Page 175 of Unwrapping Deviance

“Why? So I can fail her again?”

I sigh. “You didn’t fail her.”

“What if we didn’t get her back? What if Jameson kept his mouth shut and let his brothers have Mira? What if—”

“A certain asshole not that long ago told me to stop with the what ifs. He was right. Now, I’m telling you. Mira is home. That’s all that matters.”

“Until she realizes—”

“She won’t. I can promise you she won’t. That’s not Mira.”

Chris sighs and hangs his head. “I hate myself. I don’t deserve her.”

“You don’t,” I murmur honestly. “I don’t either. Neither of us deserve her, but she’s chosen us and we’re going to be everything she ever fucking wants and needs. Understand? You’re in this now, Chris. She’s our baby. It’s our job to protect her. So, pull your shit together, go upstairs and stay with her. I’m going to get food.”

He nods, rubbing both hands back through his hair. “You’re right.”

I don’t bother saying I fucking know but let him jog up the stairs to where we can hear the faint rush of water in Mira’s room. I wait until I hear her door open and close before leaving the house.

With Dirk and Boyd dead and Lucy behind bars, and the whole town now knowing the truth of Lucy’s lies from all those years ago, I’m not worried about leaving the house. I do lock the door behind me before jogging to the truck.

I turn the ignition and roll through a town I could navigate with my eyes shut and yet it has never looked so unfamiliar. Every street from my childhood stands exactly as is, right down to the trees along the streets, every fire hydrant, every sign post. The Wong house still has the yellow front door. The Gordans have the same plastic play structure out front seventeen years later. The colors have faded, but it’s still there.

It’s amazing and a little sad to see so much of everything I used to know still there like time never passed. As if it just continued on without me. Or maybe, nothing changed because it can’t. The people raising the new generation raise them the same way the generation before. The format never changes andso, nothing changes. The cycle of fear and conformation will continue forever.

“Fuck you, Jefferson,” I mutter under my breath as I take the turn down Pine Road and head in the direction of the diner.

Cooking takes too long, and I want to be with Mira. I want to focus on her.

Only a group of three boys sit in one of the corner booths when I pull open the door and step inside. I don’t recognize them, but I lock eyes with the one in the middle, a tall, broad kid with intense brown eyes. The other two seem deep in conversation and barely glance up until the tiny blonde with the big, green eyes hurries over to greet me with a pretty smile.

“Hi! Table for one?”

All three watch me like they expect me to do something shady. Like I can’t be trusted standing so close to the girl.

Sister?

Perhaps, but doubtful. Not the way the three are braced possessively to attack.

The girl’s grin widens as if she knows exactly what I’m thinking. “Don’t worry about them.”

“Boy ... friends?” I guess, adding the plural just in case.

Cherrie, as her name tag labels her, flushes scarlet and quickly drops her gaze. “Friends. I guess friends who are boys. Just friends.”

I don’t know why I’m asking. I really don’t care and I will not be seeing these people again to get a follow up.

I give Cherrie my order and take a seat at the counter while I wait. Whatever song is playing is turned down so low, it’s barely audible over the grinding of the ceiling fan and the hiss of frying meat through the pickup window.

Cherrie has abandoned me. She’s drifted off to stand at the table with the three boys and not a single one of them is looking at her like they consider her a friend.

I ignore them. It’s not my business. Instead, I turn my attention to the notification on my phone. The emails from work I’ve been avoiding. The several missed calls from an unknown number that didn’t even bother leaving a voicemail. Clients most likely. But I have Elliot from work handling my files and my outgoing message gives his name and number in case anyone needs me.

I bite back my annoyance and stuff my phone back into my pocket; the only reason I even looked was in case Christian texted.

“Long day?” Cherrie’s back, green eyes bright against her smiling face.

I don’t need to glance back to feel the full weight of three pairs of eyes boring into the back of my skull.

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