34. Talon
thirty-four
Talon
C ollateral damage . What the fuck was wrong with me? I saw the pain on Misely’s face when the words left my lips, but I couldn’t think of anything else to say. And it’s not like she would know that there was some truth to it. That I was sent here to do one thing and one thing only, and now here I was with feelings for the girl I blackmailed to get that job done. Real fucking feelings I’ve never had before. Feelings I didn’t know what to do with even if I could. But it didn’t matter, because I couldn’t, so I was fucked regardless. She wasn’t the damage, I was.
Then there was my little brother, the thorn in my side. He looked good. Really good and I hated myself for noticing because that meant that he hadn’t looked as good back home when he was with his family. Now he had a real home and someone to protect other than himself, and fuck if they didn’t make a pretty picture. It had been easy to disguise the near constant worry I'd had over him since he'd left with manufactured bitterness that he'd gone in the first place. But seeing him now—alive, safe, okay …the relief was like a gut-punch, nearly sending me to my knees, even as he glared like he couldn't stand the sight of me.
Misely charged forward in front of me, grabbing my attention again as she tried to put as much distance between us as possible. A tug in my chest urged me to eat up that distance, to grab her hand, pull her to me and kiss her. To tell her that I was sorry. To tell her I’d make it right.
I ignored the tug and let her follow her friend into the house without so much as a threat to keep her mouth shut about the things I’d shared with her. In the state she was in, she might just blurt it all out just to spite me. Or to save her friendship with Birdie.
Following her inside, I passed my brother who still glared at me as if he were wishing his eyes were made of lasers. Shaking off the sting I felt at his clear distaste for my arrival, I stepped into his house. It was humble, just a little cabin tucked away in the woods. The world outside followed me in; plants potted on every flat surface, the smell of herbs reached my nose from where they were strung up on the cabin’s rafters, and all of the furniture was made of rich, earthy tones.
When Milo came inside and rejoined his girl on their deep yellow sofa, that pretty picture was complete. I’d spent so many years seeing my brother in one light. The light of a punk kid who needed me to show him the right way. I guess I’d been too stubborn to realize he was an adult, and yeah, of course he’d wanted to get out. The home he’d made here embodied warmth and comfort. Our lives back in Wisco were dismal and cold in comparison.
“Nice place you got here.” Even to my own ears I sounded pathetic, the words coming out hoarse.
“Sit,” Milo barked, not taking his eyes off me. The woman beside him gestured to two mismatched velvet chairs parallel to the sofa and Misely immediately took a seat. All that fierce confidence had withered away, reminding me of the girl she’d been a few days ago when she saw her ex had gotten engaged. I fucking hated it. I itched to grab her and tell her that if her friend blamed her for me being here, she could go fuck herself. That if she could throw her away because of this, then she wasn’t worth her time.
Did I, though? Of course not. Instead, I made myself comfortable in the other chair, facing Milo head on.
“Kyle wants you—”
“Kyle can go to hell. I’m not going back.”
My teeth ground together painfully. “You need to hear me out.”
What was I going to actually say? I had no idea. But he was cutting me off before I even had a chance to get the words out. Petulant little shit. Leave it to Milo to irritate me in under two minutes.
“No, I don’t. I’m not going back, and Kyle can eat a bag of dicks if he thinks I’m not going to testify. You can, too, for that matter if you think you’re going to be hauling my ass back.”
“Milo…” Misely started, her voice hesitant.
I stopped her with a cutting look, turning back to my brother. “Worry about yourself, Blondie. I can handle him.”
Her jaw snapped shut audibly and when I chanced a look toward her again, I ignored the pinch in my chest at the hurt I saw there.
“It’s not all about you, Milo. There are other people at stake.”
“Yeah?” he asked, arching an auburn brow. “Like who? Our family? What-the- fuck -ever. Do you think this is the family that Mom and Dad wanted for us?”
The anger that lived like an endless well inside of me was so rapidly flooding that I had to blink a few times in surprise. I gripped the chair’s armrests tightly in my hands to keep from standing up and getting in his face.
“What do you know about what Mom and Dad would’ve wanted? You were nine. You don’t remember anything real about them,” I growled, barely holding onto my restraint. “You’ve used them as a crutch to continue acting like a naive little shit for long enough.”
“Hey!” his girlfriend chirped beside him, but Milo’s hand went out to rest on her thigh. He gave her a reassuring look, shaking his head a fraction. She settled back into her seat, fire still lit in her eyes.
“I know that this is not what they wanted for us,” he said it with such a certainty it made the rage inside climb higher.
“Mom and Dad wanted us to be together. They wanted us to look out for each other.”
His nostrils flared, brows turning in. “And is this what you think we’ve been doing? Looking out for each other?”
I didn’t answer him, shame creeping in beneath the fury.
“Well, newsflash big brother. You’re wrong. We haven’t been looking out for each other. We’ve been looking out for him . For his interests. All at the cost of our own lives and I am done.” Leaning forward, Milo rested his elbows on his knees and ran a hand through his shortened hair. “There is nothing you can say or do that will convince me to give up the life I’ve created here with Birdie. I deserve to have a good life, Talon.”
I felt Misely’s eyes on me, boring through my skin. None of them understood, they couldn't. The couldn't understand the gravity of what—no, who —was at stake. I took in my surroundings again, breathing deeply through my nose. A quaint space, a fireplace with staged wedding photos on the mantle, his and her slippers warming on the hearth. A real fucking home.
“Talon, please .” Misely’s pleading pulled my attention back to her. Her eyes were shimmering with unshed tears, her features taught.
I reached out and flicked a loose drop from her cheek the moment it broke free, hating to see such a strong, fierce woman cry. Brushing my knuckles along her cheek I sighed, turning to the two who sat opposite from us, watching us with unrestrained interest.
“Kyle is threatening my son.”