Oscar’s rant has me squeezing my nails into myself. “Nope. No. Not happening. Big Daddy K is going to pay for what he did to me. I’m not leaving the Heights until it’s done.” I meet Oscar’s gaze. When I see him, I see his body wrecked by more than just football. His mind, too. Growing up anywhere else, Oscar would’ve been someone. Colleges would be knocking his door down. I saw it enough in the fancy little prep school I used to go to. No wonder why he’s so damn ready to get out of here. “I don’t want to keep you here,” I tell him, meaning every word.
Oscar gets to his feet, stepping around me and storming to the other side of the room. “I’m not leaving.”
I move to my feet and pad over to him. He’s staring out the window, arms crossed. I slip my arms around him from the back, pulling him to me. “We’re not giving up our dreams. It’s like, what, December?”
Oscar laughs, the sound pained and lost. “So, after you kill K, you’re just going to what? Continue on at another high school? Go to college like nothing happened?” He places his hand on my arm to soften the blow.
I step in front of him, lifting my head at a slight angle so I can look him in the eye. “I am. It’s about living the rest of my life just as much as it ever was about killing K. To me, if we all don’t get out of here and start living those lives we wanted before the Crew, killing K won’t have mattered. I need you to dream, Oscar. I need you to apply for colleges where you can play football.”
He shakes his head. “No one’s looking at me, Kyla. Scouts won’t even come to the Heights.”
“Then you make them look. Didn’t you tell me about some scholarship before?”
He grimaces. “The All-State? It’s not happening.”
“Then we’ll do something else. We’ll get you some aid and you can be a walk on. You can play a year at a community college and then get recruited to a bigger one. You must have film of you playing, right? I’ll help you send out copies to every school in this state. Hell, to any schools in this country. You’re good, Oscar Drego. You deserve to be seen.”
Oscar takes my hands and moves them off him. He gives me a half-hearted smile. “I lost the fight in me somewhere along the way, Princess.” He squeezes my hands. “I mean, I’m just a druggy prostitute’s son.” He drops my hands and turns.
I don’t let him get far. “No. No, fuck that,” I say, eyeing all three of them. “I don’t care who we are here. Here, in the Heights, I’m a soon-to-be murderer. Oscar, you’re the would-have-been star quarterback. Brawler, you’re the bare-knuckle fighter who fights for the local crowd when you should be in an octagon in the UFC. Magnum…I don’t know. Fuck.” Reminder to myself to find out what Magnum would be if he left here because I’m dying to know. Surely, his goal isn’t to keep the Heights Crew alive anymore. “This is just something I’m doing right now to get to where I want to be. It’s like braving the storm to get out the other side unscathed.”
“What do you want, Kyla?” Magnum asks. “When all this is over?”
I swallow to keep my emotions in check. What I want is so basic. I don’t dare to think beyond that. I don’t know about college, though I think it’s a good idea. I don’t know about fighting, even though I’d love to. But all that would be icing on the cake because what I really, really want is to just be surrounded by people I love. That’s all I’ve ever wanted since I was twelve. “You,” I say. “All of you. Around me. Being there for me. Caring for me.” The L-word is on the tip of my tongue, but fuck if I can say it right now. I don’t want to put a name to the emotion because what if I lose it all again? It will eat me from the inside out next time.
Brawler rises to his feet. My heart lodges in my throat as he prowls forward, not giving me any time to think. He dips, capturing my lips with his, kissing me thoroughly. His tongue presses against my lips until I relent, giving