Page 12 of Brat Baby
Well, hearts go in chests, so that’s where this one is going.
Five minutes later, I have a stuffed bear with the heart shoved unceremoniously into the chest through the slit in the back and I’m slowly stitching the opening shut. With only one pricked finger, I finally use the tiny little scissors to cut the thread.
Turning Teddy over, I stare down at his little gray face with all his patches. He gives me zero clue as to what to do now. So, I do the only logical thing.
I bring him up to my chest and give him a squeeze and then freeze as the quietthump thumpof a heartbeat emanates from his chest.
Moving only my eyes, I seek out the handwritten note from Xavier.
For the nights that I can’t be with you.
Is this… is this his heartbeat?
I bite my lip to try and stave off those fucking tears, but it’s no use. They roll down my cheeks like waterfalls I shouldn’t be chasing.
Chapter 7
Hudson
Darcy and I pull up in a convoy in front of Derek’s place, our car doors slamming simultaneously and echoing in the early evening air. I wait for him by the driveway, hands jammed into my pockets and head feeling completely rotten.
There have only been two messages in our group chat today. One from Derek to let us know she is in his Calculus 101 class. And then mine to tell them she is in my first-year macro class.
The fact that we have all left her last message in the brand-new group chat we have with her on read is fucking killing me.
Emery:This has all been a huge misunderstanding. I swear I didn’t lie to you. Please, can we just talk? We can work this out.
I’ve read it more times than I can count, each time hurting a little more. Death by a thousand cuts.
How must she be feeling. Alone? Tossed to the side? Abandoned? The persistent ache in my chest swells to an untenable discomfort, and I force a deep breath to try to ease it.
Darcy barely slows as he gets closer, forcing me to turn and match his stride or get left on the street.
How did this morning go so completely wrong? I’ve played back every scenario, every alternate choice we could have made, now knowing that the cards had already been stacked, without our knowledge.
Had we acted like assholes? Yes, absolutely. But with the dataset we had at the time, it was a reasonable reaction, considering it looked like she had stalked us to our place of work. However, now that we know the truth… This whole situation has turned into a fucking shit show.
Xavier’s car is blocking Derek’s in the driveway. As we pass, an image of keying the full-body length of his sedan for getting us into this situation intrudes into my mind and elicits a smile. Fuck, that would feel good. It would feel even better if I thought he cared about his car. Fucking asshole. How could he do this to us?
There must be a way to fix this. She is meant to be ours.
With each step, my leather boots thump on the concrete drive until we jog up the few stone steps that are a part of the retainingwall. The silence remains until we enter through the front door and step in to find a silent house.
Anyone who knows Derek knows his house is never silent if he is in it. There is always something on the television, and by something, I mean a sport of any kind.
If I had even a modicum of charity right now, I’d be worried for Xavier. I thought Derek was going to murder him, right then and there in his office, after finding the altered contract. Which would have been fucking terrible on all counts, but most especially because I am confident that Xavier is the only one of us who knows how to dispose of a body.
Not that I’ve ever seen him do it or that he has ever mentioned such a thing. It’s just the air that he has about him and in the vague details he has given us about his past. I wouldn’t put it past him to be one of those crazy people who watch serial killer documentaries for their educational purposes.
Probably critiques them too.
I shoot a concerned look at Darcy, whose heavy expression lifts for a fraction of a second before he speaks. “You don’t think one of them has killed the other, do you?”
A sour chuckle escapes at our similar thoughts. “No, Derek has more restraint than that.”
As we come out of the hallway and into the living area, I spot Derek over by the poker table, shoulder leaning against the window that looks out onto the front lawn, and a glass filled with bourbon in his hand. He doesn’t acknowledge that we have arrived, even though he surely watched us walk up.
Xavier has his ass planted on the couch, no drink in sight, as he scrolls on his phone one-handed, all fucking nonchalant, like he hasn’t jeopardized all our careers. Like the corner of his mouth isn’t all swollen, with a small cut on his lower lip from the last time we were all in the same room together.
