“Two updates. Go!” Kennedy screams. We’re sitting in Florentino’s, but she’s clearly not afraid of getting fired, even though she’s the loudest person in here during her break. She basically runs the shop, doing everyone’s job for them.
“I’ll go first,” Wren suggests. “Number one; Marley finally started calling me by my name and it’s the cutest thing I’ve ever heard. Number two; Miles taught him how to call me ‘Wrenny.’”
She sulks at her boyfriend’s insistent use of the nickname she hates. It’s a little sickly, but mostly it’s adorable.
“I was rooting for this update,” Kennedy says, shaking her head. “Miles is so cute with Marley. Do you think you’re ready for kids?”
“Kennedy!” I scream, looking between them.
“It’s just a question. I love kids. If I had a man who loved me the way he loves you, I’d be begging for a child,” Kennedy says, her eyes lighting up at the idea.
“No, I don’t want children right now, Kennedy,” Wren argues, a little confused. “If Miles ever put a baby in me, I’d never speak to him again. My body would be ruined.”
“But isn’t it worth it? You’d get to see a baby you or a baby him,” Kennedy coos.
“Trust me, nothing turns me on more than seeing him fall asleep with my nephew on his chest, but I do not want any children right now. It’s way too early to think about,” she says with finality. If Kennedy doesn’t stop, she’s going to end up manifesting it. “Anyway, enough talk about children. Scar, what are your updates?”
I think for a second, picking apart the banana bread I ordered. I shove a piece in my mouth, needing the time to think.
I still haven’t told them about me and Evan becoming whatever we are again. And they still don’t know about the kiss, which I’m never planning on telling them about. If they know we kissed multiple times and that he finger fucked me into next week in the library, they’d never let me live it down. It’s too difficult to put into words the way he makes me feel and I don’t know if they would fully understand it yet.
“Okay, update one; I’ve got through the final chapters of the sequel to Stolen Kingdom. And no, Wren, before you ask, I’m not okay. That ending was brutal,” I say, and she grins, knowing that her book is full of emotional turmoil. “Oh, and second; Evan has got this nerdy band recital thingy at school, and he wants us to come. Xavier, Michelle, and Miles are going too.”
“What?” I ask, narrowing my eyes.
“Nothing,” she chirps, shoving her milkshake straw into her mouth. I raise an eyebrow. “It’s just the first time you’ve mentioned him since the event.”
“Yeah, well, we’re back on good terms now,” I say, shrugging noncommittally.
“By good terms, you mean you confessed your undying love for each other, right?” Kennedy says.
“I don’t love him for God’s sake. Why does everyone keep saying that?” I mutter angrily. I deflect. “Ken, what are your updates?”
She narrows her eyes at my very obvious change in subject. “Uh, I don’t have anything this week. Sorry.”
“What do you mean? Something is always going on with you.”
“Okay, jeez, you don’t have to make it sound like a bad thing. I’m not a complete disaster, you know,” she says, trying to laugh, but it comes out strange. She’s clearly upset about something, and I want to figure it out before Wren says something back.
“What’s going on, Ken,” I press gently. She sighs, playing with her plastic coffee cup.
“I’m just struggling a bit with classes. Inspiration isn’t an easy thing to find these days,” she admits, her shoulders slumping. “I’m trying to be positive about it, but the truth is, it sucks.”
“I get that, Kenny,” Wren says, placing her hand over Kennedy’s so she stops fidgeting. “I wasn’t trying to sound rude earlier. I just mean you usually have something fun to talk about. I was just surprised, that’s all.”
“I know. It’s okay. It’s just me. I don’t know… I just can’t be happy all the time and it’s exhausting,” she replies. “And I want to be happy for you guys. You guys need me to be the happy one. It’s how we work, isn’t it?”
“You don’t have to be ‘the happy one,’ Ken and that’s okay. I mean look at us,’ I say, gesturing between Wren and me. “We’re grumps most of the time. It’s okay not to be happy, you know?”
