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Marisa
Loving me right now was like tiptoeing through a minefield.
Thankful I was finally back home, I sighed as I fiddled with the glass in my hand. I wasn’t healed. Emotionally that was.
The scar from the gunshot would remain. Eventually it would fade, and perhaps there’d come a day it wouldn’t be a constant reminder of how exceptionally I’d failed.
I may have made it out alive and in one piece, but something inside of me was destroyed.
And for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out what the hell was wrong with me.
I had the love of an amazing man. I could no longer deny that I was hook, line, and sinker in love with him too.
My team was okay.
Tyler’s team was okay.
Several of López’s men had been rounded up.
But that motherfucker was still in the wind.
And I still had no idea what had become of Lupe.
This was like JJ all over again.
Guilt was eating away at me. I lost. I had royally screwed up.
Again.
I felt hollow inside. An empty vessel trying to find some semblance of the person I was. Only a week ago, my life seemed to be on the right course. I felt like I was flowing with the tide instead of battling against the current. But somehow, Poseidon had chased me down, thrown me into a crazy vortex, and shook up my happy world.
A week after being released from the hospital and I was no better off. Sure, I was healing just fine back at home in the comfy confines of my own space, but I was torn to shreds. Rain fell in a heavy stream outside. The sky was silver-black and lit up intermittently as lightning cracked overhead. Thunder boomed, echoing in the wind as it whooshed through the night.
I emptied my glass as I tossed back the last of my scotch. I knew it wasn’t wise, but it was the only thing keeping me warm. The buzz I was feeling was numbing my emotional pain. I could tolerate the physical pain. The emotional turmoil was a whole other story.
Tyler stormed through the door in a rush. “It’s really coming down out there.” He was soaked.
“Yeah,” I said, staring out the window, like pieces of my soul had been ripped from me and were lost out in the storm waiting for me to come rescue them, rescue myself. Inside, I was dismal, like the weather. I could feel the rage of the storm outside. It matched the anger I felt within myself, the sky’s tears falling as I wished I could release my own.
I dropped fresh ice cubes into the tumblers, poured the amber liquid over them, and handed one to Tyler. We clinked our glasses, taking sips of the smooth liquid together. “Davis called,” he said.
“Yeah.” He had called me too. “We haven’t gotten any new leads. No new update about López’s guys either.” Part of my doom and gloom mood was because we weren’t getting anywhere with the information we had. No one would give my team or me any information about Guadalupe. The last anyone of us knew, she was hurt but alive. I didn’t know if she had made it out or if someone had taken her out. Or if quite possibly, she was lying in a ditch somewhere fighting for her life.
It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right. She was my responsibility. And I had failed her.
“Right. One’s still in a coma. The other is still heavily medicated. Heard he’s got valuable intel, right?”
“Yeah. He’s in critical condition though. The guy in the coma has to know something too. It’s intuition. This is all hopeless.”
Tyler took another drink and swallowed. He was waiting to make sure I was finished. “He’ll wake up, baby. Just give it some time.”
“I don’t have time!” I yelled.
He held up one hand in surrender.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “It’s not your fault that I don’t have answers.”
“I know you’re frustrated. I get it. It’s okay to be mad. It’s okay to yell and scream.”
