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“What, deep inside you’re all saints?” Ross’s voice resonates in my memory.
And then, “Let her go.”
In moments like this, no matter how I struggle to see the line, the boundary between the good and evil, the righteous and the wicked, I can’t, and that scares me to death.
Because if it means I have to change the way I see things, the way I remember the past... then it also means I need to change the way I remember Ross and in redefining him, redefine who I am.
Chapter Eight
Ross
“Get your fucking asses moving!” the construction superintendent, Hudson, yells. “We got work to do. Break’s over.” And then, predictably, “Ross Jones, where the hell are you? Get your pansy ass over here.”
He can wait another minute. Asshole never lets us have our full break.
I throw my cigarette butt to the ground and step on it, then light another smoke and inhale, letting one poison counteract another, bitter smoke against pain, darkness, anger, the weight that’s been pressing on my chest and shoulders for years now. All my life.
My body aches, too. Sticking the cigarette in the corner of my mouth, I lift my T-shirt up and wince at the sight of all the bruises. My ribs are a lovely black and blue, and my back burns like fire when I move. Some bruises are from last night, some from the previous days and weeks.
Motherfuck.
I let the hem of my T-shirt fall, covering it all up. It’s okay, I think. That’s life for ya. Shut up and suck it up, Ross, like you’ve always done with dear old Dad.
Frowning—because this is different, right? It’s gotta be fucking different—I suck on my cigarette and almost choke on it when Hudson yells my name again.
Not surprised he’s got it in for me like everyone else, I take one last drag, throw the cigarette away and make my way to him, see what’s gotten his lacy panties in a twist.
“Where do you want me?” I ask, taking the helmet off and ramming it back on my head, hoping to distract him enough to get out of this and get back to work.
“Get to work or I’ll have you fired!” he yells at me, red in the face, tendons in his neck bulging. “Your days of glorified laziness are over. Get it? You think you’re better than everyone else? That you deserve extra break time? Is that it?”
Damn, it didn’t work. “No, boss. Look, I’m coming—”
“You ignore me one more time and your ass is out on the street.”
Fucker. Not something I can afford. “I was just finishing my smoke.”
“One more word from your punk-ass mouth, I swear, and you’re done.”
I’m done anyway, I wanna tell him but swallow my bitter words, my bitter smoke, and haul my ass back to work. Maybe there’s an escape now—fix my bike, get on the road and ride away into the sunset.
Really, Ross, an irritating little voice whispers in the back of my mind as I stomp through the construction site. You sure you’re gonna leave? Leave and go where? What is escape for you exactly? Escaping the ghosts of the past? Don’t you know you can’t, no matter how far and fast you run?
Besides, Luna is here.
And where nothing else was convincing, for some reason this last stupid argument is. Luna is here, in this town, and I can’t just take off. Not when I can see her, and hear her, and maybe touch her.
I’m so damn fucked.
***
“Coffee?” a girl’s lilting voice asks and my head snaps up.
It’s her, that girl, the girl haunting my thoughts. She’s right here, close enough to touch. I smirk up at her. “You offering?”
Her mouth tightens. “All customers get coffee. Don’t flatter yourself. And I work here, so you know... You’re the one who got in my way this time.”
I lift my brows at her. “I see.”
