“Z,” I say, using my soft voice—the one I know is good to use around him when his brain starts getting a little mixed up.
A little mixed up.
That was always how I worded it, taking it a little more careful around Z than I ever did other people.
I’d think about my words before I said them aloud, trying them out in my head first. Sometimes I’d step in front of Bruiserto shield him before I gave Z bad news so Bruiser couldn’t see his dad’s face if there was a report from school about how he was getting bullied.
Z had no patience for any of it, and I never wanted any of his bad moods to land in Bruiser’s direction.
I was always the buffer.
I never realized until now that the only reason I put up with it all for so long was because Z was out trucking so much of the time and was barely home. Maybe if he’d been around more often, I would have seen the truth of it sooner.
“Z, remember the woods?” I say softly, peeking up at him through the sliver of open door. Trying to reach him in the way only I ever could. “Remember when we met? We were just two kids. Z, we can get back to that,” I lie through my teeth, voice soothing. “I know we can—just you, me, and Bruiser.”
But Z’s face only hardens.
“You think you can playme?” He gives that dark, disturbing laugh again. “I know who you are, Harp. I’m the only one who could ever play you at poker and see you bluffing.”
He leans in, eyes burning.
“It’s time to learn the hard truth, baby girl. Because you’re right. There are consequences.”
And then he slams the door on my hand.
I hear his heavy footsteps walking away as I scream in pain.
FIFTEEN
HARPER
“If you ever want to see thelight of day again,” comes Z’s voice I don’t know how many hours later—maybe the next day.
I woozily shoot up to a sitting position at the sound of his voice from where I’ve fallen asleep on clothes I pulled from hangers above to use as a pillow, blinking in the dark.
Of course, I pounded on the door for a long time with my good hand and screamed my lungs out for I don’t know how many hours before I eventually gave up and fell asleep.
My limbs are cramped. My tongue is thick and spongy, completely dried out because I am so, so thirsty. The hand he slammed in the door is bruised and hurts whenever I move my thumb, in a way that tells me something’s probably broken. I wrapped it in the ripped hem of one of the long-sleeved shirts to try to stabilize it, but it’s a laughable excuse for a brace.
I can’t believe I ever gave this man my body. Or allowed my son to call him his father for almost adecade.
“Where’s Bruiser?” I ask, my throat so dry it hurts to talk. “I—I?—”
“He’s still at Ximena’s, but I’m sure he’ll be wanting to come home soon.”
“What do you want from me?”
“I wanted to have awifeand a family,” he says, still with that manic edge like it’s been the couple times he’s snorted coke around me before I banned it from the house, “but you never would give me that! Would you? So I guess it’s time you give me my due. Like the guys always said it should be. You giving me what I tell you,when I tell you. Like real men do with their bitches. So now you’re gonna sign over Silas’s club to me.”
“My dad’sclub?” I’m completely bewildered. For a second, I’m so scrambled I can’t even figure out what he’s talking about. “What club?”
“The one that idiot’s using as a sex dungeon. In Dallas. Carnal or whatever.” Z’s voice darkens. “You know the one. You were there, just there, betraying me. Probably letting that fucker bend you over and break your back the way you never let me.”
“Betraying you?” I laugh so hard it trills all the way up an octave. “Ibetrayedyou—?” I break off because it hurts too much to talk.
Still, I manage to squeak out, “You locked me in a closet with no water, psycho. You’re the shitty partner here.”
I slam the door with the soles of my feet, even though I know it’s stupid to let him see me get too angry. I told myself I’d be nice and placating and whatever the hell else it takes to get out of this Goddamn closet. I have to go find my son.