Page 80 of The Masks We Break

His eyelids flutter, looking down at the papers sprawled across his bed. He must know there’s nothing he can do, because his shoulders sag, and I hear a tooth crack from his clenched jaw.

Checkmate.

“The changes need to be made in six days. A second past that, all these files become public.” Picking up my helmet off the floor, I turn for the door but stop at the threshold. I speak over my shoulder, dropping as much venom in my words as possible, narrowing my visible gray eye. “And if I ever see you within fifty yards ofmycompany, I’ll break your fucking neck.”

“You really think I’m going to let this happen?”

I spin back around, taking a step forward. “You’re mistaken by thinking you have a choice.”

The rage twisting my father’s features sparks an unhealthy dose of confidence in him as he moves toward me, his fists balled at his sides. He has to know he’s making a mistake, but he’s blinded by anger. Ironic, as it’s one of the first lessons he ever taught me.

“Don’t ever lose your head. It’s a sure way to your own demise. Be calm, breathe, and look at the board. A king must use his pieces wisely.”

I’d always thought him cocky, and foolish to consider himself the king when the piece is so useless. It’s bound by only being able to move one space at a time, while the knight can slay the opponent, single-handedly without the need to sacrifice anyone.

“I’d be careful, Father.”

His face turns into a sneer, and like the fool he is, he charges forward.

When he swings, I curve to the left and straighten my jacket. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

A guttural noise rips from his throat, and he tries to strike again. When he misses this time, his eyes widen. I’m a little baffled that he spent my entire life teaching me how to defend myself and is surprised that he can’t land a hit. I almost want to laugh if I wasn’t so annoyed.

I allow him a second to rethink, but he doesn’t use it and throws another fruitless punch. This time, I don’t hold back. I let years of pent-up frustration and rage course through my body and out my right hand that hooks and collides with his face. The impact cracks my knuckles and sends my father into the nearby wall. His head crashes into a picture frame that falls on the shined wood floors, shattering on impact.

I watch as the fragments shower over him, imagining that the thousands of little pieces are all the words I’ve ever wanted to say as some slice across his skin. A part of me wants to hit him again. To show the same lack of mercy he’s always shown me as he pummels me into the mat with his infamous six hits. But I don’t. I won’t stoop to the low level he’s reigned in for years. Instead, I gaze down at the pile of nothing on the floor, watching as blood streams from his temple. He needs to remember this—when I showed him pity—because it will never happen again. If he ever attempts to make a misstep again, it will be his end. That much I can promise.

Even on the ground he doesn’t let his mask slip, but I don’t think I expected anything less. I lean over slightly, tilting my head to the side. “Six days.”

Then I turn on my feet, grab my helmet, and leave.

This is the moment I’ve been waiting on for longer than I can remember, one that I thought would make me feel powerful.Free.And while the euphoria does coarse through my veins, lighting up my body in a triumph greater than any football game, it’s tainted with the fact that I’ve hurt Remy. The vision of her tears still burns my eyes when I blink.

And just like that, I decide.

Tonight, I’ll win my game. Tomorrow, I’ll win back my girl.

Because the moon without the sun is just a floating rock. And Remy is the fucking sun that makes my existence worth it.

THIRTY FIVE

The skies are overcast, a low rumble rolling through the sky every few minutes, promising rain. But in the church, it’s already pouring. There isn’t a dry eye in the house as we sit in the pews, listening to a few of Ms. Hanes’ oldest friends speak over her casket.

Purple hydrangeas and white roses cover the dark chestnut box and are spread in vases throughout the aisle. It’s a beautiful service, with kind words that make my already aching heart throb.

It’s been twenty-four hours since Blaze and I have parted ways and already, everything I do feels weighted and takes more effort than I’m willing to put forth. If this wasn’t Spencer’s mother, I’d be back at home, curled in the bed with Amora, eating way too many baked goods, crying over monsters being slaughtered.

I gaze down the aisle at Spencer. I haven’t seen him in months, and with him being constantly surrounded today, we have yet to talk. But seeing him like this is unimaginably hard. His face is drawn, dark circles making him look as though he hasn’t slept in weeks. His hair is longer than it used to be, laying over his expressionless face. If it wasn’t for his arm around Lily, and his thumb stroking her arm, I wouldn’t even think he’s here, he’s that detached.

My chest burns and I force myself to look away. Something dangerously close to guilt weaves in my gut, whispering how I let him down. How I should have pushed a little more to be a better friend.

Amora puts her hand on my knee, leaning her head on my shoulder. “I know that look. Don’t beat yourself up, Rem. He wasn’t in the dark alone.”

I nod against her soft blonde tendrils and sigh. “Thank you.”

The preacher moves to the stand after the end note of “Wind Beneath My Wings” fades away. “And finally, Charlotte’s son, Spencer would like to share a few words.” He steps down, and my heart twists in my chest as my friend rises to his feet, kissing the top of Lily’s head.

Spencer ambles up the short steps and stands behind the podium, his left hand twirling a stray eucalyptus leaf that fell off the arrangement. “I would like to thank you all for coming here today and celebrating my mother’s life. Honestly, I could stand up here and tell you about all the great things my mother did during her time on this earth, but since you’re here with me, I’m sure you already know. So instead I want to share some advice she’s told me in hopes that her legacy, her memory, will forever live on through you.”

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