and yet we gravitate toward each other as if guided by something otherworldly. We can’t work, there won’t be books written about our story. Who the fuck would want to read something so tragic that was destined to fail from the start?
And yet, it’s always been the Reid brothers for me. My very own kryptonite. They make me weak, make me feel, make me want things I have no right to want, and they offer me nothing in return but pretty little false hopes wrapped up in blood-red bows.
“Hey.” His hand at my jaw snaps me out of my thoughts. I look up at him and memorize his face. Each bruise, scratch, and blemish upon his skin that does nothing to hide the handsomeness beneath it.
“Why are the wolves always so pretty and the sheep so bland?” I muse to myself.
“You ready?” His voice rumbles over me.
“No, but we still need to go,” I answer, but I don’t move, staring my fill. I memorize the slope of his nose, the curve of his jaw, the intensity ever-present in his eyes, in case this is the last time. I’ll hold these moments and a dozen others so tightly inside me that the winds of change can’t blow them away.
Only time will tell if this will be the beginning of something new for us or the unraveling of what we already have. If it’s the end, I’ll want these memories, no matter how painful, to torture myself with, like I do when I drag out the ones related to my brother.
“Come on,” he murmurs, his voice low as if the heaviness of the moment weighs upon his shoulders. He slides his hand over mine, holding me to him as we walk slowly back toward where he parked earlier.
I feel his eyes on me as he climbs into the driver’s seat, but I turn away from him and look out the passenger side window. I watch the families in the park as we pull away, wondering how they sleep at night, knowing some monsters lurk in the dark like Zodiac, like Kai and Jude, and like me. Or perhaps they sleep at night because there are monsters out there like us, willing to do the things most people can’t stomach.
Some people have a strong moral compass, a rigid definition of what’s right and wrong, black and white, good and evil. They see the world in balance like some kind of living and breathing yin and yang, but it’s all about perception. People choose to see what they want, inserting their version of what makes things black and white. It’s like looking at the world through rose-tinted glasses when really everything is just shades of gray.
Good and evil are subjective. Good people can do bad things and bad people can be useful. Like the yin and yang, there can be no light without darkness, but the idea that it’s a fair balance is a fucking joke.
My moral compasses were smashed years ago underneath the size eleven Italian loafers that crept into my room in the dead of night.
Do I consider myself bad? No, I don’t go around preying on the weak and vulnerable. I have no interest in sullying the innocent. If anything, innocence is something I like to preserve, knowing how fleeting it can be. But I have zero problem invoking my fury on those I deem deserve it. Does that mean I’m playing god? Perhaps, but someone has to. Where the fuck was my god when I prayed on my knees with blood slicked thighs?
No, I make the rules in my life, and if that means playing judge, jury, and executioner, then so be it.
“I’m not used to you being so quiet, it’s kind of unnerving,” Jude teases, but his tone is off, letting me know that he’s telling the truth. My silence worries him.
“Sorry, lost in thought.” I smile, hoping it doesn’t look as forced as it feels.
My phone rings at that point, so I reach behind me to slide it from my pocket, answering it when I see its Danny.
“Hey, D, what’s up?” I ask, keeping my tone neutral.
He’ll know from me calling him D, that I’m not alone. This isn’t our first rodeo, working out a system where I could inform them in seconds if it was safe to talk or not was paramount.
“Just wanted to let you know the Doc patched Ben up and he is now sleeping it off with a fancy cocktail of pain meds. He