Chapter 27
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Devon
Guests shuffle into place, and I hang toward the edge of the crowd awkwardly.
Christian's mom taps a mic from the DJ tent, feedback screeching briefly before she calls out something in Spanish. Everyone claps, and the music changes from pop to something more low-key. The lights strung across the yard dim slightly.
Marisol emerges into the center of the yard with Christian on her arm, his shoulders squared and chin up.
I was lying when I said he looked good in that suit—he looks downright delicious.
It fits him well. The sleeves hug his biceps and chest, where a pink tie rests beneath his jacket.
If his family hadn't surrounded us, I would have dropped to my knees the moment I saw him.
He guides his sister into position with one hand at her back, and then they both start to sway to the music with silly grins on their faces.
“He did this last year for Sofia, too,” Taylor murmurs beside me, having returned from grabbing food.
“Did what?”
“Father-daughter dance. He toured colleges with his little brother, too, when Logan was in the hospital and Salem was missing. Family means everything to him.”
A catch in his voice has me tearing my gaze away from Christian. “I can see that.”
“He’d do anything to protect them,” Taylor adds quietly, eyes never leaving the dance floor. “Doesn’t matter the cost. Even if it gets him into trouble.”
Something sharp twists inside my chest. I scoff under my breath. “Where is this going? You think I'm some kind of threat or something? I'd never hurt his family. Ever.”
“That’s not what I meant.” Tay finally looks at me, expression guarded. “I’m not worried about you hurting them.”
“What the fuck are you trying to say?”
A beat of silence stretches on as we watch Christian dip his little sister just enough to make her giggle.
“He doesn't know how to draw a line,” Taylor says at last. “Once he decides you’re family, there isn’t a boundary he won't cross. He’ll bleed out for you. Get it?”
“I'm failing to see what this has to do with me.”
“I think,” he says slowly, glancing back to his best friend, “some people take advantage of that kind of loyalty.”
Ah. I swallow hard, his words finally clicking. “And you think I’m some people.”
It’s not a question. It’s a fucking fact.
Taylor doesn’t answer right away, not until the music and cheering begin to wind down. Then, softly, he asks, “Are you not?”
Anger ignites in my veins reflexively. I open my mouth to defend myself, to say that I’m trying, that I didn’t ask for this shit—
But then I think about Christian paying five grand without blinking. I think about all the things I've done over the past few years to so many people—Logan, Xed, Salem. How I caught them each at their lowest and manipulated the situation to include myself just because I… I wanted to be included.
And I don’t have an answer that doesn’t taste like bullshit, because even though I told myself I was giving them all what they wanted, the truth is that I was only enabling their self-destruction.
Maybe that's my level of self-destruction as well: hurting those who ask for it and then licking my wounds when they hurt me back. A vicious, twisted cycle of give and take where everyone drains themselves dry. Everyone bleeds out.
And then there's nothing left to save.
My eyes find Christian again as the dance comes to an end. He whispers something to Marisol that makes her laugh through her tears, and when he smiles proudly, it pierces me right through the ribs.
“I don’t want to be that person,” I finally rasp, throat clogged with too much emotion.
Taylor's quiet for a long time while we watch everyone shift onto the dance floor. Carlos has someone on his arm, as well as Sofia. Even Christian's mother joins in.
When a loud techno song starts up, Tay nudges me on the shoulder and gestures toward the house. “Wanna go inside for a bit? Get away from all the noise?”
Unable to speak yet, I let him lead the way, still feeling… uncertain. I would say not like myself, but I'd have to know what it felt like to be myself in the first place. Truth is, I've been struggling to figure that out for nearly ten years. Probably longer.
Maybe since fifteen, when I was alone and scared while the stars watched my innocence be ripped away from me.
The music and chatter fade once we step inside Christian’s childhood home. Huckslee slides the glass door shut behind us as I take in the small but cozy space. It's clean and tidy, the living room right on the edge of an L-shaped kitchen.
Knit blankets cover the sofa, family pictures line the walls. There’s no dining table, probably for lack of room, but from the patio furniture outside, I assume many meals were spent in the backyard.
“Christian’s mom used to sleep here,” Taylor says, flopping onto the couch.
“There's a pullout bed beneath the cushions.
The girls shared one room, and the boys shared the other.
I used to crawl in through the window at night and either sleep on the floor or next to Christian.
His mom wouldn't even question it when I came out for breakfast in the morning.”
I can imagine it: Christian’s poor mother with five kids to feed. One of them wasn’t even hers, but she treated him like a son anyway. “Sounds nice.”
Huck snorts. “Sounds chaotic, honestly. Especially knowing what Tay and Christian are like.”
“We were absolute terrors,” he chuckles, getting to his feet. “Our stunt name didn't come from nothing.”
Shrugging, I lean against the counter and study the worn linoleum. “Meals in my family consisted of me, my grandparents and utter silence. Unless they had some shit to say. If they did, it was only prayer or politics.”
Taylor frowns. “Well, that must have sucked.”
“It was all I knew.”
Honestly, I grew to prefer the silence. It meant that I wouldn't have to listen to them bitch about all the things I was doing wrong.
“Hey.” Huck moves closer with his dark eyes on my face. “Look, Logan's told me a lot about what his… what your parents did. If you ever need someone to talk to—”
“No thanks,” I cut him off, hackles raising out of habit. “I'm over it.”
