I parted my lips to disagree, but…didn’t.
“You know I’m right,” he whispered, sitting beside me on the floor. He draped an arm over one of his knees and bumped my closest knee with his. “I may not like the guy all that much, but that doesn’t mean I don’t think he’s good for you. I’d just like to think you’re too good for him.”
I wanted to smile, the temptation was there, but I couldn’t. Instead, I stood up and felt his eyes on me as I dropped the dirty washcloth into the hamper and walked over to the sink to splash cold water onto my warm face and brush my teeth. Hands gripping the edge of the counter, I stared at my reflection, at the deep frown and the pale skin and the distant eyes.
The longer I stared, the more I felt the resemblance of hate growing in my chest. I swore the girl staring back grinned like she knew it was happening, like she was beckoning the negative feelings as if I deserved them.
I didn’t.
I didn’t deserve it.
I raised my hand.
And punched the glass.
“Holy fucking—” Instantly, I was being jerked away from the shards of sharp glass everywhere, my fist aching and bleeding and my bare feet being stabbed by the little pieces that strayed from the mess I’d made—from the reflection of the girl who’d tormented me for so many years.
“Are you insane?” Ren barked, quickly lifting my hand and examining the damage I’d done. I didn’t even look to see what was there, just felt the blood dripping down my wrist and arm until it dropped to the floor. “Goddamn, motherfucking shit. Your feet.” Flustered, Ren told me to stay there as he went back into the bathroom and opened the cabinet the first aid kit was in.
When he didn’t come back right away, I stared down at the droplets of blood next to me on the light hardwood and I heard, “You need to get to Della’s. Now. Yeah, yeah. I’m not your number one fan either, buddy. Just do it.” There was murmured grumbling before he was back by my side. “You’re crazy. Absolutely nuts. But I’ve also decided that I never want to fight you because that was one mean right hook and would probably hurt if it’d been a human on the other side of the blow.”
He shook his head and rambled on as he cleaned me up. The sting of the spray and wipes he used had me hissing, but he ignored them. I deserved it, I realized. The pain.
But I found myself smiling slightly knowing I couldn’t see that girl again. Not for a long time. And when Theo arrived…I was crying for an entirely new reason.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Theo
She was lucky she didn’t need stitches. She was even luckier that I wasn’t around when she decided to put her fist through a mirror because I would have lost it. I wasn’t planning on braiding best friend bracelets with Pretty Boy, or even use his name like she continued to ask of me, but I was grateful for him—that he’d been there for her.
Which begged the question, “Why didn’t you tell me, Della?” Her friend had left hours ago after helping me clean up her bathroom. The dog was fed and curled in a ball on Della’s lap as they sat on the couch, not willing to leave her side when I stepped away to do something. Her hand was wrapped with gauze, her feet bandaged and socked because of the small cuts she’d gotten, but it was her spirit that was burdened. And I understood it. In a way.
“I would have been there,” I continued, setting a plate of food in front of her. Pancakes, eggs, and three pieces of bacon, so she could feed one to the dog despite me scolding her for it. “I told you I would have stayed.” I put the syrup, the real kind, beside the plate to let her put as much as she wanted onto the stack.
“I know you would have,” was the only reply I got in a quiet tone as she stared at the food in front of her.
“Then why didn’t you tell me?” I didn’t expect much from her. Honesty was never hard to come by when it came to Della because she’d lived too long in the dark from her father’s lies. Which was why hearing about Katrina from Pretty Boy made the sting of not being told firsthand from her feel like a punch to the gut. And the little frat fucker knew by the smile on his face when he delivered the news.
Her hand reached for Ramsay, stroking his fur until he dropped to his side for her to scratch his stomach like he loved. “I was afraid to admit I’d done something stupid. I was hoping Ren would…I don’t know. Tell me I did? Tell me I made a mistake?”
“Like punching a mirror wasn’t stupid?”
Her lips twitched upward. “That wasn’t the dumbest thing I’ve done lately, but it wasn’t the best choice.” She gazed at her hand. “I could have stopped her, Theo. If Flamell or somebody finds out—”
“Flamell isn’t going after you,” I told her with the kind of hardness in my tone that drowned the room. Even if he suggested using her in any way to bear witness to Murphy’s actions, I wouldn’t allow it. I told him as much.
“Whatever the fuck happens, keep Adele out of it. I don’t want her facing any of the assholes her father got caught up in.”
“And if she’d be key to stopping those assholes from inflicting more damage?” he’d countered with a brow raised.
My retort was quick. “She’s been through enough, don’t you think?”
Thankfully, he agreed. Reluctantly.
“The things you’ve had to deal with in your lifetime have been unfair and unjust, but you’ve survived. We’ve been through this. I won’t let you suffer anymore.” The frown I was met with had me sitting beside her, brushing her arm. “Hey. What’d I tell you before? It’s not going to be easy, but we’ll get through it.”
“Not easy,” she repeated dully. “My childhood best friend overdosed on drugs that I may or may not have given her. When you said things wouldn’t be easy, I thought you meant between us. With people’s opinions. Not…this. Not Kat. None of it.”
“Flamell is going to take care of it.” When she met me with a doubtful stare, I had to come clean fully. About everything—every detail I’d held back, every picture Flamell had against Richard Pratt, and the shit that Henry Murphy was caught up in because of him. And now, according to Flamell’s talk with the officers investigating Katrina Murphy’s tragic death, there was little doubt about who was responsible. It wasn’t Della. It all came back to the same man.
Richard Pratt.
Weaving our fingers together, I brushed my thumb across the back of her hand and said, “I wanted to talk to you about this when things were settled. Flamell had every intention of making an arrest by the week’s end. Katrina’s death almost seems like the last nail in the coffin for Pratt.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that he and the people he blackmails won’t be able to get away with the shit they’ve done. The others might get off with less punishment compared to Pratt, but they’ll still be convicted. The NYPD has been after the people responsible for illegal activity in this city for a long time, Della. It was a shame that people had to die for them to get what they needed, but it’s over.”
She visibly swallowed, meeting my eyes at last before wetting her bottom lip. “And Sam? Gina? They’re using too, Theo. What if they end up like Kat?”