BLUE
“There. Done.”
I stand back and look at the two suitcases I’ve packed to capacity, feeling like a superhero for having actually gotten this done tonight. Sure, I’m exhausted from the dance and… other activities, but I can always sleep on the plane.
“Good for you, but let the record show that I finished an hour ago,” West gloats through the phone.
I smile and stick out my tongue as if he can see it. “Everyone knows boys only pack a pair of boxers, a stick of deodorant, and one change of clothes. So, if that’s something you’re proud to call a win, then so be it.”
He laughs softly into my ear and I drop down onto the bed.
“Have a good time tonight?” he asks, which causes flashes of our evening to flood my thoughts.
“I had the best time, actually. Thanks for making me feel normal.”
He’s quiet on the other end and now I’m thinking about the pool. Or, more specifically, the words he said to me while we were there.
“I can’t wait for the plane to land,” he says with a sigh. “You’re gonna love the bayou.”
“You don’t have to convince me. I just want to get out of here.”
I hadn’t meant that to be funny, but West laughs again.
“I don’t think any of us can. My family’s gonna love you, though. Just brace yourself to be hugged to death by some of my aunts, and they’ll probably ask you a million questions. If I know my grandfather, he’s planning some kind of gathering for when we first get there.”
The thought of it makes my heart beat just a little faster. “How many people are we talking?”
West chuckles. “We’ll just say a lot, but like I said, they’ll love you.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“What’s not to love?” he reasons, which has me grinning like a child.
“Guess I’ll just take your word for it.”
He yawns before speaking, which makes me yawn. “Relax. The best part is, no Vin.”
The very idea of that has me feeling lighter. “Thank God for small favors.”
“I’d consider that a big favor,” West counters.
He isn’t wrong.
The line goes quiet again and I imagine he’s deep in thought like I am, maybe going over all the B.S. we won’t miss while we’re away from this place.
“Fuck it,” West seems to say to himself, which makes me snort a laugh. “I’m just gonna say it, and if I scare you, just forget I brought it up, but I think we should make a pact.”
“You had my attention at ‘fuck it’,” I tease.
“It’s no secret that we’ve both got shit parents,” he begins. “With the exception of my mom, I guess. Maybe. Anyway, I think I came up with a plan. Way, way in the future, we should agree to have a shitload of kids and just be the best fucking parents ever.”
I’m laughing again, and also a little shocked. One, because he’s planning so far ahead for us. And two, because this is the first time he’s ever mentioned wanting a family in the future. I guess I just didn’t realize he made plans beyond college and football.
“I like that idea,” I answer, feeling my cheeks warm at the thought of it—us spending our lives together, parenting together. “But what exactly do you mean by a ‘shitload’? Because, as the one who’d have to push out this shitload, I’m a bit concerned.”
“Don’t be,” he reasons. “Seven or eight should do it.”
I cough out a laugh before remembering Scar’s asleep down the hall. “No way, buddy. Three’s the limit.”
“Four,” he counters.
My smile broadens. “If you promise to wait on me hand and foot through it all, you have yourself a deal.”
He doesn’t even pause to think about it. “That’s easy. Deal.”
My heart flutters just imagining it, being with him forever, having a family together. For half a second, it makes me sad because I’m still seeing our circumstances as an obstacle we might not overcome. But then, this dream of a future gives me something I don’t expect.
Something more to fight for.
“I love you, West Golden.” I say it simply because it feels like I’ll explode if I don’t.
“I know,” he counters, “but nowhere near as much as I love you.”
Staring at the ceiling, I’m still fantasizing about this picture he’s painted in my head when he speaks again.
“Just as a heads up, when we get to my grandfather’s place, I plan to tell him everything,” West admits.
I’m admittedly curious why he’s decided this.
“You really think that’ll make a difference?” I ask.
“Well, there’s no way of knowing for sure, but he’s pretty well connected, and he hates Vin. So, at the very least, he’ll be motivated to help if he can. I just think it wouldn’t hurt bringing him up to speed, then hearing his perspective.”
