What I don’t expect is to find him cornered, with Zane in his face hissing something about a rap sheet and drugs.
Drugs? Oh holy crap.
The blood leaves my head, and I sway a little as I approach them, needing to hear it all, even if I don’t really want to. Even if I’m not sure I’ll be able to hear anything over the deafening sound of my heart breaking to a thousand pieces.
Chapter Nineteen
Seth
“When were you gonna tell me, fucker? About your rap sheet? About the drug charges?” Zane’s voice is a low growl that has my hackles up. “Possession, and possibly trafficking. What the fuck, Seth?”
He’s crowding me in, pushing me into the wall, and I don’t even fucking care because all I can think is that he found out.
How the hell? Why?
“You.” Zane jabs a hard finger into my chest. His teeth are bared. “I let you and Shane into my family. My gang. Let you hang around the clients. Around Tyler and Asher’s kids, dammit. Are you still using? Are you dealing drugs, fucker?”
“Fuck, no. I don’t deal drugs, never—”
He shoves me into the wall, and something in my bad shoulder twists painfully. “Why should I believe you? Once a liar, always a fucking liar.”
“Z-man.” Ocean is tugging on Zane’s hoodie. “Whatcha doing? There are customers.”
“Fuck.” Zane doesn’t move, still in my face. “You should have told me,” he hisses and steps back.
“You wouldn’t have believed me if I had, any more than you do now,” I snarl back.
That’s when I notice them. Micah, Ev, Jesse.
And Christ, Manon. She’s right there, next to Tyler, her mouth pressed thin.
“You should have told me,” she whispers, her eyes welling up. “God, you should have told me.”
She claps a hand over her mouth, spins on her heel and runs out.
“Fuck.” I knock my head back on the wall, barely feeling it. “Christ.”
“What’s going on here?” Tyler looms behind Zane, his dark eyes fixed on me. “Believe what?”
I swallow hard. “That Shane and I had nothing to do with it. That we were innocent.”
“The judge thought differently,” Zane says grimly.
I shift against the wall, my shoulder weirdly numb, like my head. “We were set up.”
“Yeah? By who?”
“My mother and her new husband. They were the ones dealing the fucking drugs.”
“Why would she do that to you?”
“Because she’s a selfish bitch, that’s why!” I don’t know why I’m still fighting, after all this time, after nobody has believed me, ever. Who would believe my own mother set me up? Probably wouldn’t believe it myself if I heard it from someone else. “She watched as her man broke my bones, then they grabbed their bags and left, calling the police to come pick me up.”
“Why would she do such a thing?” Tyler asks, leaning in over Zane’s shoulder.
“Because I was stupid.” I have to swallow again, the lump in my throat not going away. “I threatened to call in the cops if she didn’t stop. If she didn’t keep spending all the money she got from social services on heroin and crack and her boyfriend’s booze. If she didn’t run a goddamn drug cartel from our house. Shit.”
Can’t breathe. Don’t know what this is. It’s not fear or panic. It’s an overwhelming sadness that crushes my chest and won’t let my lungs work.
“Rafe was trying to get you a job,” Zane is saying, his voice a distant buzz. “To help you out, fucker. That’s how he found out.”
“Sorry,” I wheeze, wondering what this is—if I’m having a heart attack or something. Aren’t I too young? “For everything.”
“Fuck.” Zane stomps away from me, and I look into Tyler’s hard face.
“Go home,” he tells me. “Stay put. Zane’s pissed, but he’s a fair guy. He’ll look into this.”
Yeah, right. Whatever. Why the hell would he? My rap sheet says it all. I’m guilty. I’m an ex-con. Manon’s gone. Damage Control is gone. All I hoped for is gone up in smoke.
It’s all over for me. Didn’t know the end would come so soon, but like they say—when it rains, it pours.
Story of my life.
***
Gathering my jacket, I limp across Damage, heading to the exit.
The walk of shame. Everyone heard what Zane said, what I said. Tyler, Jesse, Micah, Ev, Ocean.
Didn’t think I’d feel ashamed for something I didn’t do. Something that was beyond my control, but Zane’s words cut deep.
I lied to him. Yeah, I did. To protect Shane. To protect myself. But I get where Zane is coming from. He said it to my face. This is his family, people he swore to protect, and my covering up of the truth put them—and his shop—at risk.
What the hell am I gonna do now? My mind’s numb as I step outside and a shiver wracks me. My shoulder aches dully, but it’s nothing serious, I can tell. The pain matches the ache in my head.
Work, that’s all I can fucking do. Try to save up enough for the rent, and look into a cheaper place, like I’ve been meaning to do. It’s time to move on, try to salvage what I have: a roof over my head, food in my mouth.
Shit, Manon… The look on her face, the disbelief, the horror. That shouldn’t hurt so much, not as much as losing Damage and the family I had there—because goddammit, it was my family, too—but it does. Twists inside me like a knife, scrapes against my heart.
Can’t think about her now, or I’ll break down right here, in the middle of the fucking street.
I board the bus, walk back to my apartment, hands in the pockets of my jacket. At least I can walk, I think, despite the limp, and almost cackle out loud at my pathetic attempt to keep my sanity.
What good is walking when I have to crawl?
I climb the stairs to my apartment, one slow step after another, massaging my shoulder. Pulling my key out, I unlock the door, step into my apartment.
My apartment.
A year ago, those two words wouldn’t have fit together. I lived in an alley, and my belongings consisted of a filthy sleeping bag and a Thermos someone gave me. Can’t lose this. It was easier when I had no hope.
I take a leak, stare at my scowling expression in the mirror, look into my bedroom, at the stacks of sci-fi and romances. Happy endings. Maybe that’s the problem. I read so many of those books while in bed I thought I’d get a happy ending, too, but I guess that’s for fictional characters, not for the likes of me.
This shit’s real. Real fucking life.
Someone’s pounding on my door. Shit. I hobble through the living room and check the peep hole. Not taking any chances.
A guy’s looming outside, darkening my doorway.
Shane.
Heaving a sigh of relief, I open the door and step back to let him in. “Hey, man.”
With a blast of cold air, he follows me inside, draws his fist back and drives it into my gut. “Fuck you, Seth.”
I stumble back, try to get my footing—and miss. I tumble to the floor, land weird, right on my bad shoulder. Something cracks. I wonder if it’s a bone.
A moment of stillness, then the blinding pain hits. I struggle to draw breath, bile rising in my throat as the fire shoots from my shoulder down my arm and my back, reaching into my stomach and twisting it.
Shane’s talking. Something about betraying his trust, about being an asshole who dragged him into all of this.
He’s right. I did this to him. He got into prison for me, and now he may lose everything, again because of me.
“They sent me home,” Shane says. “It wasn’t your goddamn place to tell them about me, Seth.”
I try to explain, try to draw enough breath and force it past my gritting teeth to form words. “Rafe. Didn’t tell.”
“What the fuck ever,” Shane mutters and turns to go. “Stay away from me.”
“Shane.” It comes out as a wheeze, barely audible. “Wait.”
But he’s already out and gone.
Fuck. Me.
I’m so fucking ready for this day to be over. Clutching my arm, I roll to get up, the pain making me dizzy, sending pretty black spots dancing in my vision.
Would this be all for today, life? Are we done?