Page 4 of Deadly Little Hearts

We stay in the jacuzzi until our fingers become wrinkled and the sun begins to rise on the horizon.I’m reluctant to leave, since it means returning to my old life without Alec there.He really is gone now, and nothing will be the same again.

As I leave the warm embrace of the swirling water, the fresh morning air sends a wave of goose bumps across my body.Music from Lucas’s house down the street continues to play in the background.

“I can’t believe they’re still going,” I say, grabbing two large towels from a chair on the porch.

“Yeah, it’ll go on for days.It’s a big deal, new leaders.It doesn’t happen every day,” Amirah says, taking a towel from my hand.

“Will you join them?”

She shrugs.“Traditionally, girls aren’t allowed—only the guys in The Brotherhood.”

“For real?”My eyebrows raise.“I’d have thought, being the new king’s sister ...”

“Comes with literally zero special privileges.”Amirah sighs until a glint of mischief lights her eyes.“But watch me go and visit, anyway.”

I frown, shaking my head.There are so many underlining rules of The Brotherhood that I’m still trying to figure out.Women play such a small role in their world, something that I don’t agree with, and I have no idea how I’m going to fit in with them.

I slip into my worn-out jeans and Gage’s hoodie.His woodsy scent still clings to the fabric.

“Make sure you keep me updated, and don’t be gone long,” Amirah says, pulling me in for a tight hug.

“Okay, got it.”

One of Amirah’s drivers gives me a ride back over the tracks, dropping me off in front of the trailer park.Sunshine pierces the clouds, bathing the trailers in an orange glow.The scraping sound of the dirt beneath my soles is a constant reminder of the distance I’m putting between myself and Gage, Lucas, and Hazen.They’ve been my anchors since Alec went missing.

Coming back here hurts like hell, because everywhere I look, I see him.Memories flood at every corner, all revolving around Alec.Tears well behind my eyes.I just want him here with me.To go back in time and give him one last hug, tell him I love him more than anything in this world.But I can’t, and that’s like a knife to my chest.He’s really gone.

Rubbing my eyes, I yawn.I just want to get home and go to sleep.To let dreams take me away from reality, even for a few hours.

The screen door to our trailer creaks as I pull it back and twist the knob on the main door.It opens and I shake my head.Doesn’t she ever learn?No locks.Anyone could walk straight into our trailer.

Darkness surrounds me, and the smell of something burned lingers in the air.Soft snores come from the couch, and I sigh in relief.I never know what I’ll walk in to—she’s usually on a bad high or a good one or sleeping it off.Thank God for the latter.

Pulling out my phone, I flick on the flashlight and shut the door behind me, sliding the lock into place.Mom stirs on the couch, her blanket falling to the ground.I move as quietly as I can, picking up the blanket and gently placing it over her.

The light from my phone shines down on her.Sweat beads on her forehead, but her body trembles.She’s probably coming down from one of her benders.I hate that she puts herself through this—that the drugs have become her only source of relief.I’ll never forgive Lucas’s mother for giving her that first hit and kicking off the avalanche that was our family’s downfall.

Mom stirs and her eyes fly open.She grabs my wrist, digging in her nails before her eyes soften slightly.The more time that passes, the more I forget who she was before, how much she loved me and Alec and would do anything for us.Before the drugs became her priority and she forgot about her kids.

“Where’s Alec?”she asks and my heart twists.

I kneel on the carpet in front of the couch and take a deep breath.Here goes nothing.

“Remember, I told you that Alec, he’s ...he’s—” My words choke my throat, and I swallow past the lump.“He’s dead.”Tears slip down my cheeks in a steady stream.

My mother shakes her head.“You’re a liar,” she hisses, rolling onto her back and looking up at the ceiling.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, my head falling against her chest.I feel its rhythm, a gentle rise and fall with each breath she takes.I wait, anticipating the push, but it never comes.

She breathes, and breathes, and soon her chest shakes as tears spill from the corners of her closed eyes down to the brown fabric of the couch below.Anguish like I’ve never seen before wrecks her face, and God, I wish we didn’t have to do this, but we do.

He’s dead.Her first baby.My brother.

I don’t know how long we stay like this for—minutes?Hours?—but eventually, when my knees ache from the hard trailer floor and my throat is raw from crying, her sobs subside into choked hiccups, stuttered with silence.

“I want to get better,” she says so softly that I think I imagined it.

I lift my head up off her chest and look into her blue eyes, the same as mine.“Really?”

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