Abby rolls her neck as if she’s stiff. “And then what if Tommy is the shooter? Are you going to keep that information to yourself or are you going to the police?”
I stay silent, but I might as well tell her I’m on the feel-good side of the police. In less than three weeks I’ve held Abby as she bled and then untied her from the back of a car. My patience with this nonsense is gone.
“Ricky’s offering me a promotion,” Abby says. “You don’t offer promotions to people you just tried to kill. My world may be jacked up, but it’s not that insane.”
My mind’s trying to place all the pieces on the chessboard Abby’s in the middle of and I can’t seem to keep up. My hands have a slight shake and a hunger overtakes me. Odds are my blood sugar is low and I need to get sugar in me before I go hypoglycemic. Not what typically happens when I wake up, but it’s noon and I can’t remember the last time I ate. “Then you think Eric is lying.”
She meets my eyes and all I spot is exhaustion. “I don’t know. Tommy lied to me last night before Eric appeared. Wouldn’t be the first time people used the idea of taking someone out to gain position.”
A deadly calm comes over me. “So let’s start the loop all over again. You tell me where to find Tommy, and I’ll confirm if he’s the bastard that shot you.”
Her eyebrows rise and that damn I’m-smarter-than-everyone expression falls over her face. “So then I permit you to finger a guy who’s dangerous? Finger a trusted friend of Linus and Ricky? You think that will make you safe?”
“You think ignoring that someone you know shot you is safe, either?”
“I have responsibilities,” she seethes. “I have people I have to take care of. There are burdens that I carry that you can never understand.”
“That’s bull, Abby.”
Abby stands then, staring me down like I’m a soldier on the other side of the battlefield pointing a gun at her. It’s a dangerous expression. One that darkens her beautiful face, one that should scare the hell out of me, but damn me for only wanting to kiss her and by the way her eyes smolder, she’s thinking of kissing me, too.
“I can’t be you. I can’t go around and do whatever the fuck I want whenever the fuck I want to and have a whole bunch of other people take care of me. You don’t have a clue what it’s like to have responsibility. You don’t have a clue what it’s like to always know that every choice you make can mean the world crashing down around you.”
I do know what she’s talking about. I’ve lived with that type of responsibility since the moment a doctor told me I had type 1 diabetes. “Screw that, Abby. You don’t know shit about me.”
“You’re right, I don’t. Nobody knows you. You just walk around and stay silent and act insane and not one person knows you and in the end no one knows me. But the difference between us, Logan, is that your secrets won’t kill you. Your secrets won’t kill anyone. My secrets—they can hurt everyone I know and love. I’m seriously tired of having this conversation with you. I’m seriously tired of having to tell you in eight different languages that we are no longer friends.”
“You keep saying the words, but it’s me that keeps catching you when you fall and when you’re in my arms, I never feel you fighting.”
Abby presses her lips together in an annoyed way. “I am failing to, once again, see how any of my problems are your problems. I’m also failing to see why you can’t just listen and stay away.”
The out-of-control urge to shake her rips through my body. “Because I care for you. Because all of us care for you. You might be able to turn off your feelings for us, but we can’t turn off our feelings for you.” I pound my hand to my chest. “I can’t turn off my feelings for you!”
My chest rises and falls like I just rounded all three bases to make an infield home run and Abby appears just as flustered.
My secrets could definitely kill me just as much as a bullet to the head could kill Abby and that’s what’s frustrating about this. She can walk away from this life, but me...with having diabetes...I don’t have a choice.
The door to the cabin opens and the laughter that had been falling from the guys walking in dies. Abby and I keep staring at each other, both of us daring the other to look away. Her cheeks are red, so is her neck. She’s flushed with anger, flushed with embarrassment from the words I just admitted to her.
Isaiah walks out of the bathroom and he circles the room, avoiding walking between me and Abby and greets Noah first and then the other guys.
West lopes in like he always does, that overconfident stride with his hat on backwards and tosses an arm around Abby. “Rough night, Abby?
“Screw you, Young.” She pushes him away, breaking eye contact with me, and he only smiles at her, undeterred by her anger. “I need one of you to take me back.”
There had been rustling as Ryan, Chris, Noah, and West had been dropping their stuff on the floor, but all movement stops.
Ryan eyes me as he steps forward. He’s always been the leader of not only our baseball team, but of me and Chris. His girlfriend is Beth, the best friend and the self-proclaimed adopted sister of Noah and Isaiah, so he holds a lot of weight not just with me, but with a lot of guys in this room.
“I’m going to admit to not being up-to-date on things,” Ryan says to Abby, “but weren’t you shot and then just kidnapped?”
Her face squishes in disgust as she levels a glare at me. “Fantastic. You told everyone. What a great friend you turned out to be.”
She’s needling me. Trying to poke me until I fall off the edge. Abby wants me to get mad, toss her out, drive her home and permit her to continue to sacrifice herself for me and for her grandmother. Abby knows I pride myself on my ability to keep not only her secrets, but my own. She’s testing me...trying to make me believe that she thinks I’m not loyal.
