Page 94 of Fight for You

I want to live.

For myself. For Mariah. For my mom and Titan. For Cade. Because when I thought about taking those pills? I didn't stop because I couldn't get the lid off. He's the reason I didn't go through with it.

He's always been my reason.

I have to face this, because I can't let him carry it alone anymore.

Chapter Nineteen

Cade

Then (Age Twenty-One)

"Michael Kincaid?" an LAPD officer asks, flashing his badge as soon as I pull open the front door. He's dressed in black slacks and a blue button-down, with a radio and his gun clipped to his belt. I've seen a lot of cops lately. I have no clue if he's one that I've already spoken with. I'm guessing not.

"That's me," I mutter, staring at him through bleary eyes. It's been a week since Titan and Jana were murdered. I'm exhausted. I haven't slept because January isn't sleeping. She isn't eating. Or talking. Or doing much of anything other than lying in my bed, staring at the ceiling. I thought maybe the double funeral two days ago would get a response out of her, but it didn't.

She sat in the first pew beside me and didn't say a word. She stared blankly into space, not even acknowledging anyone who stopped by to offer their condolences. Mandy Wright cried on her shoulder, for fuck's sake, and she didn't even move.

She's broken, and I don't know how to help her. I don't even know how to help myself. I'm drowning in guilt and grief and fucking worry for my girl. I feel like I'm going to break in half under the weight of it all.

"I'm Detective Whitten," the officer—detective—says, shoving his badge back into his pocket. He gives me a smile, but it doesn't meet his brown eyes. Those are carefully blank. "Do you have a few minutes?"

I glance over my shoulder into the house, but January hasn't emerged from my bedroom. Not that I expected she would have. I think the world could end around her right now, and she'd still be right there, staring at the fucking ceiling.

"I got her," Quan says from his spot on the couch.

I jerk my chin in a nod and then step outside and close the door. "What do you want, Detective Whitten?"

"I have a couple of follow-up questions if you have a few minutes to answer them."

"Fine," I mumble and scrub a hand down my face before dropping down into Ma Lucia's favorite rocking chair. I tilt my head back and close my eyes for a second, trying to get my mind in working order.

LAPD has had a million questions, but I don't know how to answer them. Telling them the truth—that Titan was dealing for Kaleo to ensure his little sister got to attend UCLA and Kaleo left us the fuck alone—isn't an option. She's already devastated. I don't want her blaming herself. I don't want her blaming me. And I'm fucking terrified that's exactly what's going to happen. There's no denying that this is my fucking fault. There's no running away from it. Her family is dead, and I'm the reason.

"I understand you told responding officers that you noticed an SUV circling the block approximately ten minutes before Jana and Titan James were killed. Is that correct?" Whitten studies me intently, paying close attention to every move I make.

"Yeah." A ripple of pain radiates out from my chest. "A black Honda SUV. It was creeping down the block. I noticed it in front of my house."

"You ever see the vehicle before that night?"

I shake my head.

"Anything stand out on the vehicle? A license plate? Damage? Anything at all?"

"No, nothing except for the fact that it was too new to belong in this neighborhood."

"You get a look at the driver?"

I shake my head again. "The windows were tinted, and it was dark."

Whitten frowns, his dark brows winging together. "Were you aware that Mr. James was in a dispute with the Southside Diablos?" he asks, making it sound like Titan was at war with them or some shit.

"They were targeting him," I mutter, even though I'm the one who gave them that information to begin with. Every fucking thing they know about this case, I've told them.

"Right. For vandalizing one of their businesses. You were aware of this?" he asks.

"He told me they caught him breaking out windows," I say, those ripples spreading. I already know where he's going with this line of questioning. I've been asking myself the same question for the last week. Why didn't I put two and two together sooner? Why didn't I stop for five goddamn seconds to think about what that fucking SUV was doing creeping down the block? Why didn't I do anything that would have saved him and Jana?

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