Page 107 of Boy of Ruin
It was where she would become really ours.
The fifth day of May, not far away.
But she doesn’t deserve it. She doesn’t deserve to be one of us, because all she does is fucking run.
I fling off the covers, feet hitting the cold floor as I swing my legs off the bed and start pacing in the dark room, spots popping in front of my eyes as I feel dizzy.
“He can fucking look after her. They wanted each other so bad, let them handle it. If they end up dead, so fucking be it.”
There’s a long pause on the other end of the line. I slump against the wall, cold against my back as I pull the phone from my ear to see if we’re still connected. We are. Gritting my teeth, I jam the phone back against my face, start to snarl something out, but Mav is already talking.
“Fine,” he’s saying, his voice cold. “If you want to let either Jeremiah or whoever the fuck this is tear her apart, carve your baby out of her, be my fucking guest. But don’t you dare come crying to me when she’s nothing but a fucking corpse.”
I can’t breathe, the thoughts of her lips, cold and blue, of our baby, gutted from her precious womb…I can’t breathe.
“But if, on the other hand, you want to be a fucking man, I’ll send you the address. I’ll help you get her. You decide what you want to do. You decide what the fuck you can live with.” Before I can say a word, he ends the call.
I jerk the phone from my ear, gritting my teeth as I fucking hurl it across the room, where it hits the opposite wall, slides to the floor.
Somewhere on this floor, Finn starts to cry.
And sinking down to my knees, forehead against the hardwood…so do I.
I inhale the sweet smoke on the back porch, leaning against the railing as I stare off into the woods. The sun is just peaking its way up, glowing red and orange and pink past the line of trees. It’s quiet save for birds chirping, my own cough as I exhale, pulling the joint from my mouth.
Sid is sleeping.
I smile as I think about her, scrub my hand over my face.
“I love you, J.” She was looking right at me, arms still around my neck, when she said it again, before we fell asleep in each other’s arms.
J.
No one else will ever own a piece of my heart like she does. Fuck. I think she’s got more than a piece. Probably the whole fucking thing.
I inhale again, holding the smoke in my lungs as long as I can, wanting the tremor to stop today. We have the rest of the week here, but Ria and Nicolas are coming back today. I almost want to call him. Tell him to leave us the fuck alone.
All I’ve ever wanted is more alone time with her. Those moments when I had her in my bed when we were kids, holding her close to me…they were, in their own fucked up way, fucking heaven.
I hear the door creak open behind me and I turn, a smile playing along my lips. She steps through the doorway, pulling it closed behind her as she crosses her arms over her chest, her eyes still bleary with sleep. Her brown hair is pulled up into a bun, and she’s wearing my shirt.
My shirt.
It hits at her thighs and I don’t know if she has on underwear, but fuck, I’m hoping not. I want to fuck her on this porch, right here in the goddamn woods.
I want to fuck her everywhere.
“You’re up early,” she says, her voice thick with sleep.
I pull from the joint and her eyes stop casting about the forest and settle on my mouth as I form my lips into an “O” and exhale, trying—and failing—to blow out smoke rings.
She laughs, arching a brow as she shakes her head, rubbing her hands up and down her arms. “Wow,” she says, “something you can’t do.”
Fighting words. I grind the joint against the railing of the porch, then pinch it between my index finger and thumb as I throw it off into the woods without looking, still facing her.
“Maybe you need a little fucking reminder of all the things I can do.” I advance toward her, and she backs up, against the door, the easy smile leaving her face.
Her hands come to either side of her against the door, like she’s trying to hold herself steady.
