Page 37 of Havoc
My enemies took her. The only girl who ever made me want to do something more with my life. And I was too far away to do anything about it. Aimee suffered because of me.
I wrangle that regret and swallow it down. I do what I do best: bring logic to the situation and pretend I’m keeping it together for the people around me.
“Besides, if you were originally a bargaining chip for them to get to the Twisted Kings, that might still be the case now. It’s my job to figure that out.”
I drag my hands through my hair and close my eyes, trying to reconcile all the mistakes I made. All the ways I did this wrong.
“I guess some things don’t change, do they?” Aimee leans her head to look at me. “You’re still always trying to fix things, no matter how unfixable they are.”
That comment shouldn’t make me laugh, but an unamused breath comes out regardless. “It wouldn’t have come to that if I’d done more sooner. I should have known you wouldn’t have just vanished. That house was all wrong.”
Aimee tenses. “The house?”
“After you stopped writing, I had this feeling that something was off. I was overseas, so I asked Steel to swing by your father’s house. He said it was empty and there was a For Sale sign out front. My gut told me something wasn’t right, but I didn’t fucking listen. WhenGhost couldn’t trace you or your father, I should have come back sooner—”
“You had your club look for me?” Aimee rolls onto her side, her face screwing up when I turn to face her.
“Of course I did. You just stopped answering my letters. What else would I do?”
“I—” She cuts herself off as something swells in her expression. Too many emotions mix together to read any of them clearly. “Thank you.”
“You shouldn’t thank me.” My throat is tight. “It didn’t do any good.”
Her fingers brush mine with such hesitancy, I think she’ll pull away immediately. But she doesn’t. She laces her fingers through mine, her gaze drifting down to our clasped hands. And as bad as I want to roll to face her, I don’t for fear of scaring her away. I stay on my back, committing her face to memory while she stares at our hands.
“Maybe it didn’t.” She brushes her thumb over my hand. “But it’s good to know at least.”
I lift my gaze to the sky and wish that were enough.
I wish for a lot of things that aren’t possible.
But the conversation ends there. Aimee rests her head beside me until the silent desert is filled with the hum of her steady breath as she falls asleep. The night becomescolder, but I don’t move.
I can’t.
I stare at the stars and wonder why it is that I can’t just grab this hourglass and flip it. Go back in time until I’m able to fix this.
I lie in the desert until my back aches from the hard dirt and rocks. But I don’t move because I deserve to suffer for failing Aimee.
It isn’t until night has fully settled that I finally dare to roll onto my side and face her. Surprised how she still manages to look so peaceful when she sleeps. I brush a silky strand of hair off her forehead and trace the cut of a scar through her eyebrow.
Wounds I can see.
Simpler than the ones I can’t.
I lie in the darkness and make a promise to the stars that I’ll do it right this time. For her. For us.
“When do you meet with your recruiter?” Aimee snaps my picture.
She lured me to the Strip to take shots of tourists for a photography project, but every so often, she turns the camera on me.
“Next week.”
“That’s soon.” She lowers the camera, revealing a hint of a frown.
“You going to miss me?” I wink.
That’s enough to get a pretty little eye roll out of her. Aimee shoves my arm and grunts her annoyance.