“I know. I just really, really like being happy and positive for you guys,” she replies quietly.
“Then let us be happy and positive for you. We’ll be your cheerleaders, Ken,” I say, smiling up at her.
“Yeah?” she asks hopefully, those brown eyes lighting up.
“Of course,” Wren says, waving imaginary pom-poms.
And we do. We tell her our full-proof tactics to give your brain a rest and allow it time to breathe and settle. We eat, talk, laugh, and cry over the table, even facetiming Gigi while we’re at it. When Ken returns back to behind the counter, finishing the shift I’m unsure how she gets paid for, it’s just me and Wren at the table.
She talks to me about how she and Miles are thinking of doing skating classes at the local rink this summer. There’s something so magical about the way Wren talks about him. As much as she rolls her eyes and calls him an idiot, there’s also that unwavering sense of appreciation and love in her eyes. Honestly, it makes me a little bit queasy.
As we walk back to our apartment, my phone buzzes in my pocket and I pull it out.
MOM: Come over to the hospital as soon as you can. Some updates on dad. The plane is ready.
My mom is a sucker for a cryptic message. I stop walking towards the apartment as I laugh a little at her weird trait and type out a reply.
“Hey, I’m going to go to the hospital to see my dad,” I tell Wren when we get to the doors of our building. Wren turns around, her brown-green eyes instantly fill with worry.
“Is everything okay?” she asks.
“Yeah, probably. My mom’s just being her usual cryptic self,” I explain with a shrug.
“Okay. Let me know when you land,” she replies before slipping into the building.
I’m strapped safely into the cream leather seats of my family’s plane when my phone lights up with a call. Since the event, Evan and I haven’t been able to talk or meet up much, but apparently he thinks now is the appropriate time to call me.
Since Gio died, I’ve tried to be more accepting towards everything in life, realising how fleeting life is and to actually embrace the smallest of things. Well, I don’t have that tattoo on my hip for no reason.
Still, I like to mess with Evan as much as he likes to mess with me.
“What do you want, Branson?” I ask when the call connects, talking through a grin.
“Miss Voss, you’re going to have to put the phone down. We’re preparing to take off,” the pilot on the intercom calls.
“Yes, one second,” I shout, covering the end of my phone.
“Where are you?” Evan asks when I press the phone to my ear again.
“On the plane to Denver. My mom told me to go to the hospital. Why?”
“Have you taken off?” he asks.
“Just about to,” I reply, looking at the runway as the plane starts to move slightly. I’ve always enjoyed flying, but I like watching the take off the most and Evan is ruining my ritual.
“Miss Voss,” the guy over the intercom calls, warning me again.
“Your mom did?” Evan asks, stuttering slightly. I wish he could see me rolling my eyes right now.
“Yes, Branson, my mother who gave birth to me. Now, I’ve got to go. I’m turning my phone off so I can try and catch up on some sleep,” I explain. It’s been a tiring day with exam stress, as well as the project almost being completed, and this random phone call is not helping.
I cut him off. “You’re awfully clingy for someone I’ve just forgiven. Remember your place, Ev,” I say as I end the call. Can I not get one moment of peace? I shut off my phone, sinking further into the leather seat and close my eyes.
The hospital is more eerie than I remember. It’s usually pretty quiet in my dad’s ward because most people are in the same situation as him. I walk down the abhorrent, nauseating, yet once again irresistible hospital hallways that are as narrow as closest as the bacteria flies in the air. My dad’s room is the last in this corridor and I try to pick up my pace to get out of the unsettling chill, safe within the comfort of his presence.
I reach his door and the curtains are drawn shut, no doubt trying to shield him from the fluorescent lights. My mom read somewhere that the lighting can affect even comatose people, so she often tries to be extra careful even though I’m not sure if it’s really that big of a deal.
“Look, Mom, if this is just another one of your games…” I say, laughing as I open the door.
The voice doesn’t belong to my mother.
