Page 13 of A Hurt So Good

“So what happened at the party? Who was there?”

“Basically, the same people. There were a few I didn’t recognize, but that’s about it. I kept an eye on them.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“What else happened,” he asks, motioning to my hands. I sigh and lean back, put my hands behind my head, and grin at him.

“Some bitch was trying to be all up on War, and he wasn’t having it,” Harlon chimes in.

“So what? Who’d you fight with?”

“Her brother,” I tell him.

“That’s why you’re never going to have a girlfriend,” Sasha mumbles. Denz smirks, and Harlon laughs, but I just smile at her. She’s probably right.

“You might be right there, but I don’t like people touching me,” I remind them all.

“You don’t mind us touching you,” Sasha adds.

“That’s different. You guys are family.” And that’s the truth. They’re my family, and I have no issue with my family touching me. I just don’t like random people putting their hands on me. I don’t know why I am the way I am. I don’t know what made me this way, but this is me.

We sit in silence while Sasha sleeps, each of us lost in our own world. We sit on our phones until the other two fall asleep. Not me, though. I have insomnia most nights and can’t fall asleep. It’s been this way for as long as I can remember.

I’ve seen a doctor about it, but all they want to do is put me on medicine, and I’m not into that shit. I’d prefer to stay awake than sleep if that’s what I have to do. My mom gave me medicine when I was younger, and I hated the way it made me feel. Yeah, I slept, but the next day, I felt like shit.

I scroll through my phone, smiling at some of the pictures people have posted. There isn’t much on social media, so I shove out of my chair and sneak out of the room. I walk down to the elevator and head down to the main floor as I grab the pack of cigarettes from my pocket, shake one out, and grab it with my teeth. I’m stepping out of the elevator when security stops me.

“You can’t smoke in here,” he says, nodding toward the unlit cigarette hanging from my lips.

“It’s not lit,” I remind the asshole as he narrows his brows at me. ,

“Take it outside.”

“Where the fuck do you think I’m going?” I snap at him. He jolts a little from the thunder in my tone, but I just walk past him, shoulder-checking him on the way. As soon as I step outside, I pull my lighter out and light it up, leaning against the wall of the hospital.

I inhale deeply, sucking nicotine into my lungs before blowing smoke into the air.

Sometimes I think about life. My life. What the hell I’m doing with it. My dad has offered us a place in his business more times than I can count, but that doesn’t feel fair to me. I haven’t earned my place in the company, and I sure as hell didn’t graduate high school. Nevertheless, I haven’t done shit else with my life.

I work in a goddamn factory making shit money, same as my brother’s. I can’t see stepping up and going to my dad even though he has accounts set up for us boys. None of us have touched them. I guess we think along the same lines. We didn’t earn it, and dad has always taught us to earn what we want. Not that he cares if we touch the money; he doesn’t. He reminds us of that all the time. He always tells us that’s what it’s there for.

Maybe it’s my pride standing in the way. Maybe it’s the fact I’m stubborn and pretty set in my ways.

Whatever it is, something is missing inside me. And I haven’t found anything to fill the goddamn void.

Chapter 8

Harlon

Sasha went home from the hospital yesterday. The doc said everything was looking good, and she should recover just fine. We were all glad to hear that, but tonight my dad has the goddamn family dinner planned.

“What the hell do you mean you’re not going?” I snap at Denz.

“I have to work. Sasha’s insurance isn’t going to cover everything,” he tells me. I blow out a breath as I run my hand through my hair.

“We’ll all help,” War chimes in. It’s not like we can’t afford it with the accounts my dad has in place, but none of us have touched those yet.

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