Page 162 of Deceit

Red fury courses through my veins as I glare at the motherfucker who won’t let me be. Who’s watched me go from hell and back while at my side.

“There never was one,” I sneer before drawing a long hit off my smoke. “And no…I don’t want to.”

“You sure?” Kyson flicks his Zippo again and lights his own end of his fag. “There’s no takebacks after this.”

I bow my head over my bent legs and strive to listen to what he’s saying, except I’ve made up my mind. The more I harp on Emmy, the worse I’m going to get. She’s the only thing I liked about me, and now that’s gone.

“Positive.”

Kyson doesn’t press any further, taking another hit of his own smoke, and just sits with me on the floor.

Just like when we were kids.

This isn’t easy for him either. Shit, nothing really has been and you’d think we’d be used to it by now.

And while I struggle, he handles it like a damn king and I envy him.

Not for his light red hair that women seem to dig or the patience of a saint mixed with the hard truth he speaks but because he’s powerful. He can deal and move. He is able to live on and press through trials and tribulations.

I stab the shit to death, and it’s not even the main problem.

It’s that I’ll never get over this.

Her.

Us.

What we had and what I’ve imagined for our future.

It’s dead.

And so am I.

We finish our cigarettes, and I try to go back to bed afterward but fail. I imagine both of Emmy’s kids being brought up without the love and affection she would’ve given them. How they would be deprived of who she is and never truly know her.

Everyone should know someone like Emmy. Someone who glows in the dark during the bleakest of times. A person who demands to make you aware that they care.

That you’re loved.

That you’re not alone.

Maybe one day, when they’re old enough, I can tell them that I knew her. I can describe the kind of person she was and that they care that inside them.

From afar, I can always look out for them and be somewhat of a guardian angel if they ever get into trouble.

I can’t protect Emmy anymore, but I can safeguard the pieces of her that are left behind.

The remnants of my heart.

“Dude, Mills…donottell me you kidnapped those babies?”

Kyson and I stand grounded near Mills’s door, staring at him with a blue towel over one shoulder and a baby laid upon it while he pats its back.

Gazing around his bachelor pad, I find two car seats, two bags, two high chairs near the dining room table, and various little jungle gym-looking things on the floor.

Kyson slowly steps forward, and I latch my focus back to Mills, his eyes wide in surprise that we just waltzed into his place.

And for good reason.

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