Their Will be Done - Logan Fox Page 0,45

can’t stop.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

I close my mouth over Cass’s and breathe into him, feeling his chest rise under my palm.

Once. Twice.

Start compressions.

Ten.

Twenty.

Thirty.

Gabriel sits back on his heels. His phone is out. He’s talking to someone, but fuck knows who.

It’s all over.

He knows.

And I don’t give a fuck because I’m losing Cass.

Already lost him.

Fuck.

Fuck!

“Stay with me,” I yell before breathing into his mouth again. Once, twice. “Stay the fuck with me!”

My ears whine like a buzzsaw. Cass’s chest feels too spongy under my stacked palms, like I’m pushing down on a mattress and not my brother’s chest. I will the force of every push to draw air back into his lungs, to massage his heart, to do whatever the fuck it was CPR is supposed to.

“Breathe!” I yell.

Gabriel’s hand comes into view. For a sickening moment I think he’s going to pull me away, to tell me I have to stop, that Cass is already dead. But instead he simply grabs the edge of Cass’s t-shirt and draws it down his stomach.

Covering the countless cigarette burns scattered over his skin.

Marks I made.

Pain I inflicted.

My cheeks are wet, and I know I shouldn’t be crying for some random student in front of Gabriel, but fuck knows how I’m supposed to stop.

I’m sorry.

I’m so fucking sorry.

I wish I could take back every nasty word I ever said to you, every fucked up thought, everything.

Every-fucking-thing.

“Zachary.”

I’m staring at my meshed fingers as I shove down Cass’s ribs. Twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven—

“Zachary!”

I look up Gabriel, my face twisted with rage, with pain, with defeat. His eyes narrow, and his mouth thins into a stern line. “Stop.”

“Fuck you,” I growl out.

Gabriel’s eyes dart up to his hairline. “Brother Zachary—” he says, reaching for me.

“Fuck, stop,” someone croaks. A hand slaps weakly at my wrist. “Stop!”

I sit back and end up falling the last few inches onto my ass. Cass rolls onto his side, wheezing and gagging like I’d stuck my fingers down his throat. He puts a hand on his chest where I’d been doing the compressions and moans like a gutted pig.

“I heard something give,” Gabriel says quietly. “You might have cracked a rib.”

Jesus fucking Christ.

I scramble up, whipping my hands through my hair. The skin of my face is cold, tingling, two sizes too small. “I’m sorry,” I hear someone say. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

“Go wait outside, child,” Gabriel says.

Blood whines as it races through my veins. “Cass—Cassius, I’m so sorry.”

“Zachary!”

My eyes dart back to Gabriel. His face is pale, his mouth a hard, trembling line. He points at the door. “You’ve done enough. Go and wait outside.”

It feels like I’m dragging my legs through concrete to get to the door.

I’m barely outside a moment before I hear running feet. Brother Timothy shoves me aside when I don’t move, and falls down beside Cass, a paramedic’s jump bag dropping to the floor by his knees.

“Cassius, can you hear me?” Timothy demands, grabbing Cass’s shoulders and shaking him.

“Yes, fuck. Stop that, would you? It hurts. God.”

I step back further and further, until I can’t hear Cass’s voice.

I broke him.

I brought him back, but then I broke him.

The fuck is wrong with me?

My shaking hands curl into fists as I turn and force myself to walk away. There’s nothing more for me to do here.

Like Gabriel said, I’ve done enough.

I’ve done enough.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Trinity

A green light starts blinking on the device. I should take it out and shut down the laptop so I can put it back under the bed, but I can’t. I’m frozen to the spot—faced with an email my brain doesn’t seem capable of processing.

Dearest Gabe,

I wish you had never left Redmond.

I know it’s been months since we last spoke, and it seems I only ever contact you when I need something, but I truly hope you understand my reasons.

I know you are busy at the school, and you made it very clear that I shouldn’t contact you again…but Keith needs your help.

We need your help.

Things have progressed to a stage where I’m not sure I can keep this marriage together any longer.

My intention is not to guilt you into replying. I understand that there’s a chance you might not even see this email. But I hope you do.

You’ve saved my marriage countless times before. I hesitate to ask, but can you save it again?

Can you bring us back to God’s glorious light?

We need you, Gabe.

Keith most of all.

Please.

Monica.

The fire pops, breaking me from my trance. I whirl around to look at the clock.