Page 4 of Victorious: Part 2
The mechanic approaches, sensing our hesitation. “You folks okay? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”
More like a damn massacre,I think, but can’t say it out loud.
“We’re fine,” Phoenix lies smoothly, finally releasing me to stand. But I catch the tremor in his hands as he reaches for his wallet. “What do I owe you?”
I tune out as they exchange their pleasantries, Phoenix counting out bills, as I study his profile. The hard line of his jaw. The way his shoulders carry too much weight. This man, who was supposed to protect me from a distance, is now the only thing standing between me and a complete and utter breakdown.
But he’s falling apart too.
I see it in the way his eyes dart toward his phone every few seconds, willing it to ring with news from home. I see it in the rigid set of his spine, like he’s bracing for impact. I see it in the careful way he’s not looking at me because looking at me means acknowledging that we’re both terrified.
The mechanic pockets the cash and tips his hat. “Drive safe now. And hey…” he pauses, studying us both with the wisdom of someone who’s seen plenty of broken people pass through this long strip of endless desert, “… whatever’s waitin’ for you down the road, you’ll face it together, and that’s worth somethin’.” He dips his hat at me, somehow giving me a small amount of comfort as he turns back for his truck, ducks in, and takes off without another word.
After he drives off, we’re left standing in suffocating silence.
Phoenix runs a hand through his dark hair, the gesture rough and frustrated. “We should go.”
But he doesn’t move toward the truck.
And I don’t either.
Because getting in that truck means making a choice, continue to Vegas like Maverick ordered, or turn around and race back to potentially find everyone we love already buried.
“Phoenix,” I whisper, my voice breaking on his name. “What if we’re making the wrong choice?”
He turns to face me, and the anguish in his blue eyes nearly buckles my knees. This man who always seems so sure, so in control, is just as lost as I am.
“I don’t know,” he admits, the words torn from somewhere deep. “Christ, Clo, I don’t know anything anymore.”
The honesty hits me harder than any lie ever could because Phoenix always knows what to do. He’s the one with the plan, the strategy, the next move mapped out three steps ahead.
But not now.
Now he’s just a man who’s as scared as I am of what we might find or what we might have lost.
“Sadie,” he breathes, and the name comes out as though it’s a prayer. “If something happened to her.” He shakes his head, his carefully constructed walls beginning to crack. His protective instincts aren’t just about me anymore. They’re about his sister, his family, everyone he’s sworn to keep safe. And right now, he can’t protect any of us.
“She’s okay,” I exclaim, even though I have no way of knowing that. “They’re all okay.”
He laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “You weren’t so sure when you were having a panic attack a few moments ago, Clover.”
Letting out a long puff of air, I straighten my shoulders.
Numb.
Just be numb, Clover.
“Because I have to be.” The words surprise me with their strength. “Because the alternative is…” I can’t finish mysentence. I can’t give voice to the fear that’s been eating me alive since we lost contact.
Phoenix steps closer, close enough that the gold flecks in his blue eyes bring a little bit of magic to the moment. Though the exhaustion etched into the lines around them reminds me of the stress we’re both carrying.
“I was supposed to keep you safe,” he replies quietly. “That was the deal. Keep you away from the war, keep you protected. But I can’t protect you from this, can I? From the not knowing.”
My heart clenches at the rawness in his voice.
“Youarekeeping me safe,” I whisper. “Phoenix, look at me.” He does, reluctantly. “If I were there, if I was in that clubhouse when…ifthey came…” I swallow hard. “I would be dead. You know that, right? I’m not a fighter like Haven or Alpha. I’m not trained like them. I would be a liability.” Something flickers in his eyes, understanding, maybe. Or hope. “Maverick sent me away because he knew,” I continue. “He knew that keeping me safe meant keeping me away. And he trustedyouto do that.”
Phoenix’s throat bobs as he swallows. “But what kind of man does that make me? What kind of brother abandons his family when they might need him the most?”
