Tight Knit (19 page)

“I fixed it for you, Tal.” He’s trying to tower over me, to threaten me with his size. Lachlan has never used his size over me, and he’s supposed to be the violent one. Even when he hauled Violet out of the support group it was like a mother ushering a misbehaving child from a grocery store. Deacon is squeezing and lifting. He pulls me close to him and looms over me with a look in his eye that’s terrifying.

“I fixed it for you because I know about your Nan. I know this is important to her, so obviously important to you. I don’t even get a thank you?”

I’m still jerking my arm, trying to get away. More frantically this time. How dare he use Nan against me. 

I wish Lachlan were here. It hits me with so much force my whole body stops working. Realizing I’m falling for a guy while I’m being pushed around by my ex is a strange way to come to terms with the feelings I’ve been ignoring. 

Deacon shakes me hard, and I feel the bruise starting to form but I fight harder. I set my face in defiance, like Lachlan would, and I stare him down with the same intensity. 

“Fixed what?”

“The Charity thing. I convinced my Grandma to let it go, as long as he doesn’t show up, you’re good to go.” 

“Well aren’t you a hero.” My voice is like acid and his grip falters for a second before he tightens it so much I whimper in pain.

His expectant gaze makes me sink into a blinding fear. I’m trying not to think of what that look means. I feel it hang over my head. I feel the sudden weight of this ‘favor’ loom over me, shadowing me in Deacon’s debt. He knows I’d do anything to make Nan happy. He knows this show is only important to me because of her. He’s using Nan to get what he wants. 

I’m flooded with thoughts of Lachlan, of what he owes people who have helped him. How he must have felt and how everyone just abandons him before they even get to know him. I want him. I don’t want to abandon him because he’s difficult. Because he’s broken. We’re both broken.

We’re all a little broken. 

We all harbor little pieces of pain that accumulate inside us. Pain we wish we could cast out, but in truth defines us. All we really need is someone to help us bear the hurt. Someone to say I’m right beside you. Someone to say no matter what you’re not alone. I want that. I want to be that. For him.

I glare up at Deacon. Putting everything I have behind it. I choose who I owe. I choose who I want in my life. 

 “I don’t owe you anything,” I say before he gets a chance to say anything. His eyebrows raise and he leans down so our noses are almost touching. 

“Don’t you?” He smirks, dropping my arm. There’s definitely going to be a bruise. He’s smirking. Why is he smirking?

“This works both ways, sweetheart. I can tell Grandmother to kick you out of your little artsy show
and
I can help send your boyfriend back to prison by slipping into my testimony how I saw him shaking you. Giving you that nice little bruise on your arm. I just asked him nicely to let you go. I didn’t want it to escalate to a fight.”

 “You wouldn’t. No one would believe you.” 

“Seriously, Talia? No one would believe that
he
would hit a woman? Isn’t that why his mommy is in jail. Because his daddy beat the shit out of her and she finally killed him? I’d be careful how you talk to me. I know a lot more than you think I do. And plus if it came down to him or me… Who do you think they’d believe?”

My mouth won’t work, and I watch him walk away rubbing the spot on my arm where his fingers were. He wouldn’t. No one is that cruel. 

A month ago I would have believed that. Right now, I’m not so sure.

Suddenly I’m hyper aware. I can feel someone behind me. I can smell the faint scent of spice and laundry. My thoughts are crystal clear as I realize Lachlan is standing behind me. Deacon knew he was there. He said all of that knowing that Lachlan was right there.

I spin slowly and expect to see that glazed fury in Lachlan’s eyes. But I don’t. His eyes exhibit pure pain. His face is tired, defeated. 

“You are so much better than all this,” he says. 

I reach out to him, but he won’t meet my eyes. My fingers brush the hard plaster of his cast as he walks by and pulls his hand away. 

I lose him at the exact moment that I finally admit I’ve fallen for him.

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

Lachlan

I see the wristband when she reaches for me. She is wearing it, and I feel a dizzying hope. Then I think of the way Deacon was holding on to her. 

The hope doesn’t last. I should know better than to think it would.

I’m crushed by the realization that I’ve succeeded in dragging her down. I’m involving her in the shit I’m trying to get out of. I can see the fear in her eyes. I see the recognition in her face of how far people will go to get what they want. 

