Page 85 of Vicious Sentiments

On the lips.

It wasn’t a sexual kiss but one laced with fear and a promise. I savored it and now I keep replaying it in my mind like I’m going toneed to remember it. It’s morbid, but I can’t shake it, considering I don’t even know what Julian’s lips feel like. The idea that I might never get to know is enough to drag me into a dark place where not even my numb mode can reach.

Dillon gets up, and I’m expecting him to leave, but he wraps around the table and pulls out the chair next to Margo. He scoots closer to her and I see his arm shift in a way that makes me think he’s holding her hand under the table.

Margo makes a closed mouth smile that doesn’t reach her eyes but it seems to bring her back to the moment.

“Sorry you guys,” she says and fluffs her hair.

“Don’t apologize,” Dillon’s voice is lower than usual, and while I know he’s trying to console her, there is something about it that makes my skin crawl. He doesn’t say it like a son, but like a husband.

* * *

The odd look in Dillon’s eyes, as if Margo was a piece of steak, stays with me for the rest of the night until I’m alone in my room with all the lights on.

Something about the dark doesn’t feel right without Julian and Cape watching over me. I’m contemplating taking the keys Julian left and making my way down the beach to his house, as if being there might make me feel closer to him. I don’t think he would mind if I curled up in his bed so much as he would about me being alone in his house.

I don’t really know what’s going on, and Dillon’s words that Madison wastakenplays in my head. He was so worried about Marney even walking down the beach. Does the same apply to me now? Should I be more cautious? I have no idea if their business is warring with another or if they are being targeted. All I have to go onare movies about the cartel. I don’t know the first thing about what happens in arms dealing.

I decide against it and am about to lay back down when I hear a yelp. My paranoid mind immediately thinks of Marney, but I remember she’s at a sleepover and hopefully safe.

I strain to hear anything else but there is nothing. With furrowed brows, I sink under the covers and close my eyes. Then I hear another sound. A thud. Followed by loud voices. I sit upright quickly and crawl out of the bed, freezing by the door, not sure what I’m hearing. Margo? The only ones in the house are me, her, and Dillon.

I crack the door and the voices grow louder. There’s another thud and whatever it is causes the floor to vibrate beneath my feet. Stupidly, I go towards the noise. It’s definitely Margo. Did something happen? Did she get a call?

I find myself almost breaking out into a run down the long hallway to her room. The double doors are cracked and there’s a dim light. I can finally make out what she’s saying.

“Inappropriate. I don’t know what would give you the idea—”

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so, so sorry.” It’s Dillon and he sounds panicked, desperate.

I edge closer, hovering right outside the door, unsure if I should let them know I’m here or not. They aren’t making any sense and I don’t know if it’s about Julian or not.

“FUCK!” Dillon screams suddenly, and then there’s another thud. I jump, startled and grab the handle to steady myself. I accidentally fall inwards, pushing the door open and they both whip around to look at me.

Margo is in a nightgown, standing by the window near her bed, and Dillon is in just a pair of boxer shorts and crew socks. Margo runs her hands down the sides of her nightgown when she sees me, raising her chin.

“Peach,” Is all she says, before Dillon looks right through me, ignoring me, and puts his fist through the wall. It crumples the drywall next to two similar looking holes and makes the same thud sound I’ve been hearing.

I startle again and I have to give credit to Margo, she doesn’t even flinch and she’s standing not more than two feet away from him.

“Everything is fine,” she says to me, ignoring his outburst and stepping around him. “You can go back to bed.”

My eyes dart between the two of them, still unsure what I’m seeing.

“Julian?” I question.

She shakes her head. “I haven’t heard anything. Everything is fine for now, you can go—”

“I’m so sorry,” Dillon repeats, turning around and wrapping himself in a hug over his bare chest. He’s that ugly shade of red and it’s spread down his neck, and his eyes are panicked. “Margo, please. I didn’t mean to,” he cries at her back, and I realize he has tears streaming down his face.

He tears at his icy hair and falls to his knees. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m stupid.” He socks his chest. “Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.” He socks his chest with every reiteration.

My eyes are like saucers and I’m frozen to the spot, watching the display with my mouth hanging open. Margo doesn’t turn around though and steps up to me, cupping my cheek and holding my eyes for a second.

“Go back to bed,” she says.

I nod absently, unable to look away from the complete meltdown happening behind her. Dillon looks nothing more than a ten year old throwing a tantrum.

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