No, he’d counted on it.
I consider finding him and punching him in the face for playing with us, but does it really matter how I got Shay? The important thing is that I have her.
Sin was right though—Talon is more of a smart, manipulative bastard than we give him credit for.
* * *
“What are you doing?” I ask Shay when I return to the room and find her standing on a chair, dusting the windows.
“Cleaning your room,” she says, not looking at me.
“Our room,” I correct, approaching her. She turns around, sees my cut lip and scowls.
“No fighting, my ass. What happened?”
The concern in her voice is palpable. Little does she know she’s about to have more important things on her mind than Talon getting in one hit on me. I don’t want to tell her, but I know I have to. How the fuck do I bring this up though? By the way, your father is dead? I’m sure he loved her, he did care for her and apparently dote on her; maybe toward the end he just got desperate. People do anything when they’re trying to save themselves. Anything. They don’t care about other people when they’re that low, struggling to get up. How am I supposed to ask her about the work she did for him, when I have to tell her that he’s dead? Fuck, I don’t know at all how to handle this in a gentle way.
“There was a punch or two, that’s all,” I say, lifting her off the chair by her waist and placing her on the floor. She reaches up and touches my split lip, making me wince. “It’s fine.”
“What happened?” she asks, wrapping her tiny arms around my hips. I sit down on the bed and lift her onto my lap.
“I have some bad news,” I start, clearing my throat. Who am I kidding? I don’t have the fuckin’ tact for this. I’m just going to blurt it out and she’s probably going to go into shock.
“What is it?” she asks, cupping my face with her hands when I stay silent. “Is Talon okay? Oh my god, did you knock him out or something? Is he in the hospital?”
She really can be dramatic at times.
“Talon is fine.” For now. “He did tell me some bad news about your father though.”
Bad news?
I could kill myself.
“Bad news” was her father having to stay an extra year in prison or something, not that he was dead as a doornail.
“What is it?” she asks, warily, her brow furrowing.
Fuck.
I just need to say it, not drag it out.
“He’s uhhh . . .” Fuck. “He’s dead, Shay. I’m sorry. He was killed in prison.”
She freezes and stares at me in confusion as if she doesn’t understand what I’m saying.
“He’s dead?”
I nod.
Her bottom lip trembles.
“Oh my god,” she whispers.
And then she cries.
I hold on to her as she cries on my shoulder. I know there’s nothing I can say or do to make this better, to fix this for her, so I just hold her and let her cry. I rub her back and make little sounds one would use to soothe a baby or a puppy.
Fuck, I’m really terrible at comforting someone, but for her, I want to try. I don’t want her to go to someone else for comfort, I want to be able to fulfill all her needs, even ones I’m not quite comfortable with. I don’t think her father really deserves her tears, but then again he did raise her. And Shay loves him, there’s no question about it.
“I’m sorry,” I say over and over again.
Soon, she stops making any noise, but the tears still fall.
Somehow I think the silent crying is worse.
I lay her down in bed and wrap her in my arms. She cries herself to sleep, and all I do is feel helpless, wishing I could take away her pain.
But I can’t.
She’ll need to fix the hole inside her on her own. Afterward though, she’ll be stronger than she was.
And she needs to be strong, because no matter how hard I’m going to try to save her, it seems the world isn’t done fucking her over yet.
TWENTY-TWO
Shayla
I DON’T leave bed for three days, except to use the bathroom. I don’t eat much, although Vinnie tries to make me. I just don’t feel very hungry.
I feel exhausted.
Mentally and physically drained.
My father was all I had left, really, besides Talon, and now he’s gone too. At least when he was in prison, I knew eventually I’d see him again. But now. Never again. I don’t know what to do to make the pain go away.
I don’t want to be like this. I know I can’t be sad forever—the world waits for no one—but how do I go on every day with this pain in my gut? Nothing means anything anymore. I just want to sleep, hide under these sheets for the rest of my life. Talon calls me, but I don’t feel like talking to anyone. Faye and the girls drop by to check on me, and I thank them but tell them that I’m okay, I just want to sleep.
On day four, Vinnie walks into the room with a determined look on his face. He opens the blinds, pulls the blanket off me, and says, “Get up, now.”
I roll over and ignore him. I hear him running water in the bathroom. Filling the bath? The next second, I’m being dragged down the bed by my feet. I start kicking my legs but there’s no way I can overpower him. He lifts me in the air and over his shoulder, then pulls down my shorts. Putting me down on my feet, he removes my top, then carries me into the bathtub, like he’s done before.
“I don’t want to do anything,” I say, my voice weak and pathetic. “I don’t want to leave this room.”