I don’t give a shit about Deacon’s threats. I’d gladly go to jail again if it protects her.

My phone buzzes.

Of course.

The rest of the day is a blur, and I don’t have my first Talia-free thought until Gram and I are eating. 

She taps her knobby finger on the table. 

“I spoke with your mother today,” she says. She’s talking to me now in short spurts. I’ve never seen her so angry with me, and this really isn’t the worst I’ve ever done. Maybe she’s getting tired of me, too. 

I look up. “Oh yeah?” 

 “Her parole hearing is in one month. They are moving it up. Good behavior or something like that.” 

“Really? For a murder charge? She’s only been in for a couple years.” 

I always tried to take the brunt of his shit but he always found a way to get us both. Even in death.

“Well it’s not for sure, son. And your father’s death was accidental. It’s not a murder charge. Manslaughter, and they went easy on her because of what your father did to her. You know that, so don’t act like a child.” Her mood swings were starting to disorient me. It was just a question.

My heart sinks and Gram reaches across the table to take my hand. 

“It’s just a hearing though,” she continues. “They might deny her. We have to be prepared for that.” 

“I know, Gram.” I squeeze her hand, but she doesn’t let go.

I don’t usually let these touches linger but ever since Talia, I have this growing urge to be close to someone. I almost want to climb into Grams lap like I did when I was a kid and cry. Almost. 

“I love you, Lachlan. You know that right?” she’s suddenly so serious it stops my breathing.

“I know, Gram.” I squeeze her hand again.

~

It’s Friday night, and I have to meet Garret tonight for what really is going to be my last run. It has to be. This has to stop. I shake as I walk through the snow to his front gate. I’m not nervous to tell him. I’m nervous that I made the wrong choice. I have a plan, and I’ve never had a plan before. I’m convinced it’s going to blow up in my face, but I want to try. That’s what scares me. That’s why I shake. 

Garret comes out to let me in, but I don’t get a smile or a fist bump or a ‘hey’ or anything. He walks ahead of me and the sight of him makes me sick. How can he do this? Just be a bitch his whole life? Not have a single care other than getting high?

I stand and spread my arms and legs so Garrett can check me. He usually waits until after. But we’re no longer cool so he checks me first before getting the dope. 

“They’re being watched,” he mutters as he finishes checking me.

“What?” 

“The dealer. He’s being watched. I’ve been told we have to be extra careful now. Straight business.” He runs up the stairs, and I watch the empty hall with my heart thundering. He comes down with a small duffel bag. That is a lot. Too much. If I get caught with that I’ll be dead. Or I might as well be dead because I’ll spend the prime of my life in maximum security. 

“I can’t take this, man.” 

“You can’t?” He sneers and dumps the bag at my feet.

“No, I can’t. I’m 18 now. If I get caught with this—”

“But you won’t, Lannie. You know that. You’re the best. You manage to be on Probation, go to drug counselling
and
run drugs without getting caught. No one’s as good as you. That’s why you have to do this one.” He stabs my chest with his finger.

I’m speechless. How sad is it that my biggest talent is carting drugs from one fucking douchebag to another? Garrett stops in the doorway to his disgusting living room and looks over his shoulder at me. 

“It’s nothing personal. It’s business. You know that right?” 

I don’t say anything. Of course it’s personal. It’s always been personal. This is punishment for telling them I was done. It’s meant to scare me. 

It’s working.

I toss the duffel in the trunk because it’s a bit obvious. I’m so tempted to look what’s in it but I don’t. The cardinal rule of running. Never look.

My phone buzzes and I am waiting to read Deacon’s address but it’s different. 

1328 C King Street. Bay 4. Half an hour. Don’t fuck with us on this one.
 

My heart starts to hammer in my chest and my breathing quickens. This must be what Talia feels like when she panics. It sucks. It really fucking sucks. 

I throw Grams car in drive and make my way down the slippery streets. The closer I get the harder I shake. I can see the warehouse in the distance. 

I don’t want to. I don’t want to do this anymore. 

Stopping the car in the big parking lot, I hit the steering wheel with my good hand and yell obscenities at it until I feel better. It might be five seconds or five minutes. I don’t know. 

