42. Bay
FORTY-TWO
bay
When Cairo asked me to stay, I couldn’t bring myself to tell him no. Not when I just witnessed the full effect of the Vivian and Ozzy show.
What I imagined in my head didn’t fit that .
I thought they were together, maybe Cairo and Oz shared her at one point—because that seems to be a thing around here—but my husband had a silent freakout the moment her voice registered in the room.
That’s not fucking normal.
I could feel the fear billowing off him in a heavy, thick cloud of panic, and there was literally no way I was grabbing my sisters’ things and taking off. I had to make sure he was okay.
Or himself, at the very least.
Following Cairo’s direction to which room was his, I knock twice before opening the door, half-expecting something to fly at me the moment I do.
A blue lava lamp is on, illuminating only a small portion of the room, where clothes are thrown every which way onto the floor from what I can see.
In the corner is a mattress on the floor with no box spring just like Reeve’s, draped in black sheets and a comforter. There’s a small dresser, but nothing else that makes it appear like he gives a shit about this room. Unpacked boxes are stacked on top of each other, and it feels…not homey.
At all.
It’s like he just arrived and never took the time to unpack or give a shit that he could be kicked out at any time.
Risking it, the lack of a hard object flying my way gets me to slide inside, and I find Ozzy near a window with the curtains drawn back. He doesn’t glance my way, sitting along the ledge and peering out into the night as if trying to find something.
Or calm down.
There are a lot of unfinished talks between him and me. Ones I don’t know how to start. I’ve tried to pull some information out of him between why he married me and if something is looming over his head, but I’ve fallen short.
Every single time.
“Hey,” I mutter. “Is it okay that I’m here?”
Silence answers me back, so I decide to gamble it again and slowly close the door behind me.
I quickly steal another look around, finding a ripped box of playing cards discarded on the floor. Comic books are scattered aimlessly, so I pluck them up and stack them neatly before working on the cards.
Then I center myself in the room, sit down, and cross my legs underneath each other as I begin to shuffle.
“Think Cairo will slice my throat on my way out for punching his ex?” I peer up at Ozzy who only glances at me before averting his gaze back out the window. “I think he might.”
A wave of silence crashes between us, but I’m used to it. Sometimes it’s peaceful, but other times, it drives me fucking nuts.
However, right now, it’s fine. I know I need to tread lightly here with him.
“The sound of Matteo’s voice creeps me out, too,” I get out, trying to work in a conversation or maybe just allow him to get to know me more. “After all these years, I still haven’t managed to get past everything he’s done to me.” I shake my head. “It’s pathetic, really.”
I feel his eyes on me, but I don’t look up from what I’m doing. The colors of the pictures blur in my vision as I press on.
“But I try not to be too hard on myself,” I continue. “If I let my guard down with him, look what he does. His life goal is to still use me to destroy South Shore and get what he’s always wanted because he couldn’t get it himself. The asshole doesn’t believe in having respect and earning it. He demands it. But I’d rather die than watch him take over my father’s town.”
“You’re leaving.”
His voice is gentle, but his words feel like a deep slash to my chest.
He’s right.
I’m abandoning home. I’m leaving South Shore to find solace and peace for my sisters. I’m running away from the problems instead of facing them.
“What would you do?” I ask, still staring at the cards. “If you had everything to lose.”
The room blares with more quiet, but it’s a stupid question if you really think about it.
He’d stay.
His family, his brothers, they’re here. They might be on the so-called right side of Emilio, but no one is truly safe from my biological father. He can flip the script whenever he wants.
“Will you play with me?” I smack the deck with my fingers, but keep my chin tucked in my chest. I feel as though when I don’t look at him, he seems to open a little more.
He hesitates before finally moving in my direction from my peripheral, slowly lowering himself across from me.
“I’m sure you don’t gamble,” I say. “But how about, if the other person wins, they get to ask the other a question.”
I feel the bulk of his gaze on me, but I don’t bother to acknowledge it. He needs to get used to me if we’re stuck together for the time being until…I decide what to do.
“Nothing serious,” I add in. “Like what’s your favorite color, and do you think tacos are a food group or just a food.” I flick my eyes to his because that’s important. “That’s a make-or-break for me if you answer wrong.”
His placid expression doesn’t falter—not that I’m surprised—as I deal two cards a piece to each of us, checking mine and holding a total of seventeen in my hand.
“I’m staying,” I convey, deciding on Black Jack to play. It’s the most mindless one I can think of that doesn’t require a lot of concentration. “Hit your cards if you want another.”
He doesn’t, which I’m hoping means he knows how to play.
