Page 37 of Your Fault

Cruz smiled, lifted his hands, and walked backward. He was being chill because he needed that money. I took my card out and punched in my number. I hoped I wouldn’t have any problems with the withdrawal. Three thousand dollars: that was what I’d made for the entire four weeks I’d been away from Noah.

“Here—take it. And try not to run into me again,” I threatened him, handing over the cash.

Cruz counted it and grinned.

“You never should have left here, Nick. You’re a better fit than you think… This goody-two-shoes role you’ve been playing lately, it don’t fit you…”

I turned around, ready to walk away.

“I should have told you,” he added, “back when your girl got kidnapped and you sent the cops out, you know I walked right out the front door and got away? How is Noah, by the way?”

That was the last straw. My fist moved so fast that I wasn’t even aware it had struck his jaw until I saw him lying there on the ground. He sat up fast, and his boys threw me on the ground close to him. The first blow came right afterward and landed square in my left eye.

“Don’t you ever say her name again, motherfucker!” I rolled on top of him, and I pounded his face I don’t know how many times.

Just then, I felt a kick in the ribs.

“I’ll kill you, you son of a bitch,” Cruz said, and before I could react, the three guys were kicking me while I rolled back and forth. The first ankle I could grab, I pulled on with all my strength. Feet and fists rained down on me, blood was flying, but the adrenaline in my veins kept me from feeling a thing. I was blind with rage. Hearing my girlfriend’s name in his mouth threw gasoline on the fire.

I climbed on top of the guy I’d pulled down and started hitting him in the stomach. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Lion taking on two others. We weren’t going to last long; it was four against two, and Lion was on his last legs. I could take on two guys with no problems, three even, but four? Even I had my limits.

Someone kneed me in the jaw, and my vision blurred. I fell to the ground facedown and got hit again, this time in the stomach. I couldn’t breathe. Every attempt to get oxygen to my lungs failed.

“Don’t come ’round here again,” I heard. “If you do, you won’t walk back out.”

15

Noah

My trip had come to an end. I had seen magnificent sights, had swum at the best beaches, had eaten traditional cuisine… Still, when the plane from New York touched down in LA, all I could feel was glee, glee and an anxiety that made me nauseous.

I stood up as soon as we heard the ding that said we could unbuckle our seat belts. My mother seemed to think my anticipation was a bit much, but I was overjoyed that we were in first class and could leave before everyone else. I hurried out the door as soon as it opened and onto the jet bridge that led into the terminal. My mother was driving me crazy, dragging her feet. What the hell was keeping her?

Fortunately, since we’d had a layover in New York, I didn’t have to wait and show my passport. We just walked down a long passageway, caught an escalator, and we were outside. It was 7:00 p.m. in Los Angeles, and the first thing I saw was the blinding light of the setting sun, which I struggled for a few seconds to peer through. William was there. But where was Nick?

I looked all over as the hum of the escalator droned on, and finally I had no other option but to walk over to my boyfriend’sfather. He smiled and opened his arms to hug me, but I could tell from his eyes that something was bothering him. I didn’t want to be rude, but I wasn’t especially in the mood to hug him either.

“How’s my weary world traveler?” he asked during our brief embrace.

“Where’s Nicholas?”

He looked down at me for a moment, but before he would answer, he saw my mother. She ran toward him with open arms, and he pulled her in tight. I didn’t understand what was happening. She stood back long enough to kiss him on the lips. I turned away to avoid watching.

“Where’s Nicholas?” my mother asked, just as I had before.

Will looked back at me and shrugged as though to say,What did you expect?“He sent a text saying he couldn’t pick you up. He’ll be in touch as soon as he can be.”

That didn’t make sense.

“That’s all?” I asked incredulously. My joy deflated like a balloon, and disillusion took its place.

William shook his head, and I turned around as he and Steve took our suitcases. I grabbed my phone and called Nick. It went straight to voice mail. I hung up before he could hear my deafening silence.

Why hadn’t he come to pick me up? Was he working? If so, he could have come anyway; he did for my birthday. He’d said he’d been happy to leave everything to come see me…

Had those weeks apart made him stop caring about me as much as he used to?

Jesus, what the hell was I thinking? Of course he cared about me! We’d talked—he was dying to see me, he’d told me so…

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