There’s a tap on my window and I jump. I’m so on edge my teeth are grinding. Outside the foggy glass I see Violet’s frail and sunken face. I get out and grab the duffel out of the trunk. 

“What are you doing here, Violet?” I try to keep any emotion out of my voice. 

“Garrett told me you’d be here. He told me you want out.” 

“Yeah, so? Of course I want out.” I point to the duffel. “I can get locked up for real this time. Why the fuck wouldn’t I want out? I hate this. I fucking hate it.” 

Violet stops me with a hand on my chest. She raises her other hand to my face and strokes my cheek. 

“It’s that girl, isn’t it?”

I ignore her and try to step around her, but she won’t let go of me. 

“I loved you too, you know.” Her voice is hoarse. Her words hit me hard, but I don’t know how to deal with it. I laugh at how fucking stupid I am and try to move around her again. She stops me. I hope she doesn’t think I was laughing at her. 

Her expression doesn’t change. She still looks blank, but there’s sadness in her eyes. 

“Just because you don’t know what love looks like, doesn’t mean people can’t love you, Lannie.” 

I see flashes from the past, chunks of time spent with Violet. How she was shy and hesitant, how I craved her. How she would be everywhere I was. The way she would kiss me wildly like there was no one else. The way she would reach out to me when I was angry but I wouldn’t let her in. 

I place my hand over Violet’s, still on my chest.

“I’m sorry, Violet,” I say and mean it. With everything I have, I mean it. “I didn’t realize…”  

She smiles a small it’s-too-late-but-thanks kind of smile. Then her face goes serious. She takes my hand and presses something into it. It’s cold and sharp, and I know what it is before I look down. 

“I don’t need a blade, Violet. Don’t be ridiculous.” I try to give her back the switchblade but she won’t take it. 

“No Lannie, this isn’t a run.” The sadness is back in her eyes and she touches my face again. “You want out. They don’t let people out. This is a trap. Please take the blade. I’m scared of what they’re going to do to you.” 

I suck in a deep breath, and I’m surprised I’m not as freaked about this as I should be.

“What do you mean a trap?”

Violet sighs. “I’ve seen it before. It’s different for everyone but it always gets out of control. They always go too far.”

“What are they going to do to me, Violet?” 

She’s crying and shaking her head. 

“I don’t know. That’s why I came. I don’t know, but I wanted to warn you.” 

“What good does that do? If I run away they will just hunt me down. I can’t do anything about it.” 

“But they are going to hurt you. If you can fight back…” Her voice falters, and her head hangs. I put my hand on her shoulder.

“I’m done with fighting. They can’t do anything worse to me than I’ve already been through.” 

Violet smiles sympathetically, “I guess not.” 

I place the knife back in her hand and close her fingers around it. My hands are shaking, but I believe my words. I’m terrified, but I’m tired of fighting. I’m tired of hurting. I want to be done with all of this. Not for Talia. For me. 

It just took falling for Talia for me to see that. 

“They’ve never killed anyone before, right?” I ask with a shaky voice. Violet shakes her head.

“No.” 

“Then I can handle whatever they do to me. Thank you, Violet. Thank you for caring about me when I obviously couldn’t do the same for you.” 

She wraps her arms around my neck and grabs a fistful of my hair. I hug her back briefly before letting go.

“Be careful, Lannie.” 

I nod and turn. My legs are weak but my determination is strong. I will end this. I have to. 

 Violet’s gone before I step through the huge metal doors of the warehouse. 

The first hit is to my gut and it steals every molecule of breath I have. I fall to my knees and the duffel bag hits the ground. The second hit is to the shoulder, and I slump forward, leaning on my one good hand. The kicks start. Hammering my ribs, my legs, my arms. 

  I should be crying out, or fighting back, but I don’t. 

I think they’ll never stop when someone yells. I roll over gasping for air. The room is dark and stale smelling. A shadow hovers over me. I blink hard through the pain in my ribs. 

“You don’t get to choose when you stop running for us, kid. I don’t give a shit if you’re 18 now. You’re done when I say you’re done.” The voice is one I’ve never heard before. It’s low and scratchy and speaks with such authority I am convinced it’s the dealer.