Flipping mine over, I expose a ten of clubs and seven of hearts. “Seventeen.” He does the same and shows off eighteen. He knows how to play. “Damn.”
Scooping up his cards, I throw them in the deck and begin shuffling them again.
“Alright,” I straighten my spine and lift my chin, ready for whatever question he may have. “Give it to me.”
He studies my face for a second, tattoos along his neck relaxed as I patiently wait for him to ask me anything.
He’s a sad sort of beautiful. No facial hair, just jagged edges, and lines that make up his features. I’ve grown used to his black hair falling aimlessly in his face. Several times, I’ve wanted to see both of his stunning blue eyes stare back at me, but that’d be stupid.
“Are you happy?”
I didn’t expect such a loaded question.
And, to any other normal person, it wouldn’t be. It’d be mindless.
However, he’s asked me something similar before, always observing me and probably trying to figure it out.
And to answer that question would mean wanting things I can’t openly have or wishing for events that would be delivered to me like miracles.
“Sure.”
I don’t offer more, hoping it’ll get him to speak more if I keep my answers vague.
Tossing out our cards, I end up with nineteen and hold. Ozzy does the same, and when we flip them over, he shows up with an ace and ten.
“Are you serious?” I huff under my breath, gathering up the cards and shuffling them more thoroughly this time.
“Do you hate them?”
How quick we were to come out with that question.
It must be something currently on his mind, and it’s gray, not black and white to me. It’s also something that may be bothering him, too.
“Depends on your definition of hate,” I offer noncommittally. “I don’t want them to die.”
Wanting to end that round of question-asking, I do the same thing and win the next round—thank fuck.
“What’s your favorite color?”
“Blue.”
Easy enough.
After another round and I win for the second time, I decide for something a little more personal yet not too prying.
“Do you want to get closer to Ellie?”
The question has been on my mind for some time now. He doesn’t go near her. He definitely steers clear of Mae any chance he gets, but he does have family.
And she’s mine, too.
“No.”
My brows mindlessly knit. “Why?”
I should be glad, I guess. I don’t need him to want to if he turns out to be a diabolical asshole.
Nonetheless, Ozzy just blankly stares back at me, as if I’m supposed to understand his answer.
I don’t.
He wins the next round and then shoots out, “Do you want Matteo dead?”
Okay, these questions suck.
I shake my head, dropping the deck of cards in my hand to the floor. “I don’t want anyone dead, Ozzy.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want it on my conscience, nor my hands.”
“He tried to kill Roger.”
When Dad was freaking out at the old house and the front door was open.
I fix Ozzy with a serious expression because only Levi and I know about that event.
But there was someone else outside.
I saw them running after Matteo down the sidewalk and into the street. We just never figured out who it was, and I haven’t given it another thought… until now.
He was in the house with me the night my ex tried to kill Dad.
“Were you with him? Did you…” The rest of my question gets lodged in my throat. He attempted it once before. If he’s running with Matteo…he just asked me if I wanted to kill him. I just admitted that he still freaks me out. “Why…were you there that night? How were you there and I didn’t see you?”
He continues to gape at me like I’m supposed to read his mind. And, the longer he waits, the more hairs on my body begin to rise in warning.
I toss us two cards each because I obviously have to win a match to get more answers, but he wins this round to my utter annoyance.
“Do you love him?”
I really didn’t give him much credit on this whole asking questions bit.
“Who?”
“Wallace.”
Of course, I love him. I’ve loved Levi since I was a child.
However, I don’t give him the answer because he still hasn’t given me mine. He asked three questions and didn’t win three consecutive rounds.
Which has me wanting to speed up the question asking because the lack of why my husband was running around with my ex is going to give me my answer about leaving South Shore for good.
Everything falls to this.
If I have one more dude siding up against me, I’m done.
We will move to fucking Canada for all I care just to get the hell away from everyone.
I deal all the cards evenly to both of us and explain what we’re doing. “Throw a card down. Whoever’s card is higher gets to ask the next question.”
I toss the first one on the top of my deck.
Three.
He tosses a two.
Fuck yes.
“Why were you runnin’ with Matteo?”
“I wasn’t.”
Okay, he’s smart.
Ozzy’s not the silent, meek one who doesn’t comprehend shit. He knows exactly what he’s doing, and he chooses what he says and doesn’t.
Yet, I’m slightly relieved he’s not with Matteo.
I throw a six, and Ozzy trumps me with a king.
“Wallace.”
Do you love Wallace?
I sigh and nod my head, but Ozzy continues to fixate on me like he has to hear the words. “Yes.”
I hurl another card while holding my gaze on him, and Ozzy glances down.
