Page 31 of Outcast

Who did I show up for? No fucking one. But I’d tried my best, hadn’t I?

Yet, I'd let Vicente and then Valentina dictate every decision I made.

They were dead.They're dead.

"You're fucking dead!" I screamed at the floor.

A jolt of electricity shocked me as a new purpose settled over me. Rita was right. I was letting the dead dictate who I could and couldn't love. I loved my brothers, regardless of how they viewed me. I loved Rita, even though I didn't deserve her. And I owed it to Javier to be there when they laid him to rest.

I raced to grab my phone and fired off a text to Andre. He'd meet me. If nothing else, he'd have my back if I needed it. Of that, I was certain.

Then I spent the next two hours cleaning out the apartment. It was pitiful how meager my belongings were, a testament that I didn't belong here.

Before the next morning, I chartered a private plane, and headed back to the place I'd never thought I'd go again.

Home.

"Sir,"a woman said. "Sir."

I bolted upright, glancing around. The windows were shut, but I was surrounded by luxury airplane seats. All of them empty, but it was enough to remind me of where I was and where I was going.

"We're landing in twenty minutes." She pointed to the seatbelt and walked back up the aisle.

My heart thudded almost painfully, partly from bursting awake, and partly from nervous anticipation.

This was going to go really well, or really fucking poorly.

I headed to the bathroom and quickly cleaned up so I could return to my seat and buckle in. I could use a shower, but that could wait until later.

Once they opened up the plane and I stepped out, ablack SUV was waiting and a man who might as well have been my twin stood with his arms crossed. We were both the spitting image of Vicente, even though we had different mothers. Thick, dark hair, tan skin, and amber eyes. Only Andre was anal about everything, including his impeccable suits.

The wind picked up and fluttered said suit jacket.

I was really here.

Instant relief hit me square in the chest. Tossing my duffle bag over my shoulder, I sped up. I couldn't stop the grin from forming when I got close. Andre, the control freak, kept his level expression.

I hadn't expected him to be ecstatic when I came back, but I didn't care. I was happy to see the bastard. No pun intended.

"Hel–" I started to greet him, but I couldn't finish the word before his fist met my mouth.

"Ow!" I hollered, twisting away and covering my face. I dropped my duffle bag too. "What the fuck?" I yelled.

He waited for me to collect myself and stand up. When I turned around, he grabbed my shoulders and pulled me in for a hug, slapping my back hard. "It's good to have you home, youpendejo estúpido."

I returned the hug weakly. "That was an asshole thing to do," I gripped, but somehow, I was still grinning. When he stepped back, he mirrored my expression.

No matter what kind of shit storm I was about to stir up, Andre was happy to have me home.

That felt good.

The doors on the SUV opened and when I glanced over his shoulder, my grin morphed into a smile so wide, my cheeks hurt.

Parker leaned his elbow on top of the car by the frontpassenger seat, smirking. He hadn't changed a bit. Still wearing his hair buzzed short and mischievousness ingrained into every inch of him. Lafe sat in the backseat but his head was turned our way. He wasn't smiling, but he wasn't not smiling either. It was a weird sort of calm I'd never seen on Lafe before.

He'd been an addict for years. All because of Vicente. But he'd never had the gaunt look about him. Grey and Andre had done a good job of feeding him proper meals to keep weight on him.

Then there was Grey walking around the back. "It's good to see you." He pulled me into a hug.

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