Page 58 of Ex- Factor
They knew. They all knew me better than I knew myself. The therapy, the progress... it was all just a thin veneer. Underneath, I was still the same explosive bastard, ready to torch my entire life over a slight.
Cassius clapped a heavy hand on my shoulder.
“He’s not worth it, brother. He’s not worth your freedom. He’s not worth having to see Ekon and Eshe through prison glass.”
“Let’s go get a drink,” Jonas said. “A real one. And we can talk about your feelings if you want. We’ll listen if we have to. It’ll be more tolerable after some whiskey.”
I looked past them at the stupid, beautiful house. I pictured my father inside, probably sipping a scotch, completely unaware that his son was standing in his driveway—and that two of my friends, the brothers he’d never understand, had just saved us all from me.
I took a deep breath.
The salt air didn’t feel like money anymore.
It just felt cold.
“Yeah,” I said, my voice rough. “A drink sounds good.”
I let them lead me back to the car.
I didn’t look back.
Chapter Thirty Three- Eshe
Three months later.
India.Arie’s“Good Mourning”curled through my speakers, a balm on the raw edges of my spirit. I was on Silas’s back patio, tucked into a plush lounger with a book I wasn’t reading. I was just… relaxing.
The sliding glass door was open, letting the evening air blend with the music. I was waiting for him to get back with takeout, content in the quiet.
This—whatever this was with Silas—was calm. It was… easy.
The peace shattered when a voice cut through the music from the other side of the tall wooden fence that separated Silas’s yard.
“Eshe? Life?”
My entire body went rigid. The ghost of my past was rattling the gates of my new paradise.
Literally.
I didn’t answer. I held my breath.
“Life, I know that’s you. I can hear your music.”
I hated that he still called meLifenow.
Slowly, against every screaming instinct, I stood and walked to the fence. There was a narrow gap between two slats. Ididn’t look through it—just leaned my forehead against the cool wood.
“What do you want, Donte?” I asked, my voice flat, drained of the energy it took to fight him.
A beat of silence.
“The universe has a fucked-up sense of humor. I guess this is my punishment for what I did to you.”
“You’re not being punished by my happiness, Donte.”
“I am. Was I really that bad, Eshe?” His voice was muffled by the barrier between us. “Bad enough for you to just… give up on me? Throw away everything we had? You’re over here… and it’s like I never existed.”
Compassion rose in me like a tide—a stupid, traitorous reflex conditioned by years of loving him. I wanted to reach out, to smooth the worry from his brow.
