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Tears tumble down my cheeks and unforeseen gratitude has me preparing to hug him a second time.
He quickly lifts a single hand to indicate I stay in place. “One unwanted hug was sufficient enough for a lifetime, Miss Pierson.”
I nod my understanding, wipe away the tears, and relish in the way the world seems to be returning to its axis. It takes a little over an hour to get my disassembled bed, my dresser, my mattress, and all the other boxes stuffed into the living room and guest closet for their temporary storage. Dietrich tips well in approval prior to dismissing himself, leaving me to finally feel like I can breathe again.
Like the nightmare I’ve been living is almost over.
Explaining to Mom back in the guest room regarding the unusual delivery of my things – along with my chance to finally speak to Elias again – is unfortunately interrupted by the very person who cost me the love of my life to begin with.
“You’re still not over the asshole yet?” Tomas asks, running Vaseline over the latest addition to his sleeve of tattoos. “Is being fucking alive not enough for you?”
“Tomas,” Mom immediately chastises.
“You…” I growl at the same time I scramble out of the lounger. “You sorry sack of shit, you could’ve cost me everything!”
“That doesn’t sound like fucking thank you to me.”
“That’s because it isn’t!”
“It should fucking be!”
“Volume,” Mom fusses from her bed where she’s unhappily stirring. “Both of you.”
“I have every right to yell at him,” I bite while glaring at my brother. “He broke in to my boyfriend’s penthouse-”
“You let me in!”
“You told me you were dying!”
“He did what?” Our mother investigates, disapproval growing exponentially.
“It’s not that simple,” he tries to counter her direction, tone and volume, soft and sweet, obviously trying to play the “innocent baby boy” routine. “I-”
“Lied!” My yelling collects his glare. “All because you don’t think I can take care of myself!”
“What’s with all the yelling?” Dad asks at the same time he enters the room.
“Your brainwashed daughter still refuses to thank me for saving her from a serial killer!”
“Elias isn’t a serial killer!”
Both of our parents attempt to speak yet are cut off by my brother.
“How the fuck would you know? You don’t know shit about him that doesn’t involve his dick!”
“Tomas!” Mom squawks.
“Sorry,” he half-ass apologizes. “But it’s the truth. Zel has no fucking idea what that man is capable of. How he rapes and tortures girls and then when he’s done with them, just makes them disappear.” Tomas locks eyes with me. “I wasn’t about to just sit around and let that shit happen to my baby sis. Just because Dad got you into some fucked up shit didn’t mean I couldn’t get your ungrateful ass out of it.”
“Gareth,” Mom spits, voice dripping with venom. “What have you done now?”
Dad isn’t allowed to answer thanks to me closing most of the distance between me and my brother. “You’re making up bullshit to justify the fact you don’t want me to be happy. That the only thing you want is me around to make your ass croquetas de jamón and Cuban sandwiches because you’re too fucking lazy to do it yourself!”
“I’m not making that shit up! I did some digging into the fucker. Paid someone who’s good with computer shit to see what they could find. And what the fuck did he find? That like all the chicks he fucked – again, sorry Mom – are dead! You really think that shit’s a coincidence? You really that fucking stupid?”
“The only thing that makes me stupid was letting you and Dad both use me.”
“Zel,” Dad huffs out his hurt nature.
