Page 30 of Outcast

The liquor wasn't nearly as strong as the pull of home. Yet, it hadn't stopped me from finishing off half the bottle as I sat here in the most uncomfortable wooden chair I'd ever used. It wasn't even the right size, but the furniture that had come with the apartment was seemed miniature. My feet even hung over the end of the mattress.

The silence was a farce as the neighbors turned on their TV, coughed, or flushed the toilet. The noises were a reminder that there were people living their lives while my ass was glued to this seat.

My mind was alarmingly blank as I stared at the glass on the table. I slowly spun it around with my hand.

I'd been in this exact spot for at least a day . My phone had buzzed. Probably João, wondering where I was. But after the first hour, that had stopped.

Someone knocked on my door at lunch. That was most likely Pedro. I didn't move a muscle and eventually, the stairs creaked as he returned upstairs.

Nothing moved me. If given the chance, I could stay in this spot until I took my last breath.

That was what I wanted, wasn't it? To disappear and make everyone's life easier?

What was easy about that? What was right with it? Fair?

I barked out a laugh, then jumped. I startled myself with the break in silence.

Without any thought behind it, I picked up the glass and threw it against the wall. The high-pitched shatter accosted my ears as the pieces flew everywhere and liquid dripped down the wall.

Salty liquid entered the seam of my mouth and I used both hands to wipe my face. Fuck, I was crying.

I hadn't cried when Vicente died. I definitely hadn’t shed one goddamned tear when Valentina died.

But Javier? That ripped my heart out of my chest. I could feel it now, like it had been a ghost hiding inside me all along.

But was it because he died, or because Rita used his last days to come get me?

She missed his passing because ofme. Because he wanted to see me.

What was so fucking important that I had to stay away? Who was I protecting? Them?

Or myself?

It didn't make sense anymore. Did it ever?

Memories floated up to the surface of Javier over the years.

Him clapping me on the back, when I helped him iron out a deal. Javier sitting in silence with me after I had to watch my brother Grey whipped at the post when there wasn't a goddamned thing I could do about it.

Whenever I had to witness a new atrocity at Vicente’shands, Javier offered a place to gather my thoughts and collect myself.

Then there was the conversation I had with him after my brothers’ girl, Amorette, stabbed one of the Dirty Dogs.

"That fucker had it coming anyway." Javier shrugged. "I'm glad she took care of the issue for me. Saved me a hell of a headache." He'd laughed, then sobered up. "I'm glad to see you with your brothers. It's the one thing you've always wanted."

"You mean you weren't ready to welcome me into the Dirty Dogs?" I laughed it off as a joke.

He held my stare. "Matías, you're a Dirty Dog regardless of whatever shit you're doing with your brothers. You have our support. Doesn't mean I don't wish things were different." Shaking his head, he'd walked away.

The fuck of it was, the Dirty Dogs had come through for my brothers. It wasn't easy at first. I'd heard there were rumblings because they blamed them for my death, but in the end, they showed up when they were needed.

Unable to hold my head up any longer, it fell, my chin hitting my chest.

Rita? Even when she was furious with me, she gave it all away with her eyes.

I'd heard she'd befriended Amorette. She did that for herself, and because of the kind of woman Amorette was, but I'd bet she’d done that for me too. Because she thought I was gone.

Everyone in my life who mattered showed up for me over and over. In big and small ways.

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