37. Wilder
Wilder
I lied. Not the first time. Nor the last. But today, it slipped out so easily, and I couldn’t take it back. In fact, I really didn’t want to.
You see, it all started when I numbly walked into our study session, and I saw Oliver sitting across the table from my brother, looking up at me with concern in his eyes and his button nose wrinkled at the sight of me.
Those big green eyes speared right through my damn center, like he knew exactly what I went through thirty minutes before and felt for me.
Felt. For. Me. That doesn’t happen very often.
In fact, I can’t remember the last time someone asked Wilder, how are you doing?
I don’t blame Malic. Fuck, he doesn’t even feel.
Maybe a slight obsession here and there.
Oh, and the need to stab and maim, but other than that, Malic is only worried about himself.
Not me. Not even Boss gets his full attention.
So when it was time to leave, the lie slipped out so easily. I couldn’t take it back. Didn’t want to.
“We’re having that sparring open gym tonight…”
And that was the lie.
Our sparring sessions are always scheduled for Thursday nights.
It’s open to the public. Some weeks we don’t have any visitors.
It’s Mal and me fighting in the ring and gearing up for whatever fight is coming at the Coliseum.
Other Thursdays, we’re packed with members from the gym and other people checking us out.
Today, though, I-I couldn’t go home and stare at the walls for hours. Or go to class and listen to my professors babble about useless bullshit. Or anywhere else. Not without feeling this crushing guilt and grief weighing me down. Meredith.
How could this have happened? She was so well protected between Malic and me. We were her bodyguards, making sure she made it safely to work and back home again. And if we couldn’t be there? We had people watching her from a safe distance.
Fuck.
Maybe instead of opening my mouth to Oli, I should have grabbed my bike and taken a long drive somewhere by myself to clear my head.
Maybe into the mountains or to another fucking state.
Far, far away from all this bullshit I’ve gotten myself into.
Mom’s declining again. Meredith’s dead. Malic is out in the fucking wind, doing God knows what.
Too bad for me, I had to be at the study session.
This project means a lot for our grade, and I can’t fuck over Oli. Even Mack, the fucker.
I twirl my cigarette between my fingers, staring straight ahead at the emptiness of the parking lot, and losing myself in all the emotions swirling inside me.
Meredith.
We buried her today. Her ashes. We put them into a plot at the damn cemetery.
Courtesy of our boss and a private funeral ceremony only for us, secured behind a large curtain to maintain our privacy.
But mostly for Boss, whose face isn’t well known around town. Only his reputation and what he’s done.
“She was a good woman, Malic. She didn’t deserve this,” Boss says, a hint of emotion creeping into his voice and breaking through.
He squeezes Malic’s shoulder tightly. Like he’s his son and someone he’s proud of.
But Malic doesn’t react. He barely moves.
Breathes. His eyes are laser-focused on Meredith’s resting place, her headstone not present yet.
Dirt piled over her in a traditional grave.
“We’ll find out who did this to her. The chief is already investigating. ”
“Any surveillance footage?” I rasp, swallowing everything I’m feeling.
Denial. It’s been running rampant inside my head for the last few days since we lost her. Why her? She couldn’t have been targeted by someone in this town.
But she was. Probably because of us and her association with Malic. Everyone knows who he is. And me. Now, she’s gone. Butchered by the enemy and left like trash in a hotel room.
Boss insists Franco did this and is convinced he has evidence against him. But I’m not convinced. And Malic? He’s a damn living ghost.
Boss sighs, swiping a hand down his tired face. “No. There’s nothing there,” he says solemnly, shaking his head in disbelief. “The hotel’s cameras never worked. And the casino cameras weren’t turned that way. Nothing captured who went in and out of that room.”
“I’ll find them,” Malic grits out, taking a step back from the grave. “Whoever they are, I’ll find them, and I will end them for what they did.”
Before I can utter a word, Malic walks away from us, leaving through the woods and disappearing into the foliage. I eye the last place I saw him, hoping he’s not hurting himself or someone else. That’s the last thing I need.
