Page 137 of Cherry Beats

The knock at the door came right away, dragging my eyes up to stare at it in disbelief.

“If that’s those bastard reporters again—” Molly started

“It’s Presley’s uncle,” I answered robotically.

“What?” She spun around to me. “How do you know?”

“Tess, it’s me,” Uncle Dex said from beyond the door. “I swear, I have a couple of things to drop off and that’s it. I’m alone.”

I moved with urgency for the first time in days, the need to be close to anything or anyone who knew Presley like a raging wildfire, desperate to spread, contradicting my need to stay away from him. Love makes us senseless—stupid.

Pushing Molly aside, I opened the door and stared up into the familiar eyes of a man who’d only ever been kind to me.

“Hey, Cherry,” Dex said in a voice that reminded me so much of his nephew’s. His eyes were downturned, his disappointment crystal clear. He looked me up and down carefully, taking me in. I was standing there in black pyjama pants and a black Bon JoviAlwaysT-shirt. “You look like you’re in mourning,” he sighed.

“Kind of am.”

How is he?I wanted to ask.Does he hate me? Should I hate him? Was it all a lie?

Molly appeared behind me, folding her arms over her chest like a very attractive bouncer.

Dex looked at her, nodding in acknowledgement. “Hi.”

“Hey.” She nodded back.

“Dex, Molly. Molly, Dex.”

“Nice to finally meet you,” Dex said. “Tess talked about you a lot on the road. I’m glad she’s got someone taking care of her.”

“She doesn’t need anybody. She’s more capable than she lets people think.”

“Try telling her that,” Dex huffed through a sad puff of laughter.

I stared up at him, tears filling my eyes and the Presley-sized lump in my throat impossible to swallow.

“Is he…?” I tried to ask, but the words wouldn’t come out.

“Don’t ask me questions you don’t want the answer to, Tess,” Dex told me calmly. “Right now, he thinks you don’t care. If I go back there telling him that you were asking how he was, it’s going to confuse him even more, and as much as I like you, I love him. You have Molly. He has me.”

“He thinks I don’t care?”

Dex cleared his throat, choosing not to answer as he held out a box he was holding. “You left a couple of things behind he said were yours. I have no idea what’s in here, so if you want to know, you’re going to have to look for yourself.” He looked up at me, his gaze lingering.

“Are you mad at me, too, Dex?”

‘No. I’m disappointed.”

“Me, too,” I answered, taking the box from him, not knowing where my agreement with him truly lay. Disappointment was the ultimate feeling floating through my body—a little aimed at myself while the majority was glued to Presley and the night he spoke about me to Janey fucking Dominic.

The very thought of them together made my spine straighten, and my chin rise in defiance. “Thanks for my things,” I said coolly, the last word getting stuck in my throat.

Dex nodded again and turned to leave, and I was just about to beg him to stay when he glanced back over his shoulder and shook his head. “Have you ever done something stupid before? Said the wrong thing at the wrong time to the wrong person?”

“I…”

“Of course you have,” he said sadly. “We all have. It’s called being human. You may see him as a statue on a pedestal, but he’s human, too, you know. He hurts. He makes mistakes, just like the rest of us. You asked me if I’m mad, and I said no. That was a lie. I’m fucking furious, but not at you alone. I’m mad at this world we live in—the one where everyone is suddenly so damn right about every little thing, their views and opinions rigid and unmoving. I’m mad that it’s easier to throw stones than to pick them up and put them somewhere safe where they won’t hurt anyone. I’m mad at the way the world loves to build people up only to enjoy every second of tearing them back down again. Do you know what else I’m mad at?”

“No,” I mouthed, barely making a sound.

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