Just Let Me Love You (Judge Me Not #3)(31)

This family. Sometimes, I swear…

I just thank God for Chase. If it wasn’t for this thing with Cass hanging over my f*cking head, I’d count the past few days spent with my brother as some of the best.

Spending time with Chase was always good. Well, until it wasn’t. But it’s good again these days, and that’s all that counts. It’s a relief, a lifting of a burden. I spent too many years of my young life harboring a lot of resentment towards my older brother. I hated that he’d turned to drugs and f*cked up his life.

But I learned toting around all that hate in your heart is a heavy burden. I’m just glad we fixed that shit. Though, I have to say I finally understand where Chase was back then. I’ve used drugs lately to escape, too. It’s an easy fix.

Just like violence, which is what I’m about to do.

However, one thing is different from Chase’s past: I won’t let my ass end up in prison.

So why am I taking a chance like this?

Because I have to; I’m committed to this shit now. And if this thing goes down how Cass and I planned, we will be rid of Paul…for good.

The plan is a good one, I think. I’m supposed to pick up Cass straight-away after the deed is done. She and I will then head down to Mexico, to lay low for a while.

I figure we can find an empty beach somewhere. We can live in a tent, and I’ll find some kind of work for money. Cassie says she’ll work, too.

So, yeah, we’ll make it. And someday maybe I can return.

I sure hope that’s true, because thinking on it now, I know for sure I’m gonna miss my mom…and my brother. They’re all I’ve really got in this shitty world.

My eyes blur with tears, and I swipe them away. “*,” I hiss. “Man up, dude.”

I turn onto Vulture Mine Road.

Shit. This is far too real.

Glad I skipped the pills Cassie had at her house. I’d really be a wreck if I’d thrown back a few of those. Partying, glad I’ve slowed that shit down.

Or, rather, I’ve tried to.

Cassie, though, she’s one crazy chick. She’s all about getting f*cked up. I just haven’t been into it much lately. Things in my life have been better, and I haven’t felt that need to shut things out.

Glancing up at my reflection in the rearview mirror, I ask, “So, why are you doing this shit now, dumbass?”

I don’t have an answer—not one for myself, not one for the world—so I focus back on the road. I’m waylaid, though, when my eyes are drawn to the glint of something silver lying on the passenger seat.

The gun.

I glance over at the pistol I bought from Chase’s ex-dealer, Kyle Tanner.

That dude, what a trip.

Snorting, I reach over and grab the gun. I rest the piece in my lap, but when the cold metal starts to feel like it’s seeping through my jeans and right into my f*cking skin, I move the gun back to the seat next to me.

I return to focusing on my task at hand as I continue down the road. It will be dark soon, and already there are lights ahead. I shudder when I realize the glow is from Paul’s trailer, less than a mile away.

That trailer is the only sign of civilization for miles.

I hit the gas, driving beyond the trailer. Eventually, I pull off and park in a truck turnout.

Shutting down the engine, I whisper to dead air, “Showtime, kid.”

Then again, maybe not.

I may sound all confident, but it’s a lie, a sham. The truth is I’m scared to death. And that makes me just kind of freeze up on the spot.

Dude, this is real, I tell myself for the hundredth time.

What’s it going to feel like to kill someone? Damn, that is some serious jail time if I am caught. Not to mention the moral aspect. Sure, Paul is a prick, but this is f*cking murder.

“I am too sober for this shit,” I mutter.

I don’t want drugs—I need to be sharp—but I sure could use another shot right now. Too bad I didn’t think to grab one of the bottles of booze before leaving Cassie’s place. I had no idea my buzz would wear off so quickly.

I guess coming to grips with the fact you’re about to off someone has a way of sobering you up.

I pick up the gun and check to make sure it’s loaded.

I know it is, but it’s an opportunity to stall.

Before I open the car door, I think about a conversation I had with Chase a couple of days ago. He asked me about Cass. He wanted to know if I loved her. My reply was, “I guess.”

Chase then told me I was too young to be involved in something so serious; especially when my best answer as to whether or not I loved my girlfriend was “I guess.”

I was only being truthful with my response. Sure, I tell Cassie I love her—and a part of me does—but that wasn’t what Chase was asking.

He wanted to know if Cassie was my Kay.

And that I don’t know.

I’d like to hope she is—that’d be cool—but I kind of know deep inside she is not.

“So, why the f*ck are you about to murder someone for her then?” I ask myself aloud.

I push the thought away swiftly.

“Let’s just get this done,” I murmur, opening the car door, at last.

I step out and walk up to the road.

There is not a soul in sight.

The lights in Paul’s trailer flicker shades of blue. He must be watching TV, changing the channels. Good, let him be distracted; that way I’ll get the jump on him.