Page 58 of Light

“Enough. Both of you.”

He lets the silence settle again before speaking, calm but firm.

“We don’t let people touch our own. Light’s made Melissa his business, so now she’s ours too. You all feel that?”

Every man around the table nods.

“We handle this. Smart. Surgical. But final. Semi, work with Light. Get every bit of intel on Deke’s operation. If he’s laying hands on women and kids, he’s already dead. He just doesn’t know it yet.”

I feel the fire inside me finally get some shape. Some purpose.

Deke crossed a line.

And we’re coming for him.

Fifteen

Melissa

I thoughtI could push him away before I cared too much.

I'm too late.

Light is already deep under my skin.

For the past three nights, I've taken to staying out. I stay at the hospital for as long as the staff will let me, then at night I either walk around the grounds or go to the all night cafeteria, just sipping on a coffee or something.

I want to pretend like it's just because I'm scared that Deke might show up, but there's more to it than that. I'm also scared that Light might come back around, and I'll have to admit that I need him. I'm so lost. I don't even know the next step to what I need to do. Maybe once Tyler is healthy enough, I'll move again. I hate to do it to him because he only just got used to the place we're living right now, but I don't think I have much of a choice.

According to the time limit that Deke put on me, I only have three more days before he comes back and makes good on his threat. What else can I do.

I'm sure the hospital workers are starting to talk about me. It's not like I'm taking care of myself. My hair is a mess, I'm pretty sure I've got my shirt on backward, and I've been surviving off nothing but coffee. I'm a mess, but at least I can be here with Tyler.

Getting as comfortable as I can, I pull my legs up in the chair and lean my forehead against my knees. I'm so tired. Maybe I can get just a little bit of sleep here.

The world swims somewhere between sleep and waking. It’s quiet. Peaceful in a way hospitals rarely are. The low hum of machines. Tyler’s soft, steady breathing. And then?—

A voice.

Deep. Rough. Familiar.

At first, I think it’s one of the nurses talking softly to Tyler. Some of them do that. They say it helps. Hearing voices they know, reminding them the world’s still waiting.

But this voice isn’t soft. It’s raw. Weathered. Tired in a way that hits my chest.

Then I smell it. Leather. Motor oil. That scent I’ve come to recognize.

Light.

My breath catches in my throat.

I keep my eyes closed. Just for another minute. I don't know why. Maybe I want to hear what he says when he thinks no one’s listening. Maybe I’m afraid that if I move, the moment will disappear.

“I miss you, little man,” he says. His voice is low, tight like it’s being held together by frayed string. “Didn’t think I would. Not like this. But I do.”

There’s a long pause. The creak of the chair as he leans closer. I picture him sitting forward, elbows on his knees, eyes fixed on Tyler.

“You gotta get better soon, alright? Because we got things to do. I found this old busted RC car I’m gonna fix up for you. Maybe we can even go on a ride together. Don’t tell your mom, but I’ll let you sit on the bike. Just for a second. Helmet and all.”

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