because he refused to see what was right in front of him. Did I miss the family meeting where it was decided that we’d all just move past this…” I’m yelling. My voice breaking like brittle glass, shards stabbing at our already tender wounds.
My dad clears his throat. “Camryn, sweetheart—”
“Don’t use that voice on me,” I cut him off. “You all may have forgiven him, but I haven’t.”
“The circumstances—”
“I get his pain,” I concede angrily. “I’m not denying him that. But if Kane Shay killed you.” I gesture to my dad standing in his office, the epitome of calm. “Would I have conspired with Codi to take Parker‘s life?”
“Of course not,” Codi argues. “But that’s because we were raised with love. Rocco was molded in hate.”
I sigh. “You’re asking me to do something I don’t want to do. I’ve stitched his face once, that was my good deed.”
“He’s really hurt, Ryn.” Codi’s purple eyes are filled with tears, panic streaked across her features.
“Because he fights for fun,” I contend.
“You’ll have him die because you want to hold a grudge?”
There’s little I hate more than being manipulated. Which is exactly what my sister is doing right now. Playing on my conscience, on an oath I’d taken eagerly.
I step back in shock. “That’s not fair. All I’m saying is that he should go to a hospital.”
“Questions will be asked,” my dad answers.
I laugh sardonically, irritated that they won’t let this go. “Nothing you can’t clear up for him, Father.”
“Watch your tone, Camryn,” he warns, and it’s the first time I’ve ever heard my dad speak to me with such authority, with such demand. “No one is asking you to befriend him, Camryn,” he continues more gently. “All I ask of you is to care for his injury until he’s well enough to go back home.”
I open my mouth to say no, my words catching in my throat as Parker steps forward.
I don’t know if his imposing nature has worn off, the love of my sister quietening the demons that stir within him. Or if I’m just so used to his presence, I can no longer see the darkness.
“You found it in yourself to forgive me,” he speaks quietly. “I’m not askin’ you to do the same for Roc. I’m just asking you to help me save the only family I have left.”
I swallow my animosity.
“He’s all I’ve got left, Ryn. Please.”
My eyes close in defeat.
“Thank you,” he whispers, reading my reluctant acceptance.
“You manipulated me to get your way,” I bite out. “Save your thank you. Where is he?”
“Your old room,” Codi mumbles.
“You have got to be fucking kidding me.” I storm past her, moving toward the staircase with purpose.
This was the last thing I wanted or needed. Avoiding Rocco Shay has quickly become my number one priority. I don’t want to know him. I don’t want to fall down a hopeless hole of pity because of the life he’s been forced to live. I sure as shit don’t want to understand him or the way his fucking mess of a mind works.
Our similarities have become like a cancer, growing steadily within me. Small moments of accord I felt creeping inside of me last time we spoke, spreading like a wildfire I needed to extinguish. The threat of both destruction and devastation in finding camaraderie with someone like Rocco Shay all too real.
I throw my door open with an exaggerated force of anger. The handle hitting the plaster with a crack that shakes the wall.
Rocco lies on my bed, a towel held weakly against his side. The usual tan of his skin has faded, replaced by a shade paler than white. His breathing is quick and sharp, his body attempting to pull oxygen in at a rate too quickly. Eyes closed over, his eyelids flutter open. He attempts a smile when he sees me, but it barely forms before it’s replaced with a pained grimace. He coughs; every one of his features twisting in agony before he passes out again.
“Fuck,” I worry.
“What can I do?” I hear the restrained panic in Parker’s voice.
“Towels,” I instruct. “There’s also a medical bag in my closet.” I point to the corner of my old room.
I move closer to Rocco, my fingers gripping at his wrist to feel his pulse.
“Cold,” Rocco breathes out.
“You’re burning up,” I tell him, watching Parker return with my bag.
Dropping to my knees, I pull at the towel pushed against his side. The pristine white of the material is forever lost, now stained