My mouth falls open and then he darts off, I don’t know what possesses me to act like a child, but before I know it, I’m chasing after him.
He spins behind a bike rack, juking left and right, so I wait, cut around the second he breaks free, but I bump into someone, stumbling slightly.
Hands wrap around my biceps, steadying me, and my smile lifts to the skater boy I ran off his board.
“I’m so sorry—”
I cut off when Ransom’s arm darts between us, and he grips the guy by the shirt, twisting the thin cotton in his fist. He yanks him forward only to toss him back.
The guy stumbles over the curb, falling into the sand beneath it. “Yo, what the fuck, man?”
My eyes widen, flying to Ransom, but he glares at the angry guy on the ground.
“Oh my god, I—”
I try to apologize again, this time for Ransom’s antics but then his hard eyes find mine and I snap at him instead. “What the hell?”
His jaw is flexed, but he says nothing, tearing away and stomping down the beach.
I turn, but he’s already up and spun for his skateboard.
Arsen hands over my phone with a tight-lipped smile and jogs off to catch up to Ransom, Beretta and me slowly following behind.
“Someone is in a mood today.” I sigh, and Beretta bumps his shoulder with mine.
We head back to the cave, both sticking to our thoughts, which sucks, and once we reach it, Ransom is standing outside of it.
He steps in front of me, blocking my path, his light blue eyes staring into mine.
It’s funny, I’m always in heels, but standing here like this, the flip-flops I bought dangling from my hand, I realize he’s even taller than I thought. He’s irritated, so I should leave him to himself, but for some reason, I reach up, brushing a little bit of sand from the edge of his forehead, and his frown deepens.
It’s as if he’s waiting for something, but I’m not sure if it’s from me or from himself. Either way, it never comes.
He growls and walks away.
I spin, facing the water, and Beretta comes up behind me, wrapping his arms loosely over my shoulders.
“He’s got a lot of shit going on, that’s all.” He excuses his friend.
I scowl at the ocean.
“His uh, his brother’s a dick,” he shares, and my ears perk up. “Uses him when he needs to, but it’s all to keep a leash around his neck. It’s fucked up, but it was that way with his parents, too. They didn’t like him, they might love him, I don’t know, but they didn’t like him.”
He pauses and I know he’s trying to decide what else to say, so I wait and eventually more comes.
“They’re addicts, like my dad, but harder stuff,” he mumbles. “Been gone for a few years now. His brother stepped in like he was being noble, doing what was right and all that other showboat shit, but he only wanted what his mom tried hard and failed to get after their sisters’ accident.”
“What was that?” I ask quietly.
His chest inflates against my back, and he holds his deep breath in for a long moment.
“A little bit of hope his granddad left them,” he tells me. “It’s not a lot by the standards of people here, but for them, it’s more than enough, just like it was enough to get big brother to pretend to play nice for a minute.”
My chest aches.
Money is the devil of this world, and power is its son.
Beretta’s chin falls to my head, and he speaks below a whisper, just in case. “His sister...she’s alive, Trouble.”
I tense, my hands coming up to grip his forearms. I’m tempted to look over my shoulder, but I’m not sure I can look at his face right now.
“But you said... or I thought...”
“She’s partially paralyzed now, and in a home,” he murmurs. “It’s really hard on him, but he’s helpless right now, at his brother’s will. It’s tough, seeing him fall apart. She’s been the most important person in his life since I’ve known him. It’s not for me to say how he’s feeling, but he’s not the same as he was. He tries, but his world is different now.”
How could he not be forever changed?
The weight of his words is too heavy, and my body sags against Beretta’s and he gladly accepts the burden, his stance widening in the sand to hold me up.
“His brother’s a piece of shit, parents are who knows where.” He’s quiet for a long moment before he adds, “He has no one, Trouble, just us.”
I pull in a lungful of air. “Maybe that’s enough.”
He shifts, leaning over slightly so he can meet my eyes, a sorrowful look in his. “No,” he says. “There’s still something missing.”
We hold each other’s gazes a long moment.
“The blackouts, the hiding in the dark,” I mumble. “How you guys hid in the corner of my dressing room that day...”
“He gets in any trouble and it could ruin things for him, his brother will only make his life harder, send him back to jail.” He nods, a somber look in his eye and I know there is more than he is sharing. He grins suddenly. “What’s that Cardi B song say, ‘no face, no case’?”
An instant laugh escapes me, but it’s thick, and while Beretta smiles wide, it’s weighted as well.
The heavy eases the smallest bit as he steps closer, now holding my chin between his fingers. A low sigh leaves him, and he speaks a truth I’m not sure I want to hear.
I’m not sure I should.
“You’re more alike than you think, Trouble,” he says softly. “Just look where you landed after a long day.”
What he means is after a shitty day.
Look where I am, look where Ransom is.
Here, with them.
Where existing is easy and not a series of well-practiced etiquette.
It’s strange, the dynamic we have.
How they can sense what’s going on with me, how Ransom can see right through me. How comfortable I am around them when I don’t even let my hair down, so to speak, around my own sister. Around Cali and Jules.
It’s as if, when they’re near, this little voice is on repeat inside my head, whispering to me, but I can’t quite hear what’s said because it’s just out of reach, and then comes the need to slip closer.
To be closer.
It’s not smart of me, but it’s true.
Arsen puts the last layer of green onion on top of our dip, his hand raising.
I pop a brow, pulling my gloves off and tossing them in the mixing bowl. “Seriously?” I fight a grin but meet his palm with my own.
He locks his fingers around mine, tugging me in with a teasing gleam in his eye, but steps back with a laugh a moment later.
“I think the last time I high-fived anyone had to be when I was five.”
He bumps his shoulder with mine, tossing the can opener into the bowl, and starts wiping the counter, so I carry our trash to the back of the classroom for sanitizing.
Passing the boys’ station, my eyes meet Ransom’s, and a smirk covers my lips when I find, of course, he was already staring.
I toss the gloves in the trash, the utensils in the bin, and the bowl in the sink, taking my sweet time washing my hands.
I don’t look back as I reach up for a paper towel, drying them, and only when I have nothing left to do, do I slowly spin around.