He’s a ticking time bomb. I know he’ll explode soon. When or how, I don’t know. And that scares me more than anything. Containing him on a good day is a difficult task. Witnessing him lose the only other person who loved him is the match that lit the fuse.
“You’ll have to watch him,” Boss says, turning his dark eyes to me. A hint of worry sparks there. He knows what Malic’s like when he goes off the deep end. He’s pulled him back from it many times before. So have I.
“I’m aware.” I nod in agreement.
Now more than ever, Malic will need a babysitter.
His keeper, as he insists on calling me.
Although I’m not sure what he feels on the inside, I know he’s reeling from Meredith’s loss.
She was his last surviving family member.
The last person who kept him truly grounded in the present.
The one family member who was kind to him and understood him.
Boss nods a few times, dragging his phone from his pocket, and blows out a breath of frustration. “Duty calls,” he says before walking away and leaving me there to stare at the dirt covering her grave alone.
“We’ll find them, Mere. I promise you, we won’t rest until we find the people responsible for what they did to you.” And that’s a fucking promise I know we’ll keep. Especially Malic.
I lean down and grab a handful of the dirt and clasp it between my fingers before gently throwing it down again.
A heaviness rests on my shoulders when I turn on my heels and march out of the curtained-off area of the graveyard and observe the space around me.
There’s so much sadness in this place. So much pain is buried in the plots of this graveyard.
A pain I’ve never understood until now. I watched my brother from afar, dwindling away after the fire that took his girlfriend.
Even now, he’s more of a douche than he used to be since she died.
My eyes flick to her damaged grave a few feet away.
Olivia Viotto.
I never knew her well. Hell, I barely saw her unless I went to confront my stupid brother about something.
It’s funny, though. How one small girl could hold the three douchebag kings so well in check.
And when she left? They all spiraled in one way or another.
But that was only from a distance. I’ll never know what was truly going through their minds when I wasn’t looking.
Whatever.
Checking the time, I realize I’m thirty minutes late to my study session from hell.
The only light at the end of the tunnel is Oli.
My friend? My…well, I don’t know what to call him.
Oliver is… cool. Despite his association with my dickhead brother and his stupid gang of idiots.
I really need to know why Oliver has decided to pledge to them when he could pledge with us.
Honestly, I couldn’t give a shit less about Mack and his whiny ass.
Especially today. I don’t need his bullshit.
But I need something to occupy my thoughts besides the greatest loss I’ve ever experienced.
So, with that, I hightail it straight from the graveyard to the study room.
“Wilder?” Oliver’s soft voice brings me back to the present, almost startling me.
The parking lot. Shit. Right. I’m in the car. With Oliver. Outside our gym. About to spar with him. We came from my house after I changed. My mind is so fucked up right now that I don’t even remember the drive home or the drive here.
I shake my head, snapping my gaze from the empty lot to the guy sitting in the passenger seat of my car.
Fuck. I didn’t want to bring my car. I wanted to bring my bike.
Ride. Be free of whatever this shit is that’s eating me alive.
Maybe it’s the grief of losing Meredith.
Or maybe it’s the culmination of everything I’ve dealt with my entire fucking life coming to the surface.
Whatever it is, I’ll solve all my problems in the sparring room. It’ll help fill this void expanding in my chest and give me some direction. I hope, at least.
Oliver’s face twists with concern. “You okay?” he asks softly, more softly than normal.
My body melts at his words. There it is again.
The question only he seems to ask. Maybe he has an intuition for these sorts of feelings.
By the way he’s staring at me, he sees right through my facade.
But I would never admit to anyone that I’m not exactly okay.
That I’m falling apart from the stress coming at me from all sides.
It’s fucked up, isn’t it? The urge to have someone check up on me sits in the back of my head, begging for the chance to unload my problems. But I can’t simply say that I’m not.
So I clear my throat. That’s what pretending is for, right?
“Yeah. I’m good. A lot on my mind.” Not that I want to talk about it. I need to get into that sparring room before I lose my shit. “Let’s go in, and I’ll show you around.” I blow out a breath when I open the driver’s door and slam it shut, and put my cigarette behind my ear.
Much better.
My chest heaves with a fresh inhale, and I slowly blow out a breath, getting myself together.