Sweat instantly begins to gather on my neck and chest as I look at the sight before me. Lucas is standing beside my dad’s bed as he sleeps peacefully. He’s not an intimidating guy. Well, he shouldn’t be since he’s supposed to be dead and all. I’ve never had a reason not to like him, but after that weird phone call the other day, he’s been freaking me out more than usual.
“What are you doing here? Where’s my mom?” I quiz, shutting the door behind me.
“Why don’t you take a seat?” he says, chillingly calm.
“I’m good,” I say, holding my chin high. I refuse to be afraid of him. He looks sick. Like he hasn’t eaten in weeks. “Where’s my mom?” I ask again.
He swallows. “She’s fine. She’s safe.”
I step closer in the room, trying to keep calm and levelled while my heartbeat starts to pick up. I can hear it everywhere, beating rapidly in my ears. “Why wouldn’t she be safe?”
“Your boyfriend just couldn’t stop digging.” His voice is rough like sandpaper, the sound scratching against my scalp. He’s not looking at me. He’s staring right at my dad.
“What are you talking about?” I whisper softly.
“She wasn’t supposed to be on the plane,” he says, rubbing his hands on his temples as if he’s trying to erase a memory. He turns to me now and I blink rapidly, my throat suddenly dry. I don’t reply. I don’t know if I’m supposed to. “It was supposed to be Gio, but he messed up the plan. He was the one that was supposed to die that night. Not Sara. She was innocent.”
“What- What are you talking about?” I ask, my voice shaking. His eyes are disturbingly blue as he stares right at me, scratching his chin. I stumble a little, holding tightly onto the medicine cart near the door when I notice the thick black object in his hand, tapping against his thigh.
He has a gun.
“You know that I was Mateo’s friend first, right? He and Gio could be tied together by blood, but they didn’t even like each other until I pushed them together. It was me. I did that. It was mine and Mateo’s idea to take over the business, to change it, make it our own. But Giovanni just had to get in the way, didn’t he?” Lucas groans, shaking his head again. I gulp, trying to find some words, but they don’t come to me. He continues talking. “The plan was so perfect. Gio was going to take that flight, Marcus would fly it, crash it and he’d be gone. But he had to send Sara alone. That wasn’t going to stop me. I managed to think of a second plan. Mateo was too smart. He’d figure it out too easily, so I had to eliminate him first. I’d secretly insert myself into the business, plant Tinzin within the imports, tie people to it without knowing and I’d pin it all on him. It was going to work. I could see it happening, tesoro.”
His eyes gleam with pure mischief. He just confessed a crime to me. Multiple. Why is he telling me this? I hold onto the cart tighter, needing stability. The disgusting look on his face makes my stomach turn. I force myself to swallow the bile in my throat, feeling the liquid go straight down to my stomach.
“Then you had to get involved and it became too easy. He was working on finding out what happened, and you were asking too many questions. He was too sensitive. Too protective, so he didn’t tell the whole truth. His trip to the restaurant colliding with your stakeout was pure coincidence, I’ll give him that. He was making it almost too easy. Gerard and I went way back, and he was the one to reach out to Gio. He talked him into taking up butchery and it was only a matter of time until your young, naive brain would see him slicing some meat and it would turn your thoughts rabid. We thought you would figure it was him, report him and he’d go down. Then some idiot had to hit him with his car, making his death and the story too easy to clean up, not the way I wanted.”
“Why are you telling me this?” I ask, my voice wavering, sounding completely foreign to me. I have to be stronger. Braver. He stalks closer to me, only a few feet away now as I back further up, aimlessly reaching for something to defend myself.
“Because your boyfriend was getting too close. He was starting to figure me out and the only way I can blackmail him into staying quiet is if you’re gone and he thinks he’s next.”
I swallow, my chin wobbling. Evan wouldn’t lie to me again. He wouldn’t. “You’re lying. He said he dropped it,” I argue.
“Sure, he might have dropped it, but it doesn’t mean his family has. They’re a smart bunch, the Branson’s. Too smart for their own good. But I’m smarter. I know the second his dad thinks I’m the villain, he’ll tell his love-sick son and he’ll come rushing here. I’m giving him five minutes before he bursts down the door.”
