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“He didn’t leave it.”
“Oh right, it just fell out of his pocket,” Josh says. “How inconvenient.”
“Shut up, Josh. You don’t know Ross at all.”
“And you do? That’s a joke. Just because you fuck—”
“Josh!” Dad’s glower is formidable, bushy brows drawn together. He rarely uses it, and its appearance means he’s truly angry. “This isn’t helping.”
“Wasn’t supposed to help,” Josh mutters.
“He’s innocent, Dad, I know it.” I hate how my eyes fill up. I refuse to cry. “I told you, he’s changed. And besides, he’s never done anything like that. Why would he?”
“Maybe he wants to run away, like you,” Josh says sullenly. “Maybe he wants to run away with you. Real life has costs.”
“And what do you know of real life and its costs?” I whirl on him, struggling not to scream. “He just gave me all his money so I can run away because you went and told him that’s what I wanted. Here!” I take out the wad of money and throw it at my brother. “Doesn’t look like the loot from a bank vault, does it?”
He flinches, lets the bills thud to the floor.
“I don’t want it,” I continue. “I don’t want to leave. Do you think I enjoyed going away and not having you around? That I didn’t miss you, and Dad? I’m not giving that up again, not out of fear. And Ross is a big reason why I wanted to stay.”
Josh’s eyes are round like saucers.
“Luna...” Dad whispers.
“If you two aren’t going to trust me on this, not going to help me get Ross out of jail, then I’ll just have to find someone who will. Now excuse me, I’m going to bed.”
Dad doesn’t follow me, for which I’m grateful, as the tears win the battle and run down my cheeks. But they’re angry tears, not tears of shame, of weakness. I’ll fight for him, I’ll find out what really went down and get him out of there.
To my mind, it’s clear as day that someone orchestrated Ross’s downfall, and there are many candidates to choose from. Half the town wants him gone, and some anger, some violence is needed so people won’t walk all over you, as I’m starting to find out. It’s as if I’ve absorbed some of his darkness. An angel infected by some evil, rising again, growing back his wings—but right now I need those feelings to fight back, protect him.
It’s the last clue, the last piece in the puzzle of who Ross is, why he is the way he is, why the roughness and violence and fury: his reaction to the world, his defense, his way to survive.
“I’ll prove you’re innocent,” I tell the walls of my room, the star-studded ceiling. “I won’t give up on you like everyone else. I swear I’ll stand by your side.”
***
Been trying to find the phone number of Merc Watson. He’s managed to hide his private info and I’ve had to send him a friend request on Facebook and then a message on messenger. I did manage to find his email, and sent him a message there too, but who checks emails nowadays? I just hope I reach him. If he doesn’t reply soon, I’ll try his sisters, and I wish I knew his brother-in-law’s garage name.
Maybe Dena knows? Dad probably does but after last night’s argument I don’t want to go asking just yet. Not unless it’s my last resort.
Going to work after what happened yesterday is killing me. I’ve tried to call Ross but it all goes to voicemail. I’m starting to wonder if he left his phone at home yesterday. I’ve called the station but they said he was being questioned. That he had to make the phone call if he wanted to talk to me, and that he will be kept for more questioning. No, he’s not being released yet as far as she knows.
Crap.
My worries are waylaid when I enter the diner and find Dena crying behind the bar. She tries to hide it, turning her back to me and busying herself cleaning the trays, but her shoulders are trembling.
“Hey... You okay?”
“Yeah. Peachy.” She sniffles loudly.
“Did something happen?”
“No. Everything’s fine.”
I have no clue what could be wrong, except... “Are you crying because Ross was arrested?”
“What? No.”
