Page 80 of My Darling Mayhem

“How are we supposed to get past the fact that my brother is your enemy?”

Archer’s eyes narrowed like he had no idea what I was talking about.

“Why would we need to get past it?”

“Because I’m?—”

He slid closer to me until his arms were around me. “Mine. I don’t care about your past, Wren. I care that I’m the only one in your future.”

A lump formed in my throat.

His hand came up, pulling my hand over his heart and placing his hand over mine. “I belong in there, you in here. Anywhere else we go, whatever we do…it won’t matter because of that.”

Tears fell from my lashes as hope filled me. I let him pull me into his arms until we lay down and slid under the covers.

Archer had gotten me water, a washcloth, and then Pop-Tarts.

We sat in his room with the side lamp on and his shades shut while the television played something in the background.

“Did you get anywhere with Kane’s custody hearing?” I asked, taking a bite.

The silver wrapper crinkled as Archer swallowed his bite and cleared his throat.

“I spoke with the judge. We’re transitioning into a conditional living situation where I have to check in a ton with them, and allow them to come check on Kane, but it’s the next step for us and a good one.”

“That’s amazing!” I beamed up at him, swiping a crumb from my cheek.

“Thank you. I’m happy about it. Especially after last night, I needed to know he’d be coming home with me.”

“When?”

“Next week, but his foster parents are being really cool. Said I could get him as much as I wanted leading up until then. Even the case manager signed off without needing to be the go-between, saying we can transfer when ready.”

Archer balled up the remaining wrapper and reached to grab mine before walking to a trash can and tossing it all in.

“It will be nice to return to how things were,” I mused softly, leaning back into his pillows. Although I wasn’t even sure that would be possible with the strange visit from my mom looming over my head.

Archer came back to bed and gently gripped my thighs, pulling me toward him. “Wren, I need you to understand that because of my role in Mayhem Riot, there might be moments like this that don’t feel normal. I don’t want that to scare you.”

“But what about Kane…and Cruz? This isn’t safe for them to be exposed to this sort of danger.”

I knew I had said the wrong thing because his face shuddered. Like I’d just slapped him. It took me back to when we just met, and I had continued to hurt him by saying the wrong thing.

“I just mean?—”

“I know what you mean, and I—” He trailed off, sounding sad and worried. “I haven’t worked that out yet. I guess maybe I drop Mayhem Riot or leave them. I just haven’t figured it out yet. I just know I can’t give up Kane. I won’t give up you or Cruz either.”

I stroked his jaw, leaned closer, and pulled his mouth to mine. Archer kissed me back and hauled me down next to him, cradling me in his arms.

“Tell me what happened between you and your brother.”

I stared at our joined hands, tracing over Archer’s tattoos, trying to go back in time while I kept my emotions at bay. I had done enough crying for one night.

“When Juan was twenty-one, I was sixteen, and I was being especially careless with my life. Which included not going to school, getting caught at street races, and other idiotic things that kept my parents worried at night. Juan would check in and tell me how senseless I was being. At the time, his opinion really mattered to me, so hearing him say he was ashamed of me, was devasting. So, I started to change…I went into a credit recovery program at my school, I stopped smoking and drinking…and I pulled away from El Peligro entirely. I was home every night, missing parties and skipping out on anything my friends did. I was lonely, but I thought my big brother…my hero, would notice and be proud of me. Whenever I tried to tell Juan I was doing better, he was busy or didn’t care. I felt like I’d lost his respect, and there was no way to get it back.”

My throat suddenly felt too tight to continue. My eyes burned as I tugged at the duvet underneath me. It was soft, gray, and masculine.

“Then months went by, and I was so hurt that I started to feel depressed. I’ll never forget the night I overheard my mother crying on the phone to my tía. Juan had taken over the very gangmy father started. The one he judged me for being attached to at sixteen. The hypocrisy was more than I could bear.”

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