Chapter Eleven #3
I couldn’t believe all of it had poured out of me, everything I had felt, that I had kept in the abyss inside of me, now free.
Ramos looked as if I was talking about someone else, like he was struggling to remember the past. “I don’t remember doing that to you.”
My mom hadn’t moved from the doorway. Her arms were folded tight around herself, shoulders shaking as she sobbed.
“I went to the prison.” I stared at the floor.
“Got all the way to the visitors’ entrance. Stood there for a while.”
I shook my head. “Couldn’t make myself go in.”
The tears kept coming no matter what I did with my hands.
“So I found work instead. Made sure there was always something in your account.”
Ramos went very still. “That was you?”
Riot pressed tissues into my hand. I blew my nose and nodded.
“Just tell me.” Ramos’ voice cracked open. “What do I have to do to get my family back?”
Mom took a step toward him then hesitated. “I never stopped loving you.” Her eyes dropped. “You look so much like him. Every time I see your face—”
“I’m not him,” he said. “I’m Ramos, Mama. Your son.”
“Six years,” she said quietly, “and I still reach for him in the night. Forty-five years together. We met when I was six years old. I walked right up to him and told him he was going to be my husband but that he needed a job first because I wanted a lot of baby dolls.”
I laughed a little through my tears.
“What did he say?” Ramos asked. Like it mattered more than anything.
“He went and asked your grandfather how to buy a job.” She shook her head. “Said I needed lots of babies.”
“What did grandpa do?” I asked.
“Choked on his beer. Grandma was still pounding his back when your father walked over to me and said his dad was hopeless.”
Something shifted in Ramos’ face. He pulled her in, arms wrapped tight, face pressed into her hair. I didn’t let myself think about it, just crossed the room. He reached for me before I even got there.
I don’t know how long we stood like that. Eventually Mom eased back. “I need to sleep.”
“I’ve been looking for work.” Ramos ran his hand down her arm. “Soon as I land something, you can drop one of your jobs. You’ve been running yourself into the ground for too long.”
She patted his hand. “Welcome home, baby.”
As soon as she was out of earshot, Ramos turned to me. “Who attacked you?”
I hesitated. Wasn’t sure why. “Miguel,” I finally said. “Told me he’s been watching me for years because of a promise he made to you. Has been creeping on me. No offense, but your friends are deeply weird.”
Ramos cursed under his breath and dragged both hands down his face. “I didn’t know, Calvin. I swear it.” A long silence then something in him seemed to settle. “I never asked him to look out for you. He was protecting himself.”
I didn’t know what that meant. I had a feeling I didn’t want to.
“Explain,” Riot said.
I noticed his hand on my lower back. Had it been there the whole time?
Ramos kept his eyes on me. “That day. The shooting. I was standing in the chip aisle trying to remember which ones you liked, and then everything just—” He stopped.
Started again. “Miguel put the gun in my hands. Said he couldn’t take another charge. By the time the cops came through the door I couldn’t think straight. I dropped it, and they were already on top of me.”
His jaw worked. “I confessed to something I didn’t do.”
Mayhem cursed. Reaper’s jaw tightened. But it was the look on Riot’s face that made me want to take a step back.
“He hasn’t been hanging around me out of friendship. He’s been making sure I keep my mouth shut.” Ramos ran his hand over his hair. “I’m gonna kill the son of a bitch. He fucking attacked you.”
“Not by your hands,” Mayhem said.
My brother’s eyes cut to him then to Reaper, like he was only now clocking they were in the room. “Who the fuck are you?”
“Someone who’s not gonna let you go down again,” Riot replied. “You’re Calvin’s brother. That makes you family.”
“No offense, but I don’t even know who you are.” Ramos’ voice had gone flat. “Saw you once with my brother. That doesn’t make us shit. Don’t get things twisted because you saw me cry. Miguel is my problem to deal with.”
Mayhem stepped into his space. “You need to work off that anger? We can take it to the backyard. Box, brawl, your choice.”
“Step the fuck back,” Ramos warned. He glanced at me. “Since when do you run with people like this?”
“He’s usually housebroken,” I said. “But he’s not wrong. You go after Miguel they won’t cut you loose on overcrowding again. I just got you back. I’m not doing this twice.”
“We’ll handle Miguel.” Mayhem hadn’t moved back an inch. “Garage. Tomorrow morning. You start work.”
I internally rolled my eyes. Mayhem needed to learn tact.
“Is that a job offer?”
“You know cars?”
“No,” Ramos said.
“Doesn’t matter. You’ll learn.” Mayhem finally took a step back. “That’s how it works with family. Don’t be late.”
Ramos was quiet for a second. “I don’t know whether to thank you or break your nose.”
Mayhem just smirked.
“I’ll lock up anything that can be used as a weapon,” Riot murmured into my ear.
“Then you might as well keep the shop closed," I whispered back.