Trust(83)

He backhanded me.

Still I smiled up at him. “Gunshot,” I said, a note of triumph in my voice. “Someone’s calling the cops right now.”

Nose wrinkled, his gaze was incredulous. “You’re fucking crazy.”

“And you’re not the first dickhead to pull a gun on me.” I managed a shrug.

Poor Dillon. The frown worsened as he looked between me and John. Down the street, a car honked. Dillon jumped.

“Shit,” he muttered. “You’re that girl. The one who was at the Drop Stop with him, right?”

“Yep.” I grinned, blood dribbling from my lip. “And if you think there’s anything I wouldn’t do to protect your brother, then you’re the one that’s fucking crazy.”

He just looked at me.

The inside of my mouth tasted like blood. Gross, I must have bitten my tongue. I spat onto the ground and made a mental note to apologize to Levi later. If I was still alive. At this rate, who knew? But at least I’d go out fighting. John remained still and silent. My heart felt swollen at the sight. Like it was somehow at two or three times its capacity. Thank God I’d told him I loved him.

If it had to end, at least he knew. To think, Hang and I had joked about it just the other night. Shit.

I didn’t want to die.

The thought hit me out of nowhere. All of the crazy, risky, wild, dangerous, irrational things I’d been doing, like rushing through my firsts. I’d been wrong, desperate. Just waiting for the end. Waiting for the man with the gun.

Now here he was, and I wanted more time. Not just a bunch of quick thrills. But time.

Time with John and time with Mom, too. Time to graduate and move out. Time to travel and grow. I wanted more of everything, but the choice was out of my hands.

I pulled myself to my feet, legs trembling.

The gun barrel was suspended in space, mere inches from my head.

It was shaking. Dillon’s hand was shaking. I looked past the gun, fixing my eyes on him. The arm holding the gun was outstretched, the man’s weight leaning back away from me, as if the gun was his shield. His confidence had fled.

“Shoot me, and they put you in jail and throw away the key,” I said. “You’ll be cuffed and locked up in a cell before John even comes to. And you’ll be out of his life. Forever.”

No matter how this turned out for me, John would live. He would be free. He would have time.

“There’s nothing here for you anymore,” I said. “And there never will be.”

Without a word, Dillon turned and staggered out of the house. The front door banging shut as he disappeared into the darkness.

Gone. Holy shit, he was gone.

Relief swamped me. Hope. I didn’t even realize tears were flowing down my face for a while. Panic had held the pain in check. With Dillon gone, the bullet wound in my side sang with agony. I’d been shot. Holy shit. Thankfully my brain kicked in. I needed a phone. But moving was out since I suddenly felt like I’d been hit by a truck.

“Think,” I ordered myself.

John’s back pocket. It was where he kept his cell. I crawled closer to him, feeling up his ass without any of the usual euphoria associated with the act.

“Edie . . .” he mumbled.

I held my face close to his, trying to smile but not quite managing. “It’s okay—I’m getting help.”

“My brother. Where is he?”

“He’s gone. Everything’s going to be all right.” God, I hoped it would be.

The cell’s screen was cracked, but it lit up. Blood smeared the screen and I held it to my ear, listening to the ringing. It didn’t take long. I squeezed my eyelids shut, gulping as the tears of pain and relief flowed.

“H-hello? We need help . . .”





“We had such a weird beginning, you and me.”

John glanced up from his textbook and smiled. “We’ve had a weird everything.”

“True.”

Christmas Eve and we were sitting at the dining table at my house, pretending to study. It was basically the only way to make Mom feel safe. After all, we couldn’t be getting into gunfights with drug addicts if we were studying. Surely.

It had taken her a while to calm down after the Dillon incident. I couldn’t really blame her. Almost having your child killed twice in one year seemed excessive, even to me. She’d tried to ban John from my life. There’d been tears and tantrums, and not only on my side. First she’d threatened me with Arizona, then with returning to my old school. Even Grandma flew out to yell at me, Mom, and anyone else who’d listen. Luckily, Matt put on the charm and calmed her down. Some of the time, at least.

For a month or so, John and I had only been allowed to see each other at school. But we’d waited her out. I had a newfound appreciation for having at least a little patience, and John had been understanding about the whole thing. After all, I had gotten shot. We were both alive, however, and he told me he wasn’t going anywhere without me.

There’d been no major internal injuries, thank God. Though there had been surgery to retrieve the bullet. Come summer, the scar wouldn’t stop me from wearing a bikini, and John’s broken nose gave him a kind of rough look that I liked. If anything, Dillon’s attack had only brought us closer. It was us against the world, forever and ever.