Page 2 of Renegade Rift

“Whoa, Etta, pull back.” Paige’s voice yanks me back to the present.

Her eyes flit down to my hand, crushing my red solo cup.“I know what you’re doing.”

I blink and press my lips together. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

But she does.

“Don’t bullshit me, Etta Cruz. I know better than anyone when you’ve fallen into a spiral of bullshit thoughts. Your eyes gloss over, and the left one begins to twitch. If you’re angry, like you are now, your lips purse. And if you’re sad, you get this cute little wrinkle between your brows.”

Forcing a mock grin, I raise a brow and subtly shift all focus away from me. “It’s oddly endearing and slightly disturbing that you notice all that.”

“What can I say? There’s a reason I’m your best friend.”

It’s true. Mostly because Paige wouldn’t take no for an answer. When she found me, I was nothing more than a shell of a woman, desperate for a hand to hold but afraid to trust anyone. I was walking the edge of destitute and desolate before she walked into that women’s shelter and heard my story and declared us best friends.

It didn’t matter that she didn’t know me. Paige is the kind of human who has the unique ability to see through to who you really are, and she decided I was worth it. I’m not sure I can ever repay her for that kindness.

Of course, she’s also the reason I’m working under the table as a full-time topless maid and part-time bartender. When I realized I needed money fast, stripping was going to be my first option, but I’ve got all the grace of a baby deer and didn’t want to risk falling off the stage.

My mother would say Paige isn’t a good influence, but to that I’d say she’s exactly what I need—wild, free, and most of all, kind.

I owe her my life.

And hopefully one day, it will be the only debt I owe.

“And because I’m your best friend,” Paige continues, “and I know you’re going to take this job regardless of what I say. I’m going to remind you, you’re a strong, capable woman who isn’t going to let her ex-dickhead win.” I love when she refers to Tyler as ex-dickhead. “And also point out, all of his teammates died with him on that plane.”

It’s morbid, but I can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of me. “I don’t think that’s supposed to be a selling point.”

“You’re right.” She taps her heart with two fingers and tips her head back, gesturing toward the ceiling. “My apologies to the dead.” Her eyes fall to meet mine, and she offers me a soft smile. The kind meant to reassure and inspire. Though all it does is stir the already simmering anxiety in my chest. “What I mean is, none of Tyler’s teammates live on the Row anymore. They don’t know who you are or that you were ever affiliated with the team. So, you are going to wake your happy ass up at the crack of dawn and sway your little hips down there to clean what I am sure are already pristine apartments, put on a little show, and take their goddamn money so you can fix the problem they created.”

My laugh startles Lodhi, who jumps from my lap and curls himself up at the head of the bed on my pillow.

“I’m pretty sure the Renegades didn’t make Tyler gamble away our savings and rack up enough debt to last me a lifetime.”

“No, but they should have known.” Her eyes are pointed daggers, and even though I know they’re not meant for me, they prod the shame and guilt inside me.

“They should have stepped in.” Paige hesitates and when she continues, her voice wobbles. “They should have protected you.”

A choked sob shakes my chest, but I hold back the noise. Though it does nothing to stop the tears streaking my cheeks.

Because while Paige can say those words with her whole chest, I can’t.

I could have done more to protect myself. I let him do this. I was weak.

The Renegades hold no fault in what happened between Tyler and me. That responsibility lies entirely with me. I let him put me in a box. I let him break my will to fight back. I let him…

And because of it, my whole world crumbled, brick by brick.

But that’s the thing about being buried beneath the shambles of a broken house. Eventually, the light breaks through the cracks, and if you’re brave enough to claw your way out, something beautiful can emerge.

I want to be that beauty.

I want to take back what he took from me.

The problem is, as much as I want it, there’s always the depraved voice inside me that takes over. The one that is a mix of Tyler and my darkest thoughts.

What if I get it wrong again? What if I’m not strong enough? I couldn’t even advocate for myself in my marriage. How the hell am I supposed to demand more from the rest of my life?

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