Page 121 of See Me

“Yeah, I’m good. You good?”

He nods. “Yep. I’m good.”

“Good.”

“Good.”

We both laugh.

He gathers up the sandwich in a paper towel. “I actually have an assignment to work on. I’m just gonna go back to my desk and work if you don’t mind.”

“Sure. Of course.” I wave him off, preferring to not struggle to keep up a conversation at the moment.

I take another bite of the tasteless food and stare at my phone screen. He stopped trying to contact me days ago. I never answered any of the messages but it was validating to my weakened self-esteem to see his efforts. The last thing he said was he would put the rest of Tuesday’s things in the apartment and I could stay there as long as I needed to find a new place.

I don’t know if it’s an angle he’s trying to play at orif he’s just given up. Not that I gave him any other choice.

I’ve been pinned with many labels in my life. Princess being the most popular, and honestly he’s the only one I let get away with it. Rich bitch, Ginger and all the variations to go along with it; Loser, Loner, the list goes on. But Gold digger? That was a new one.

I spent the last four years working toward the only goal I ever truly wanted, hoping when I got there, I would have an overabundance of paths to choose from, only to find myself on a narrow road with my only choices being forward and backward. Not even a choice, if you think about it.

Forward was my only option and the path was littered with obstacles. There was a tunnel up ahead on the road and, just when I hit a good stride, a rockslide blocked the tunnel completely. Now I’m digging through the rubble one rock at a time to get back on track. All I would have to do is go home, concede to their demands, and I wouldn’t have to struggle. If I was a gold digger, I wouldn’t be anywhere near the rock bottom I find myself in.

I’ve got enough money saved up for a down payment and first month's rent somewhere, anywhere, that isn’t owned by Luca. I open my phone and start a search for apartment listings. I throw my half-eaten sandwich down when a thought thunders through my head. I never googled him. If Enzo won’t tell me, and I never want to see his dumb face again, I might as well see what I can piece together myself.

I type his name in and click on the first result.

I cover my mouth with my hand when a mugshot pops up with the headlineLoco Luca Arrested for Manslaughter.

I drop my phone and push away from my desk trying to put some distance between myself and the look in his eyes in that picture.

Luca’s a murderer.

THIRTY-SIX

OPEN WIDE

“I don’t carehow you do it, just make it happen.”

I drop the phone, not having even lifted out of my fighting stance, and continue torturing the bag like it holds some deep, dark secret that will fix everything if I don’t let up. Just a few more minutes and I’ll break it. All the information the world has been holding back, clues I could’ve used years ago, just waiting behind the thick leather shield to be spilled and collected. Everything I need to fix my fucked-up life, if I just keep going. The thought of it got me through years of training, years of chaos.

But it never breaks. Not once in all the years I’ve tried to crack it. There are never any answers. Just enough rage burnedoff and muscle fatigue to get me through another day. And even that hasn’t worked in the last month.

Once I figured out she was with Enzo, I stopped trying to contact her. At least I know she’s safe. I didn’t want her living in her car again, since there’s still a killer on the loose. And besides, she’s better than that. I know that but my dumbass mouth didn’t get the memo when it started spouting off all that gold digger bullshit.

She comes from money and probably has thirty different paths she could’ve taken to stay in good with her folks and have all the money she needs. But she chose to be true to herself, the hard road, no question, and I crucified her for it.

Ella has every right to hate me, to never want to see me again. Enzo gave me that news as gently as he could. Surprising for someone who hid her for two days before he admitted to her staying with him. And don’t even get me started on the dogs. I won’t apologize for using the only bargaining chip I have. Enzo can keep his dogs if he gets Ella to the apartment tonight.

I just want to apologize and tell her why I reacted the way I did. Then she’s free to walk away and never lay eyes on me again. That’s the last thing I want, but it’s more than I deserve.

Coach walks in the gym door and thank fuck. My arms weigh a ton each and there’s no way I would’ve stopped without the interruption. My gut tells me a few more punches and I’d have my answers, my head screamsyou can’t be fixed, you’re too broken.

I throw a towel over my head and pace the gym floor to slow my breathing. My arms are so fatigued they hang loosely at my sides. After a few minutes, I’m able to lift them to wipe my face and throw the towel over my shoulder.

Benny walks to the sound system and turns it down. I don’t remember turning it on or hearing any music for however long I’ve been in here. He opens the closet door and comes back outwith the first aid kit. I furrow my brows in confusion before he points to my hands, and I see blood dripping off my knuckles.

“Gloves, kid. You can’t train that hard without gloves.”

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