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It’s in these moments that the memories come back. The darkest ones—my little bro, Adam, his perfect Hollywood grin as he punches me in the shoulder.
“I got your back.”
Yeah, dude. Like shit you did.
I am falling deeper into darkness. And that fateful day.
Mom’s Corvette shines in the sun as Adam opens the door to the back seat.
“Archie! Come on!” Mom shouts from behind the steering wheel.
I wink at my brother. He only smiles. “Mom, he is staying.”
“Adam, what do you mean he is staying?” Mom’s voice is disappointed.
“I’ll tell you on the way.”
He winks at me. He’ll cook up the best story of why I am not going with them.
“I got your back,” he says as he closes the door, disappearing inside the car.
The next time I see him is when his small body in a Hugo boss kid suit lies peacefully in a coffin as we bury him and Mom.
19
CALLIE
We rideto the resort in the back of a truck as I whisper random stuff to Kai and hold him, beat up and bloodied, in my arms, his head leaning on my shoulder.
He can barely walk when we get out of the truck, and the guards escort us to a bungalow. I don’t have the energy to analyze everything that’s happening. But the guards are never rough with us. It’s as if any physical abuse is for Archer’s own pleasure.
I’m glad Archer got his ass kicked. Though Kai is in bad shape too.
It’s a relief when we finally get to the room, almost the same as the one before but with a king-sized bed in the center.
One of the guys, a bulky man who looks like Hulk, sits Kai on the bed and yanks his chin up.
Kai swats his hand away, though he can barely sit upright.
“Relax, mate,” the man growls in a raspy voice. “I have doctor’s orders to check for injuries.”
“I’m fine,” Kai exhales but doesn’t fight him anymore.
The man checks his eyes and ears, then teeth, then inspects Kai’s bare torso. He must know what he is doing—I’ve seen that on MMA shows.
When the guard is done, he glances at me briefly. “You should take care of the bruising,” he says as he walks out, leaving us alone.
Finally.
I come up to Kai and lower myself to my knees, looking up at him.
Bruised, bloodied, tired. His gaze on me is sad as he tries to smile.
“Kai, baby,” I whisper, my heart squeezing so tightly, it’s hard to breathe.
His hand slowly reaches my face and palms my cheek. I cover it with mine and lean into his touch.
“I failed, huh?” he says softly, almost in a whisper.
