He leans on the other side of the car, arms folded together on the roof. "You need someone. Can't keep going on this way. You're only going to be miserable."
I know what he means. It's the same thing he's been saying for the last week.
He wants me to talk to Summer. He wants me to figure things out with her like she didn't fucking shoot me in the leg.
And like I didn't kidnap her, torment her, torture her, and keep her from her family.
Semantics.
Hector arches an eyebrow. "You can keep trying to ignore the conversation, but we both know you're not happy without her around."
"And what would you have me do about that?" My tone drips with sarcasm.
I'm not interested in what he thinks I should do.
I know what I have to do, and that's leave her behind and move on with my life. I don't have time to keep being wrapped up in her. Too much time has already been spent running over every single minute she was with me and thinking about all the things that went wrong. Or thinking about what went right and wondering why she still left.
Hector shakes his head, rapping his knuckles against the roof of the car. "She shot you to keep you safe. Your stupid ass was going to run into the fight when you were already barely standing. She knew her brother, and she knew that you weren't going to be in any trouble, and then she came along and let you out."
"What's your point?" I twirl my keys around my finger as sirens start in the distance.
It took the neighbors longer than I thought it would to see the smoke. Some things can't be prevented, though.
Hector pushes back off the car, standing up straight. "Summer did what she could to keep you alive. You think she turned against you, and maybe she did in a way, but you're standing here and alive because of her."
Without another word, he gets in his car, whipping around in the open area and shooting down the main road as the sirens get louder.
For a minute or two, I stand there, half waiting for the glow of red and blue lights whipping through the forest as the cops and the firetruck arrive. Part of me wants to get caught. I want to be done with all of this.
If I'm being honest, I'm not sure killing Aiden is worth it anymore, but I don't know what else to do.
This has been my purpose for the last several years. This has been everything I've wanted to do, and now that I'm standing right at the edge of it, all I can picture is the look on Summer's face when she finds out I'm the one who killed her brother.
And for some reason, I haven't been able to go after him.
That's going to change.
I slip into the car, leaning over long enough to pull the gun out of the glovebox. I check it before setting it on the seat beside me, leaving the burning people and the bodies within behind me.
I don't knowwhat I'm doing here. I shouldn't be here. It's a horrible idea, and I know things are only going to go up in flames after this.
I could very well be walking into my death, but I don't have any other options.
Glancing up at the sign for the laundromat, I consider turning around, getting back in my car, and waiting for Aiden to hunt me down and kill me. I don't know why he hasn't yet. There has to be something wrong.
And this is like walking into the fucking lion's den.
I have to be some kind of stupid to take a risk like this, but I've thought through all the other scenarios. This is the way it has to be.
Summer will forgive me one day.
I hope.
I take a deep breath, opening the door to the laundromat.
The heavy thump of machines greets me, bright light shining overhead. There are a couple of people scattered along the chairs lining the little window nook, all of them pretending to be off in their own world.
The scent of laundry soap is heavy in the air as I make my way down the row of top-load washers to the back, pushing open the door to the office.