Something about the side-eye he shares with his boyfriend tells me they don't believe a word I say, but neither of them brings it up again. Thankfully. Instead, Taylor begins opening wooden cabinets like he lives here.
“I'm starving,” he mutters, causing Huckslee to bark out a laugh.
“You just ate like four enchiladas.”
“And I'd eat four more, but those were the last of them.”
“Guess I'm bottoming tonight,” Huck sighs heavily.
It's my turn to laugh loudly, surprising myself. “Damn. What's a guy gotta do to get in between that sandwich?”
“Let me knock you out and you can have it in your dreams,” Tay scoffs, pulling out a loaf of bread. “My sharing days are over. Huck's mine.”
“And you're mine,” his boyfriend adds. “I don't want anyone else.”
A pinch of jealousy blooms in my chest. I'd been mostly joking—I don't want anyone but one guy either. And that one guy does, in fact, enjoy sharing. I just can't get on board with it anymore. Not like before, with Arya.
Exhibitionism? Jerking off together in front of his roommates? Sure, that stuff's hot. I'll suck him off in the middle of the grocery store if that's what he wants, but having other people touch him? Can't do it.
Speaking of him.
Christian pulls open the sliding glass door to join us in the kitchen. “So you all fucking ditched me?”
Taylor glances up from where he's rummaging through the fridge. “Did you bring me any of those little bags of chips?”
“Why the fuck would I bring you chips, carino? I thought you left.”
“Because I'm hungry. You know I'm always hungry.”
“Am I supposed to keep snacks on hand at all times for you or some shit?”
“A real best friend would. You don't even love me.”
Christian snorts as he pulls a small bottle of liquor from his jacket pocket. “Tell your stepbro to find you a snack.”
“You're an asshole, man,” Huckslee mutters.
With my arms crossed, I watch them bicker, feeling like an outsider.
Just as I make the conscious decision to slip away unnoticed, Carlos steps inside the house.
I stop in my tracks at the stricken look on his face and follow his gaze over to Christian.
Or, rather, at the vodka bottle in his brother's hand.
Christian notices a beat later, too, because his grin fades when he catches Carlos standing frozen in the entryway.
“Hey,” he says carefully, trying to hide the bottle behind his back.
“Why the hell do you have that?”
The teasing energy in the room evaporates instantly. Taylor stills mid-sandwich as Huck stiffens.
Christian glances down at the bottle, twisting the cap absently. “Had a long day, I guess.”
Carlos exhales sharply through his nose. “You promised.”
“I never said I'd stop drinking.”
“It's not the drinking,” Carlos snaps, then immediately lowers his voice. “It's what you're drinking. And around them? Seriously?”
Christian glances toward the backyard, where his mom and little sisters still dance. A hard swallow flexes his throat. “I’m not drinking it in front of them. They're not around.”
“He used to say that, too!”
A thick silence settles over the room.
Christian looks almost sick, but he tucks the bottle away before gently grabbing his brother's arm. “Not here. Let's go talk.”
The two disappear into a room down the hall, leaving Taylor, Huck, and me to stare at each other with wide eyes.
“What was that about?” Huckslee whispers, gazing after them.
Taylor shakes his head slowly. “I… I don't know.”
And I can tell by the way his breath hitches that it really bothers him. With how close he and Christian are, I always figured there were no secrets between them. Clearly, I was wrong.
“Maybe, we should go,” I say, but my feet don't get the memo. They carry me closer to the room Christian and Carlos disappeared into.
Tay follows close behind. “Yeah. Like, we should probably give them privacy.”
“Family shit, right?” I stop right outside the door and press my ear to the wood just as he does the same.
“Yeah, family shit. Which includes the two of us. Maybe we should listen just in case.”
“Seriously, you two?” Huckslee scowls at us, but we pay him no mind.
It's on the tip of my tongue to tell Taylor that I'm not Christian’s family, but the sound of his voice in distress has the words dying in my throat.
“I promised I'd never turn into him, and I haven't. I'm not Dad, Carlos.”
“No, you're not, and that's why it hurts to see you holding that bottle.”
Taylor and I hold our breaths like they might hear us on the other side.
“You told me you'd never drink vodka, that the smell makes you sick. Makes you think of him.”
“It does,” Christian replies, but he sounds smaller than I've ever heard him.
“Then why the hell are you drinking it?”
A long pause follows the question. “I don't know, okay? Things got really fucked over the past year, and everyone left me. I just… needed something.”
“So vodka was the answer?”
“Nothing else felt like enough.”
“Enough to what?”
“...enough to hurt.”
Everyone left me.
Taylor's brow slams down when Carlos lets out a frustrated breath. Behind us, Huck clears his throat pointedly. “Okay. That’s… probably our cue to leave.”
I nod, even though I'd rather stay to hear the rest.
As we back away from the door, one last thing slips through the crack before Carlos lowers his voice completely.
“You can ask me for help, you know. I'm not a kid you gotta protect anymore. Maybe I can protect you for once.”
Everyone left me.
Christian's reply is drowned out by the music when we head back outside. His family is still dancing, enjoying themselves beneath the glittering lights and stars. Laughter and chatter surround us, but it feels almost criminal.
How can they all be so joyous when one of their own is inside falling apart?
Everyone left me.
The answer hits me like a kick in the teeth as I follow Taylor and Huck across the yard, over to the field where the kids are still playing.
None of them even know about it.
Because the one falling apart has spent his whole life trying to hold everyone together.