“Wakey, wakey.”
“Please tell me that you made coffee,” I grunt, sitting up just enough that she can straddle me and I’m not being the biggest asshole ever. Sheispretty. Her eyes match that crazy shade of blue she insists on and… maybe I need to be around someone a little sunny. The summer I thought of Wyatt as my best friend might have been one of my low points.
“I did. But just so you know, it’s an addiction.”
“I hadn’t heard.”
I have too many addictions to keep track of. And I’ll need all of them if we’re supposed to invade Selma Sinclair’s private property in Missouri. Brinley kisses me on the lips, totally ignoring my morning breath. I try not to act too uptight and grossed out. She’s soft. And loving. And… I haven’t felt anything like this in a while. Before this can get too distracting, I hold onto her boobs and use them to gently guide her off me.
“We don’t have time for anything except coffee and a cigarette,” I groan. “Your cousin gave me marching orders.”
“I regret feeding you information,” she says. “It’s like… We have to work non-stop.”
Yes, Brinley. Most of us have had to work our entire lives.I let the prickle of frustration subside. It’s not her fault that she was born relatively rich, the daughter of a gangster who would never let his daughter experience anything but softness. Every hard thing in Brinley’s life has come because she actively sought rebellion.
I can’t say the same.
“You don’t have to come,” I tell her. “This could be goodbye again.”
Brinley rolls her eyes at me. She enjoys the parts of this road trip that are one big adventure, but anything that feels like work makes her fussy. I would find it cute if my ass weren’t on the line – not to mention Max, Kyler, and Aimee, Isaac’s kids.
“I’ll get us some coffee,” she says.
“Don’t be long.”
Brinley rolls her eyes again. My heart flutters. She comes back with fresh coffee that smells much better than the garbage downstairs. I don’t know how she put this together, but I don’t question it. The creamer smells like eggnog, my guilty pleasure flavor.Yum.I smile at the coffee and Brinley scoffs.
“You don’t smile at me like that.”
“I love you. I don’t have to smile at you.”
“Wow. So romantic.”
I take a sip of coffee. Romance has never been my strength. And with Brinley… She ran away before. She’s the one who left. I might have pushed her away but I’m still scared that she could do it again. Not every second chance works out, you know. And name literally one love story where a pair of lesbians get a happy ending. It’s not that I’m not romantic – I’m realistic.
“Trust me,” I tell her. “Please.”
I try to sound contrite so this doesn’t somehow end with Brinley crying and me apologizing for being such a bitch.
“I would complain a lot less if you would trust me and just tell me where we’re going exactly,” Brinley says, forcing me to scoot so she can sit next to me on the bed. It’s like she would wear my skin if she could. Except when she ran… Her head rests on my shoulder and although I feel the slight twinge of manipulation, I can’t help but enjoy her closeness.
“I can’t.”
Business stillcomes first.
Eventually, I peel Brinley off of me and get ready for us to dive headfirst into problems with Selma Sinclair. It will be worth it in the end, I hope, to make sure the kids are safe. I don’t know what will happen with me and Brinley after that but for now…I need her.
Chapter Eighteen
Gabby
Onika Murray and I have had three hours tied to a large concrete pole in some storage unit to talk to each other. No doubt on the other side of the garage doors there are guards and cameras, but for now we can whisper and trade information. I learn that she met her husband Odhran Murray in college, and she has been working for the Murray family real estate company since graduating so she can earn some money on the side. I explain what I can about my connections to Boston and to Isaac – the random attack, Isaac taking me under his wing to protect me, and how there have been people hunting us down ever since I met him.
Putting the story together like that makes it all sound terrifying and overwhelming but… I have a feeling it’s going to get worse. I already have bruises that I can’t see, but can definitely feel. Tylee hit me in the face with a gun and the first time I came to, she wasn’t there anymore, but there was a bald, terrifying biker with a gaunt, skeletal jawline that only made his face more terrifying.
I’m just happy we aren’t dead yet, but it’s not as comforting as you might think. The three hours don’t passquickly. Onika and I don’t have much of a plan either. If either of us sees an opportunity, we have to take it. That’s the best either of us come up with. Onika also refuses all my efforts to apologize. She thinks this isn’t my fault and just the way the world works, which makes me wonder if we really have lived in the same Boston.
I’ve never been in trouble like this in my life. I still plan on going to Harvard this fall as long as we get out of this alive. New footsteps and a deep, angry voice cause both of us to fall silent as our alone time definitively comes to an end. I didn’t quite catch his name because it doesn’t really sound like a name, but I’m pretty sure this man is called Scum. That’s who must be on the other side of the door.