Page 90 of The Devils' Darling

I jump at the curse.

“What?”

“I just remembered it’s your birthday tomorrow.”

“Oh, yeah.” I shrug. “Not that it matters.”

“Of course it matters, D. Why would it not?”

“You think Mackenzie and Tino are going to want to celebrate? Tino might, if I promise him a belly full of booze and drugs, but Mackenzie isn’t going to be interested.”

“She might be,” he presses. “We should at least tell her. She probably doesn’t know what day it is.”

I scrub my hands over my face. “You just want an excuse to see her.”

He pouts and adjusts his nose ring. “Maybe. And what’s so wrong with that?”

He’s right. There isn’t anything wrong with it. “Just don’t pressure her into partying, okay? She’s got way more important things on her mind.”

“Maybe she’ll appreciate having a distraction.”

I cock an eyebrow. “A distraction from her mom dying? I think it’s going to take something a bit more important than me turning twenty-two.”

My dad’s been grieving, too, and I almost feel guilty about it. I’d doubted his feelings toward Lucia had been real, but they clearly were. The clean-up after the bombing and the investigations have kept him busy, but he’s a shell of a man. He’s lost two women he loved in the space of a year, and it’s done a number on him. I keep putting myself in his place, imagining we’d lost Mackenzie instead of her mom, and find myself with unaccustomed sympathy toward him.

Kirill gets to his feet and puts his hand out to me to pull me up.

“Maybe,” he says, “but sometimes it’s good to have something that’s just for fun.”

I exhale and take his hand. It’s warm and dry and solid, and he yanks me to my feet. Sometimes I forget how much Kirill has been through. His dad died recently as well, but it’s different for him. Grigoriy was a bastard who tormented Kirill his entire life, and while I’m sure Kirill has mixed emotions about the man’s death, I’m fairly sure one of those emotions is relief.

“Fine,” I relent, “but if she’s not interested, we don’t push her, okay? I don’t want her feeling bad because she doesn’t want to celebrate my dumb-ass birthday.”

“She will. She loves you,” he reassures me.

I smack him on the shoulder. “Thanks, dude. She loves you, too.”

He nods. “Yeah, she’s just a little caught up in her own shit right now. We have to make sure she knows we’re still here for her, whenever she’s ready.”

Chapter 40

Mackenzie

I lose track of time. I lie in my bed, curled up on my side, crying against my pillow. I drift into sleep, still crying, and then when I wake and it all comes back to me, the tears start again.

Flashbacks haunt me. Seeing my mother in that pile of rubble. Or Nataniele taking her lifeless hand. Or, worst of all, the funeral. I was so out of it, medicated to get me through it. I had to pick music, and I don’t know if I chose right. The church had been full of flowers because that’s the only thing I was certain of. I wanted it to be beautiful for her. The way she was when she was alive.

I never knew it was possible to cry so much without eventually running dry.

The guys do their best to look after me, but I’m closed off from the world. They bring me food and drinks and help me sit up while they force tiny sips past my lips and morsels onto my tongue. They ensure I take my meds, too, though a part of me—the self-destructive side—doesn’t want to. I want my physical body to break down in the same way my heart has. The only thing that stops me is knowing how hard my mom worked to keep my epilepsy at bay. My condition was the sole focus of her life for such a long time, and it’s also at least partly why my parents ended up in so much debt. To give up now feels too much like I’m ignoring their sacrifice.

Camile has come to see me, too, but I can tell she’s frustrated by my lack of interaction. She wants me to shake myself out of it and come to the bar and hang out, but it’s the last thing I want. I’ve been on the phone to Lola, too, and told her what’s happened. She knew my mom, so she was upset as well. She tried to convince me to return home, but how can I? There’s nothing there for me now.

Sleep feels like my only escape, but I’m plagued with nightmares. All the terrible things I’ve gone through come back to haunt me—Paxton and Grigoriy and my dead parents. I dream my mom and dad are in cahoots with those two evil men, and my heart breaks over and over as they conspire to hurt me. I know Dom sneaks into my room at night to hold me, and though a part of me wants to be left alone, I also appreciate his presence. I think he knows what I need better than I do.

A knock comes at my door, and then it opens. For one crazy moment, I think I’m going to see my mom walking through, but then my brain does that thing where it reminds me she’s gone, and my heart breaks all over again.

It’s Dom and Kirill. I haven’t seen much of Tino, and I’m feeling guilty about that too. He was hurt in the blast, and he’s still recovering. I need to make more of an effort.

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