Page 40 of Psycho

I opened my mouth, saying the words I felt deep inside my soul, “I fucked up.”

Travis frowned, inhaling and filling his lungs with smoke. “You’re you, Sawyer. Fucking up is what you do.” The truth, and yet the words stung me like a thousand bees.

Yes, I was Sawyer Salvatore, and I fucked up on more occasions than not, but you know what? This…this was a first.

This was the first time that I cared.

Chapter Nineteen – Travis

I was not looking forward to break. Even though we’d all made plans to end Thanksgiving break early and return here as soon as we could—the Friday after, when the meals were done and everybody was sated when it came to Turkey and stuffing and all that for another year—I still didn’t like it.

Being away from Ash, even if only for a few days, was going to be torturous. Plus, she was spending the break with Declan and Will. I guess she didn’t have family, so her mother was all too thrilled to accept Dean Briggs’s invitation to have Thanksgiving at his house. Will came through on that, at least.

I suppose it was good for Ash to be with one of us rather than none of us. Still, though, I strongly loathed the fact I’d have to go with Sawyer.

Tick, tick, tick. The time was ticking. Markus was going to help, but even knowing that he would come wasn’t enough sometimes. I knew it was smarter to wait—Markus had more ins and outs than I did; he knew where I could have a little one-on-one time with Ray where no one would interrupt us. Oh, I itched for that day, and it would come soon enough.

It was a few days before Thanksgiving break when I had to get up in the middle of the night. I couldn’t sleep. I felt restless. So I rolled off the bed I shared with Ash and Declan as quietly as I could, wearing nothing but jeans as I headed down the stairs and into the kitchen. After unlocking the patio door, I stepped outside and reached into my pocket. My fingers touched the worn case of cigarettes the moment I realized I wasn’t alone.

I was alone on the patio, but in the backyard—which was oddly small, considering how big the house itself was—I wasn’t. Standing in the grass, leaning against one of the few aged trees on the property, was the man of the month himself.

Ray Ruiz.

Ray fucking Ruiz was here, not even twenty feet away, holding onto what looked like a small box, and I was shirtless, shoeless, basically offense-less and defenseless since it was just me and him. Right here, right now, he had the upper hand, only because he caught me off-guard. He could’ve had me, if he wanted. He could’ve stood closer to the house, jumped me, maybe even killed me—though I would’ve given him all the fight I had in me.

Tonight was a clear night, the silver moonlight shining down on us. I decided not to be startled by his unexpected presence, instead focusing on pulling out a cigarette and lighting it up. The tobacco helped me relax.

That, and it helped me realize how stupid it would be to fight him right now. No, coming from my family, you learned not to take chances needlessly. Sometimes chances paid off, but most of the time they didn’t. This wasn’t a movie where you could constantly go against the odds and continuously pull whatever stunt off. This was real life, and in real life, failure might lead someone back to the family.

Needless to say, anyone being led back to the family was the biggest no-no there was.

After inhaling a deep lungful, I glared at him. “I’m surprised it took you this long to show yourself to one of us.” I exhaled slowly, deliberately, playing it cool to get him to come closer. Maybe if he got closer, I could figure something out. Trip him, pray I moved faster than him, slam his head on the glass table a few feet away. The world around us was asleep; there would be no witnesses.

“I said I would give her time,” Ray’s heavily accented voice spoke, and he took a step forward, away from the tree. No longer completely in the shadows, I saw that he held a shoebox of some kind.

I wasn’t stupid enough to actually think there was a pair of shoes in there, though.

“And I’ve been busy,” Ray went on, tapping the top of the shoebox.

“Plan to win Ash back with presents?” Though I spoke, I knew whatever present sat in that box wasn’t a good one.

“She doesn’t want me to hurt any of you,” Ray said, moving ever closer. The closer he got, the more I felt the urge to rip out his insides and strangle him with them. “So I’ve been good. I haven’t killed any of you pretty rich boys yet. Once she comes back to me, that will change.”

So Ray thought Ash would see how wrong she’d been this whole time and crawl back to him, and he’d welcome her with open arms. The delusional fucktard.

I gave him a slow smirk. “Trust me, Ray—or is it the Midtown Strangler?”

“Either one is fine.”

“I’m just going to call you Ray for the sake of time, then,” I said, tapping my cigarette off to the side. My bare feet drew me to the edge of the patio, though I did not step into the grass. Ray stood less than ten feet away now. So close, and yet still so far. “You think you know us, but I can guarantee that you don’t. For example, did you know I chained Ash up in my room?”

Through the darkness, I could see his jaw set, and the hand that wasn’t holding onto the shoebox clenched into a fist. “Pendejo,” Ray swore.

“Oh, wait. So you didn’t know?” Okay, I might’ve said it purely for the sake of riling him up, but still. “Huh.”

Ray glared at me. It wasn’t too long before he said, “You…you’re not like the others.” Silence for a while as he took in my relaxed stance, my expression, and the words I’d just told him. “You’re like me.”

Funny how monsters recognized each other. It wasn’t like we wore a flashing neon sign that said it or had special handshakes or secret nametags. There were no codewords in this game of life and death. Only instinct.

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