. Or if they’d leave him alone.

I wondered if he would ever be happy.

And then there she was again—like clockwork—that stupid redhead, living in my brain rent free as though I wanted her there.

As much as it pissed me off, Delane made Noah happy. I knew that now.

I hoped that if I died today, she’d stay by him. I hoped she’d never give up on him, like everyone else did in his life.

“Enter on Lincoln Highway,” Dante ordered from the back. He was leaning forward now, his breath warm against my ear. “North.”

The car inched forward. Green lights came and went. “There’s traffic,” I said.

“Then we’ll sit in traffic."

I signaled to change lanes. My hands were dry and that surprised me. I thought they’d be sweating. In the rearview, I caught Dante’s eyes—empty, cold and filled with disgust for me. We weren’t family anymore. I was something else. A problem. A stain.

“Remind me why I had to sit up here, next to this guy?” Vance pointed the question back towards Dante as he adjusted his cufflinks. “What if he starts trying to make a move on me?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” I growled.

I could see Vance glaring daggers at me from my peripherals, but I kept my eyes on the road ahead and didn’t engage with him anymore. This was just the beginning of what I’d endure tonight.

The highway opened up ahead, and the Santiago Bridge loomed ahead, lights strung on either side like hundreds of glowing pearls. For a moment, I thought about driving us straight into the guardrail. I thought about the drop. I thought about how fast I’d have to be going to make sure none of us made it out alive.

But my hands stayed steady on the wheel.

“Keep driving,” Dante said, and I felt the barrel of something hard pressed against the back of my skull. Maybe he knew what I was thinking. He could sense it, probably.

I smirked. Even with the gun against my head, I knew he wouldn’t be quick enough. If I wanted to crash this car right now, I’d be faster than Dante’s trigger finger.

“How long have you been fucking him?” Dante asked suddenly, taking me aback from my intrusive train of thought. The question didn’t come across as angry. He sounded curious, almost.

I didn’t answer right away. The barrel pressed harder.

“How long?”

“Months,” I admitted. The word felt like they were being pulled out of me with hooks.

“Months,” Vance repeated, his silent stewing next to me did not last long. He shook his head. “For months you’ve been dipping your dick in Hansen territory. You know what they call that?”

“Suicide,” Ray said with a laugh that shook from the back seat of the car.

I kept driving. The city lights blurred past the windows, and I focused on the white lines, the rhythm of the tires on the asphalt. My heart was hammering now, but I kept all emotions out of my face. They wouldn’t get that from me. Eventually, they’d get the fear, the pain—everyone does when the body starts breaking—but they wouldn’t get the shame. I didn’t regret a moment spent with Noah. My only wish is that I had protected him from this life I was living and the one he had been subjected to. More than anything, I didn’t want Noah to be targeted because of me. If something happened to him, I would never forgive myself.

“Take the next exit,” Dante said.

I signaled. The car drifted right, into the lane, toward what I assumed would be an abandoned warehouse with drains and plastic sheeting. I still didn’t see that, so I kept going straight after entering the access road.

“You want to know something funny?” Dante said, the gun still pressed cold against my head. “He made it worse for you. That Hansen. He smarted off to Jace when he should have just kept it quiet. You’ve both gotten so fucking comfortable, flaunting yourself in public. You have no remorse, no regret. Nada.”