Page 81 of The Hate We Breathe
“You know it,” I reply.
She nods, then turns silently and leans up on her toes, pressing a chaste kiss to my cheek. “Thanks, Playboy.” With that, she moves towards Sunny and Mads and I’m left pitching a tent the size of the Eiffel Tower in my fucking pants.
I bite back a groan, tempted to drag her back to me and remind her that my preferred form of gratitude involves her on her knees. But I don’t. Not because I wouldn’t fucking love it, but because she doesn’t get moments like this anymore. Normal teenage-girl shit. Shopping. Laughing. Pretending the world isn’t circling us like vultures.
So I let her have it. Even if all I am right now is the chauffeur with a loaded gun in his glove box.
My gaze cuts to the windows, muscles coiled, scanning for any sign of Darrio or his dogs. There’s nothing.
Still, I don’t relax. Viks swore he’s got my father tangled up and distracted, but the only people I truly trust are my boys and Juliet. And right now, there’s no hiding the fact that she’s a flashing neon sign, screaming ‘target’.
Nolan, Lex, and I made a silent pact: she doesn’t breathe without one of us close enough to catch it. Not until all of the threats have been found and neutralized.
Abel’s hacker pulled gold from that little break-in Juliet and Nolan risked their necks for. Promising enough to make me think maybe—just maybe—we’ll finally have the kind of proof that won’t just clear her as a suspect, but will give us a hand in getting rid of my old man too.
Madison squeals in excitement as Sunny pulls a long silken gown free from one of the racks. She runs her hands over it, shoving it towards Juliet. I smile as I drop down into a sunken loveseat near the front door, the fabric smelling like dust and time, and watch them. It’s interesting to see how she acts when it’s just her and her friend. She holds dresses up to Mads’ shorter frame as they discuss differences and prices. Sunny is beaming at the two of them and gushing over the variety of formal gowns she’s got in stock.
I pull out my cell and type out a quick text to Ma-Ri. Two words.
ME:Thank you.
Her response takes longerthan her earlier help, but it reads just as it would if she were standing in front of me.
MA-RI:Sunny will take care of the girl—but don’t let that old woman fleece you. She’ll bleed you dry if she thinks you’re a fool.
My lips quirkin amusement as I stow my phone and look up, catching Juliet’s eyes as she glances my way.Thank you,she mouths. I blow her a kiss and she rolls her eyes, turning back to her friend and the shop owner.
Realization is slow in coming. It doesn’t slam into me like a bolt of lightning, but builds as I sit there, watching her. It takes a strong person to completely reinvent themselves the way that she had to. I hated her in the beginning, blamed her for something she never had a hand in. The girl that I hated never existed, though. She was a mask hiding a raw gem.
When the girls finally find their dresses and make their decisions, I set down a charge card to pay for not just Juliet’s, but Mads’ as well—ignoring her pleas or refusals as Sunny grins from across the counter. But it isn’t until I’m walking out, leaving them chatting with Sunny so I can heat the car up before they get in that my new reality bubbles to life. Juliet isn’t just a girlfriend. She’s not just someone I share with my best friends. Juliet is my future—all of our futures. I’d do fucking anything for this woman, so long as she keeps looking at me like I’ve saved her because the truth is—she’s the one saving us.
I frown as I near my car and find a white envelope tucked beneath the windshield wiper. Half expecting it to be an ad or coupon for one of the other shops in the area, I snatch it off only to pause when the thick paper crinkles and something slides around inside. A sense of dread invades my veins and without looking inside, I quickly shove the envelope into my back pocket, unlocking the car and cranking the heater before waving Juliet and her friend over as they exit the shop.
The drive back is quiet, the envelope sitting heavy in my pocket, distracting me. The sky darkening as we drive past neighborhoods with their streetlamps flaring to life. A rock ballad plays on the radio, volume turned down low as Juliet and Mads talk to each other about everything from Mads’ numerousextracurriculars to Juliet’s essay for English. I tune them out, one hand on the steering wheel while the other is settled over Juliet’s thigh, squeezing every so often as the warmth of her body reminds me that I haven’t fucked her in a while.
“I wish Roquel had been able to come,” Mads says.
Juliet nods and murmurs a quiet agreement.
Silence drapes over us again, but it isn’t heavy. Instead, it feels comfortable, like an old, worn blanket draped over you after you fall asleep watching an old movie.
When I stop at the end of Madison’s street at her request, the mood shifts abruptly. For several long seconds, she stares out of the front windshield at the single-story house a few spaces down where I know she lives. The look in her eyes is one of a dog that doesn’t want to go back to its kennel.
Juliet doesn’t say anything, doesn’t try to coax her, and neither do I. I’ll take her somewhere else if she wants, but she doesn’t ask. I doubt she ever has. Finally, after what feels like an hour of waiting, Mads tells Juliet that she’s ready and Jules climbs out of the front seat to help her friend out of the back.
“I’ll see you at school,” Mads says, her smile a brittle thing, and it makes something violent in my chest squeeze. I hate the way she looks right now. It reminds me far too much of… I grit my teeth and shove the image of my ma out of my head as Juliet gets back into the vehicle.
Her eyes are locked on her friend’s back as she carries her plastic garment bag down the street. Madison heads up the front stoop of her house and disappears inside without ever looking back.
I don’t offer her any platitudes or comfort. Our relationship is built on far more realness than that bullshit.
“You can’t help someone who doesn’t know that they need it.” My voice is steady, but nonjudgemental. It’s not chastising, nor is it critical. Just raw, unfiltered truth.
Juliet continues to stare at the house. “Those fucking people are going to break her,” she mutters. “They’re going to rip her apart and leave nothing left.”
I thread my fingers through hers, bringing the back of her hand to my mouth, and let my lips linger there, relishing the warmth of her skin. “If you clawed your way out,” I tell her, “then so can she.”
Her eyes flick to me, glassy and burning at once, and she nods. But it’s not the nod of someone comforted. It’s the nod of someone planning to make sure her friend survives—even if she has to drag her out of the fire kicking and screaming. I understand that kind of loyalty. It’s the same that I feel towards Lex and Nolan.