“Why haven’t you told him?”
Won again.
This was a bad fucking idea.
“He knows,” I deadpan, flinging another card, and Ozzy looks then peers back up at me.
I won.
“Why were you at my house?”
At Dad’s house. Did he know Matteo was going to be there or was he snooping around? It makes no sense.
“Protecting you.”
Two words and they flatten my resolve. I don’t understand him. I didn’t know him prior to Emilio’s introduction, yet he was still around.
He was present.
He was in my house again.
Weakly, I cast another card, stealing a glance at this round, and I come out victorious for the second time. “How long have you been watching me?”
“Two years.”
My body arrests from movement, only breathing and blinking at his openly given response.
Two fucking years.
There’s never been a time when I felt I was being watched. I never got the eerie feeling or sixth sense of danger lurking in the darkness somewhere.
But he’s not a danger.
Not to you.
Regardless, this shit is textbook stalker. It screams unstable.
A black sweatshirt is thrusted in my direction, and I force myself to meet Ozzy’s face.
“What?”
He points at me, and I notice I’m shivering, and he sees nothing wrong with what he just told me.
Or he doesn’t care.
Or maybe I’m just cold.
And while the gesture is sweet, I don’t think my being here is a good idea anymore. My head is spinning, I don’t know if him being around is safe and Levi is throwing his trust into a family member he hasn’t been around like that.
I don’t fucking know him.
His brothers are capable of shit. His other cousin threw me in the damn Atlantic Ocean. His buddy emotionally ripped me apart while he had other people suck his dick and then fucked me to use my body before throwing me away. How much more do I really need before I call all this off?
This isn’t normal.
I must’ve outgrown South Shore between now and up to a few months ago because the need to run away and never look back is back to being very appealing right now.
I’m still not sure why Ozzy agreed to marry me, other than the fact he probably knows all about me, but was he put there?
“Did Emilio tell you to do that?” I press, holding his dark blues and immediately afraid of the answer. My real father seems to always be two steps ahead of me. And I know I’ve bitten off more than I can chew.
Ozzy shakes his head without needing me to throw another card down, but it does nothing to ease the havoc wreaking through my head.
To protect you.
That’s why he said he married me. Regardless, I don’t buy it.
I can’t.
No one just does that shit. Obviously, I’ve grown not to trust anyone who’s not within my immediate circle. I mean, look what just happened to me. I may have broken up with two dudes, but normally, you move on not murder them.
Well, you murdered his brother.
It always comes back to that. Always Torin.
Always Pretty Boy.
I haven’t allowed myself to think of him. I keep my mind busy. I pop melatonin at night just to make myself tired enough to where I have no choice but to shut down.
I can’t even get started on Reeve, either.
If I do, I’m never getting out of this completely unscathed. I won’t accept the fact I’m emotionally in turmoil. If I do, I’ll never let them go. I have to treat them like I did Matteo when I left him.
They don’t exist.
Not anymore.
Not in my world, my head, my heart, my soul, or my fucking sanity.
It’s all a lost cause.
“Bay.” Ozzy sounds like an innocent boy when my name rolls off his lips, bringing out whatever sort of motherly-big sister shit out of me. I force myself to lift my head, coming face-to-face with a man I don’t know—him or his intentions. “Are you scared?”
“ No .”
It’s defensive because it has to be.
I’ll never openly give myself away again.
I’m looking to clear my name.
I’m trying to get Torin off my ass and find someone else to terrorize. Reeve will have to find his own way out of this, and I’m afraid it’ll kill him with the amount of substances he seems to be under every time I see him.
“I won’t…hurt you.”
He’s trying…but I can’t make his words stick.
He’s not going to fool me and make me believe I don’t need to be on my guard with him.
And that’s the problem.
My mind mostly buys the fact that wherever he is, I’m not going to be harmed, and I don’t get it.
I’m over here about to shove this dude out of my life, but even right now, if there were a gun between us, it wouldn’t be him grabbing it.
What the fuck is going on with me?
I think I need to get my head examined or schedule an appointment with a therapist. There’s something not stable with my headspace, and it needs to be.
Mae, Ellie, Levi—I don’t have to say anything more than that. Nothing else matters.
Ozzy’s hand shows up within my line of sight again, and in it, is a long blade with almost an extra amount of jagged edges along one side.
The handle is closest, offered as a peace offering to show me he’s giving me the only weapon he has to exhibit how allegedly safe I am.
I take it so he can take back his hand, but I’m not fully convinced while my little heart sings how sweet that was.
You’re losing your edge, Astor.
He will come back for that knife.
Just to show you that he can—then use it against you.