Page 112 of The Venom We Bleed

Before Miss Beck can answer, though, there’s a sharp knock on the door and it swings open. The two of us look up to find none other than Gio standing there. He glances over Miss Beck before his eyes find mine.

“Come on,” he says, jerking his chin behind him. “Your hour’s up. Time to go.”

“Mr. Vargas,” Miss Beck begins.

He merely shakes his head. “Sorry, Miss JB,” he says with a grin. “We’ve got to steal her away. Don’t worry, she’ll be back for her next sesh.”

Like fuck I will, but I don’t say as much as I stand up and snag my backpack off the floor. I don’t know how or why the counselor lets Gio tug me from her office, but as he does, hervoice filters back to me. “I think you should do it, by the way,” she calls out.

Curiosity stops me and I press my lips together briefly before glancing over my shoulder.

“Do what?”

She smiles, and it’s an easy, kind thing. She really has that saintly air about her. Her fiancé committed suicide and she doesn’t seem to hate me for it. It’s odd, to say the least. “Go to see him,” she answers.

There’s no question about who the ‘him’ is. I swivel to face Gio as the door closes behind me. “You told her?” My hands curl into fists.

“Me and Miss JB go way back.” Gio heads for the hallway and I follow him out of the counselor’s waiting room into the corridor. “Yeah, I told her I convinced you to go see your dad.”

“What the fuck, Gio?!”

He reaches into his pocket, seeming unconcerned by my hissing wrath. “I’ve got a date set up,” he says. “Had Lex call the lawyer—they’re expecting you this weekend.”

“Thisweekend?” As we arrive at the doors that lead out into the student parking lot, I come to a stop. He shoves the door open and then curses as rain begins to sprinkle over us.

“Shit, we’re gonna have to run to the car,” he shoves his phone back into his pocket and darts off across the lot. I follow but at a much more sedate pace. I don’t even feel the fat drops of rain that fall on my face and shoulders.

I’m going to see my dad.This weekend.Less than two days away.Am I fucking ready to face him after he blew up my life?

Gio gets to the Firebird first and hops into the driver’s seat. I’m slower to slide into the passenger’s side. He ranks the engine.

“Gio—I’m—” Freaking the fuck out.

“It’ll be okay,” G says. “But I knew you’d put it off if you could.”

I face him. “That’s my choice to make. You can’t just decide this for me.”

He doesn’t even flinch at the harshness in my tone. “It’s done,” is all he says.

It’s done. Those words hit with an awful finality to them. “No.” He arches a brow. I cross my arms over my chest. “No it’s not just ‘done’.”

Gio’s expression remains calm as he stares back at me for several moments, not saying a word.

I growl in frustration. “It’s been months since I’ve seen my dad. The last time I talked to him was over the phone.” It’d been a quick ‘it’ll all be okay, honey’ lie that I hadn’t believed then and certainly don’t believe now.

“You won’t be alone this time.” My heart stutters to a halt in my chest. Was that why it had felt so terrible the last time I’d talked to my dad? Because it’d been right after I’d moved into my apartment. Mom was gone and I was … alone.

Heat rockets into the car, driving away the cold from outside, and a wide palm finds my thigh, gripping and squeezing in an all-too familiar gesture. “I’ll be right there, Prep Girl,” he murmurs. “No matter what happens, you don’t need to face him all by yourself.”

A familiar burn starts up behind my eyes and I turn in my seat to face the windshield. I’m only distantly aware of Gio putting one hand on the steering wheel as he leaves the other on my leg as he reverses and peels out of the lot. The school building disappears in the rearview mirror.

This weekend … more rain falls outside the car, sliding down the windows. Gio turns on the windshield wipers. The combination of the heat pouring out of the vents, the sensation of his hand on my thigh, and the fog filling my head consumesme and I fade, growing further and further away as the road disappears beneath our wheels.

Above all, I feel the wash of relief that maybe … he’s right. Maybe if I’m not alone, facing him will be easier.

43

GIO

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