Page 140 of Crew Princess
My house. That’s what he’d said first.
“I’ll have water.”
Marie looked at me, and I said, “The same, please.”
“Perfect!” She clapped her hands twice before heading into the kitchen, leaving Stephen behind. Taz and Race had migrated over, and I could see she was still nervous too. Her entire face was pink—a light rose. Like the wine. She was doing deep-breathing exercises, her hand pressing against her stomach. Race had zoned out, for once not tuned into her.
Fuck this awkward stuff. Why not go for more awkward?
“Wanna chat, Race?” I motioned outside.
His eyebrows flew up. So did everyone else’s, but Cross’ dad looked relieved.
“Uh.” Race coughed, glancing at Taz before moving forward. “Yeah. Sure.”
Cross met my gaze, and his hand snaked out, grabbing my arm as I passed. I paused, just enough for him to run his thumb down the inside of my arm.
Then Race and I stepped outside.
They had a hanging porch swing, and Race sat there.
As soon as I sat beside him, a good space between us, he breathed out loudly. “Fucking hell. Thank you for this.” He stretched his legs, his feet resting on the bottom of the porch railing. “I can normally handle tension—dealt with it enough in my life—but being with Taz’s family on the day my dad was arrested…” He gave me a shaky grin. “Thank you.”
I’d been feeling that same need to escape. I tucked my hands under my legs. “You know what I’m going to ask.” That was my segue into the awkward conversation.
“Yeah.” He grew quiet, turned toward the street, but I doubted he was seeing it. “I’m okay. I am. I’m just—fuuuuuuck.” He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. His head fell, and he caught it in his hands. “Fuck, Bren. Fuck.” He groaned, sitting upright again. “I’m so sorry about everything. I know all of it. Drake called me this morning, said he’d talked to you and told me what he said. I—there are no words.”
I felt my eyes widen. This was not how I thought it was going to go.
“Nothing happened to me,” I said softly. “I’m worried about you. You’re in our group. How are you doing?”
He shook his head. “I…” He coughed, his voice raspy. “I can’t answer that. I’m here. I’m doing the boyfriend thing, but...” He fell quiet for a long while. “Can I say I’m relieved? Can I say I’m okay with him being in prison? Can I say...can I say I’m glad my mom is away from him? That he got what he deserved after what he did to her? Can I say all of that and still be a good person?”
I had no answers to those questions.
I sat. I was silent. I listened. That was what he needed.
“Can I say I wonder if he’s going to share a cell with your dad? And if he does, what your dad will do? I mean, fuck. Drake told me the Harley business was just a front. They maybe sold a bike a year. The rest was drugs. How the hell did that even start? When did it start? Who’s he connected to? Who was he getting that shit from? I mean, there’s always someone, right?”
He turned to me, but it was a question I couldn’t answer.
His voice came out hoarse. “I’m really sorry he was trying to target you, and I’m really happy it was your brother who got him. Good karma, right? Am I a piece-of-shit son for thinking all of this? What’s my role now? Go visit him? Try to pretend he’s not a piece of shit? Fuck. Who do I go with? My aunt or my mom? His ex-wife or his girlfriend? Or his ex-girlfriend? Who the hell knows about that one.”
He fell silent again.
“And Alex,” he added suddenly. “I’m not a fan of my cousin, but I think we know where he got the drugs last semester. Hard to hate him, knowing it was my dad who was supplying him. I feel half to blame.”
I shook my head. “You aren’t. You know that, right?”
“Does it matter? I don’t feel like it does.” He looked over at me. “How’d you handle it? Your dad went in for murder. I mean, how’d you handle that?”
I shrugged.
The situation was different. Iwasto blame.
I murmured, “Just get through it, I guess. Cross—he helped.”
“Yeah.” He turned back, gazing at that street but not seeing it.
