Chapter 33

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

MAYA

T he following day, I’m at home taking a shower. My cell phone is set on loud, resting on the closed toilet seat in case the hospital contacts me. Last night, I ended up falling asleep around three a.m. It’s eight now. I only came back so I could quickly shower.

My phone is playing the radio. It’s my effort to get my mind off of everything.

Outside, beyond the shower noise and the thumping of my heart, it’s started to rain heavily. It hammers against the window as if somebody is engaging in some good old-fashioned pathetic fallacy, trying to get the weather to match my mood.

After my shower, I carry my phone into the bedroom and lie on my towel, feeling bone tired. Every minute of sleep I missed hits me all at once. The music ends, and the radio host says, “What a tune, what a vibe. In less groovy news, The Rat Pack Retreat, a bar commonly associated with the Trentini crime Family, has burned down. Official reports state that gang violence is the suspected reason.”

My heart thunders as I take in the radio host’s words. I sit up, remembering yesterday how serious and intense Tristan was. It was like he was getting ready to rip the world apart.

I want to know if he had anything to do with it. Or, if it was gang-on-gang crap, then Tristan wasn’t at the bar. I can only pray he wasn’t there and that he’s okay.

Luna yawns from the bottom of the bed, readjusting her position to better form her body to Loki’s. The two little dogs have become fast friends.

My eyes grow heavy. I try not to feel guilty as sleep begins to take me. Mom was passed out when I left. Riley’s getting ready to go. Tristan doesn’t want me.

Soon, in the not-too-distant future, I’ll have to get used to being alone.

This idea shouldn’t send fear pumping through me. There shouldn’t be this ugly, low voice whispering in me, telling me everything is going to be miserable, lonely, pathetic, pointless. I’ve been alone for so long.

Sleep almost overtook me when Loki erupts into barking, aiming it at the window. I leap up and run over, staring past the rain sliding down the glass. Standing across the street is Tristan, soaked, his hair glistening, his shirt sticking to the solid outline of his muscled form.

I don’t stop to question. He said he wanted to forget, but he’s here, and he’s not hurt!

Quickly getting dressed, I run downstairs and out into the rain. It flows warmly down my body. I don’t even realize I’m barefoot until I’m standing in front of Tristan. He stares down at me with his jaw tight, eyes blazing with a new intensity.

“It was me,” he roars over the sound of the lashing rain. He steps forward and grips my hips in a way he never has before, as if he doesn’t just want me. He needs me. “I burned those fuckers. I killed those people tonight—bad people, but I did it, Maya. That’s who I am: a killer, a bad man.”

“You’re not a bad man,” I yell, grabbing his shoulders and pulling him closer. “You’re …” I pause and then say it. I can’t hold back anymore. “… my man.”

He leans in for a kiss.