I’m quiet, but only because I’m thinking. “Okay. If you think that’s best.”
“I do. The worst thing that could happen is he doesn’t know anything more than we do.”
“I trust your judgment,” I say, yawning into the receiver.
“You should get some sleep. We have to be at the airport in five hours,” West reminds me.
I glance at the time. It’s already two. “Yeah, I didn’t realize it was so late.”
“We’re gonna grab Joss first since she’s closer, then we’ll be at your place around six. Sound okay?” he asks.
“Yeah, we’ll be ready.”
Damn, I’ve got butterflies just thinking about leaving so soon.
“Didn’t you set the alarm?” he asks.
Laughing, I roll my eyes. “Yes, Dad, I set it.”
“Mmm… you sure about that? Because I’m looking at the app right now and it says otherwise.” He’s being cynical and it makes me want to punch him. Gently, of course.
I pull the phone away from my ear and put it on speaker to check for myself. Sure enough, it says it’s disarmed, but I know I set it.
“Looks like it turned off about ten minutes ago,” he adds, sounding slightly on edge now. “Does anyone else have the code?”
“No. Just me and Scar.”
“I’m on my way,” he rushes to say, sounding like he’s already out of bed and changing clothes.
My chest feels tight and every breath I take comes and goes just a little too quickly. Without hesitating, I’m on my feet and headed toward the closet. It’s where the gun is stashed, but I never thought I’d actually have to touch the thing again. It was just for peace of mind, but apparently that assumption was wrong.
With shaky hands, I lower the box. Despite this being the last thing in the world I want to do right now, it’s what I have to do. I have it loaded quickly—thanks to Mike’s instructions—then I move toward my bedroom door.
“Stay put until I get there,” West urges, but that’s not even an option.
“I can’t. I have to at least get to Scar,” I whisper, feeling dizzy from how quickly blood rushes through my veins.
“Fine,” he huffs, brimming with frustration and fear. “Go, then lock yourself in her room. I’ll be there as fast as I can.”
The next thing I hear is his engine revving in the background, then tires screeching over pavement.
I turn the doorknob and peer out into the darkness. I hear nothing, but that doesn’t settle my nerves. The only reason I’m even able to put one foot in front of the other to leave my bedroom is because I need to get to my sister.
My steps are feather light as I make my way to her door, and the moment I reach it, I turn the knob and rush to her bed. My plan is to quietly wake her, but when I feel my way through the dark space and attempt to shake her shoulder, my hands sink into an empty mattress.
“She’s gone,” I say into the phone, feeling air rush in and out as I pant.
“What?”
“She’s not here, West!”
Gripping my hair, I do a complete three-sixty before thinking to check her closet, the bathroom. Maybe she heard something and got spooked and the first thing she thought to do was hide. However, when I check those places, no longer being careful about keeping the noise down, I find nothing.
Instinct has me checking her window, but it’s locked. Next, I go to the back door and snatch it open. There, in the snow, I spot two sets of fresh footprints.
“Someone’s been here,” I whisper into the phone. “I’m going out to see where they went.”
“Like hell you are! Stay in the fucking house, Southside.”
The stern tone he’s taken with me means nothing, because… where the fuck is Scarlett?
“I’m going. I have to.” I stare out across the yard, getting up the nerve as the weight of the gun in my hand becomes ten times heavier.
“Just stay where you are,” West argues.
“I can’t. If she’s out there, I have to at least check.”
With no time left to hesitate, I slide both feet halfway inside whatever sneakers were left by the door, then make my way out into the freezing cold. It hits my bare legs where my shorts stop, feeling like razor blades slicing through my skin.
Focusing on the tracks, I follow them to where they stop at the side door of the garage. This is when I notice there’s an orange extension cord connected to the receptacle box, and then wedged beneath the weatherstrip. I know it wasn’t like this the last time I checked. At any rate, it’ll be pitch black inside, so I lower the phone from my ear and turn on its flashlight. God only knows what I’ll find when I open this door, but I brave it anyway.
I kind of have to.
