Page 26 of Don't Let Go

I fell into bed and buried my head under my pillows. Why did I share so many intimate details with him? He was so easy to talk to. Maybe because he understood. He was in the same dead parent club, hell, he had more badges than me. At least we knew to avoid that ghastly five-letter word, sorry.

My phone buzzed on the nightstand. I sat up, saving a pillow from falling to the floor, and grabbed my phone. It was a text from Paolo.

Urgent business meeting tomorrow night @ 8. Don’t be late.

Shit. That only meant one thing. The mafia needed me to do something for them. How I loathed the ties to the mob sometimes.

Okay, see you tomorrow. Xoxo

It hurt to type that last part, but I had to keep up my appearance of affection.

Keep tomorrow night free. I have plans afterward.

Lovely. I knew what that meant. He wanted me to come over to his house so he could “have his way with me” since I needed to be such a good girlfriend and all.

Kill me now, please.

13

Tyler

I ducked into the bathroom once the lunch bell rang and hid in a stall covered in years of graffiti in various colors and handwriting. I stood in the middle of the stall to keep from having my clothes rub against whatever could be lingering on the walls and grabbed my phone from my back pocket, tapping on messages with Iris. I needed to reach out to someone who knew me and loved me.

Hey, babe. Call me when you can. I need to hear a friendly voice.

I sent a text to Quincy, too.

Hey, man. South Ridge is a shithole just like we thought. What’s going on without me?

I shoved my phone back into my pocket and left the stall. I rested my hands on the counter, leaning forward toward the mirror. My legs shook, my head pounded, and my stomach felt sick.

When I looked at my reflection, the similarities I shared with my father stared back. It felt like I was looking at him. If only I could talk to him one more time. Tell him how I truly felt. Instead, I was haunted by memories.

“Fuck me,” I muttered, turning on the sink. I splashed cold water on my face and tried to calm down.

The bell rang, mocking me. I didn’t know I was in there that long.Looks like I missed out on lunch.I ripped off a piece of paper towel, drying my face. Whatever, only three periods left until I left this hellhole and went back to “my room” in Rory’s house.

I slipped into math class and snagged a desk in the back. A couple of rows in front of me, two guys pounded fists and talked about the upcoming basketball game. They weren’t too tall, and they didn’t seem to have the right build for the sport. Maybe that was why I never thought of this school when it came to games; they were one of those teams you beat right away and forgot about.

Their talk of plays made my headache worse. I grabbed my textbook and pencil from my backpack, forcing myself to focus on something else.

A sweet laugh drew my attention from the kid and kite on the textbook's cover. The laugh belonged to Rory. She smiled and pushed a girl with blonde hair with blue streaks as they walked to their desks in the third row. Rory sat her bag on her desk and brushed her hair behind one ear. A sparkling earring shined in the sunlight streaming in through the windows before she turned her head. She locked eyes with me, and in a flash, her joy vanished.

Rory briefly waved, giving me a sorrowful smirk. The friend tilted her head and glanced in my direction. Her friend leaned in to whisper something to Rory. She grabbed her friend’s wrist, but the friend twisted free and headed in my direction.

“Hey,” she said, her hazel eyes burned bright. I sat down and looked past her to Rory, who looked horrified that her best friend was speaking to me.

“What’s up?” I asked, flipping through the textbook and praying she would leave me alone.

“Just checking out the guy living with my best friend. Making sure you’re not a freak or a serial killer.”

I scoffed, “You can tell that just by a small interaction? Does the FBI know about you?”

She inspected her perfectly pink manicured fingernails. “The stuff I know that the FBI doesn’t could fill a book.”

The way she said it sent a chill down my spine. “Okay…”

She offered me her right hand, and we shook hands like we were business partners. She didn’t let go but instead held me hostage for a moment. “You can tell a lot by a man with how he shakes a hand. I’m Chloe, by the way.”

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