He glances towards the door, but the curtains are still drawn shut, blocking out any passers-by. Do they not have any cameras in here?
“What are you going to do to me?”
He chuckles lightly, sounding like pure and utter evil. “Oh, nothing yet. I want him to watch me kill you. It’s the only way he’ll take it seriously.”
I don’t let myself flinch at the threat. Be strong, Scarlett. You have to. You need to. “What are you getting out of this? You wanted Gio gone and now he is. What is killing me going to do?”
“Ah, I forgot to mention that your dad is going to be gone too. Meaning, I’ll probably have a few more weeks to resurface, play the whole ‘I survived a plane crash’ charade and the world will be at my fingertips. No one will be running Voss anymore with Mateo gone and you and your meddling boyfriend’s family out of the way. They’ll be feeling sorry for me, practically begging me to take over.”
He’s a narcissist. I can deal with that. I can manipulate that. I must be able to or else I won’t make it out of here alive. I need to make it out of here alive. There are so many things waiting for me on the other side of this door. So many wonderful things that I’ve just grasped, and I can’t afford to let them slip through my fingers. Not again.
“How are you so sure they’ll want you to take over?” I ask, playing into the idea.
“Why wouldn’t they?” he says triumphantly.
Once I get him talking, I start to tune him out. I need a plan. I need an escape from him. If he’s not bluffing, he really could kill me. If Evan is really on his way, I would never forgive myself for having him traumatised again for watching someone die. I couldn’t do that to him.
I’ve seen my dad’s hand twitch before. He’s done it countless times, but the nurses always say it’s reflexes. But this time, his whole hand lifts from the bed and happy, angry, and confused tears start to spring to my eyes. Lucas probably thinks I’m backing down, that I’m terrified but the thought of my dad waking up has given me the push I need.
I try to keep my eyes on Lucas even though just looking at him disgusts me and starts to make me a little dizzy. As he rambles on, I subtly flick my gaze to my dad as his eyes are now open. He’s awake. He’s back. He’s here.
I’m suddenly grateful that I was an annoying child who begged my brothers to teach me everything. I begged them to teach me how to play soccer, how to change a tire, and how to complete basic first aid. I asked them for anything to give me a head start in the real world. Including sign language.
I ask more fabricated questions to Lucas about his ridiculous plan to kill me, frighten Evan into keeping quiet and taking over the company. He’s so invested in what he’s saying he doesn’t even notice the beeping increasing on my dad’s machine as his heartbeat picks up. My dad lifts his hands up, signing three simple words: keep him talking.
So, I do. But as he continues talking, I slowly try to move towards the door, angling Lucas away from my dad’s bed so he can’t see him. He tracks my movements, watching me try and get away from him.
“Where are you going?” he asks, squinting at me as he taps the gun against his thigh. I flick my eyes towards it and then back up at him before saying probably the most stupid thing I’ve ever said in my life.
“You heard me. If you’re going to do it, you might as well do it now,” I say. Jesus. I don’t even know what I’m saying. If this guy is as stupid as he sounds, he won’t aim for any vital organs and I’m in a hospital for god’s sake.
“I’m doing this on my terms. I want your boyfriend to see,” he growls.
“For the thousandth time, he’s not my boyfriend,” I groan. I’ve been pivoting so long; he hasn’t caught up on the fact that I’m now next to the table at the end of my dad’s bed. I might be about to get shot right now, but I don’t want to die with people knowing me as Evan Branson’s girlfriend.
Lucas tilts his head curiously. “No? Then what is he?” Now he wants to chit chat. Perfect.
“Behind you,” I say quickly, and he takes the bait, giving me enough time to whack the gun out of his hand and it slides under the bed. When he turns back to me, realising he fell for my stupid trick, he doesn’t notice the lamp I picked up before I hit it as hard as I can against his head and watch his body fall to the ground.