Since I’ve met her, Abby has pushed and pushed and pushed. First into attraction, then into friendship, then into caring. If she walks away now she’ll never come back, and it dawns on me that she’s pushed me into falling in love.
I’m in love with Abby, and I hate her for it. It’s impossible to love someone who is willingly throwing their life away.
“Think I’m a shitty friend, Abby?”
She cocks her head in that seductive, deadly way. “Yes, I do.”
Secrets. Secrets are how Abby operates. It’s how she’s able to keep her job, keep up that damn wall that she throws up any time any of us get too close. Abby told me her secrets. Told me because she trusted me. Told me because she cares about me. Told me to drive me away, but Abby doesn’t understand that I’m desperate to keep her safe even if it means losing her in the process.
“Abby has a lead on who shot her,” I say and Abby’s eyes widen. “And she has no intention of quitting selling, even if it means she’ll die in the end.”
“What are you doing?” Abby steps toward me.
“You said it—your secrets could kill you, so let’s not make them secrets anymore.”
Abby rushes at me like she’s going to take me down, but West snakes an arm around her waist to prevent the tackle. “Easy, Abby.”
“I’m going to fucking kill him.”
“Fine,” I say. “But then you’ll still be alive.”
“You’re such a hypocrite,” she spits. “You keep your secrets, but you can’t keep mine.”
Pain and hurt and agony flash across her face and each emotion tears at me. I draw a hand over my face and dig for the courage to say the rest—to kill what’s left between me and Abby.
“Don’t do it,” Abby begs and Abby never begs. She’s crushing me, but it would crush me more if she died. “Please, Logan, don’t do it.”
“You were shot. You were shot and then you were kidnapped. You don’t have any more second or third chances.”
“Logan...please...” She sags
against West’s hold and West looks lost as to what to do. When I glance around the room, we all wear the mask of those who are lost. Abby doesn’t break. Not even when she was shot. Not even when we pulled her bound from the back of a car, but the truth—the truth terrifies her...her truth terrifies us.
I suck in a deep breath and jump off the ledge. “Abby sells drugs because she’s taking care of her grandmother. She’s sick, has Alzheimer’s, and for reasons Abby can explain if she wants, Abby refuses to put her grandmother in a nursing home. She sells drugs because that’s what her father did before he went to prison and Abby’s able to make enough money to care for her grandmother. Abby’s okay getting shot, getting kidnapped, dying because the one person she has in the world needs her. We can judge her. We can hate what she does, but ask yourselves if any of us would do anything different if the people we loved needed us.”
I purposefully meet Isaiah’s gaze. He’s drawn lines. Protects his friend, loves her like a sister, but stays away from anything associated with the drugs. He asked me weeks ago where I stood...if I was solid on where I draw my lines. “I’m solid in where I stand. It’s with Abby. She needs help and I’m going to give it. Where are you standing?”
Abby elbows her way out of Logan’s hold and places as much distance between us as possible. “I hate you.”
I work to keep my face blank. I’m not falling in love. I am in love. Abby hates me. I love her. My life truly is messed up. “Abby’s going to show me who she thinks shot her then I’m going to the police. In the meantime, we need to figure out how to make money for Abby. We do that, she won’t have a reason to sell anymore.”
Abby crosses her arms over her chest and smacks the back of her head against the wooden wall. “I seriously fucking hate you. You are absolutely dead to me. I’m not showing you the shooter, you aren’t helping me, and once we leave here I never want to see you again.”
I betrayed her. Spilled her secrets. Did something she never thought I would do. There’s no way to make this better. No way to win her back, but if I shared her secrets, I should be strong enough to spill mine.
“You were wrong on something, Abby.”
Abby chooses to stare at the ceiling over acknowledging me.
“Your secrets can kill you and...” my stomach bottoms out “...my secrets can kill me.”
Her head darts in my direction and I shift my footing as I have everyone’s undivided attention. I’ve kept this a secret for years. Too many years. Never wanting anyone to think differently of me, to treat me differently, to see me as broken...but I’ve broken Abby and it’s time to break me in return. “I’m diabetic.”
Abby’s forehead wrinkles and Ryan steps into my line of sight. “What do you mean you’re diabetic?”
“I’m diabetic.” I can’t meet his eyes. Can’t stand the wave of sickness crashing through me. “Type 1.”
Ryan’s eyes harden. He’s been my best friend for years. Him pitching. Me catching. Him always depending on me to tell him straight how things are. Me having the guts to tell him what no one else will. But I kept this a secret. I never trusted him to see past the diabetes.
“How long have you known? When did this happen?”
The easy answer would be to lie. To tell him I found out recently, but I’m not lying—not anymore. “Since I was seven.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Ryan yanks down hard on the bill of his cap and turns away from me. Turns away. “Why didn’t you tell any of us?”
I meet Abby’s eyes and there’s no longer anger in them, just confusion...just pity. Out of all the times my blood sugar’s been out of control, I’ve never felt as unstable as I do now.
“Because I didn’t want the look you’re giving me.” I nod toward Abby. “The look she’s giving me.”
I snatch my backpack off the floor, go for the door and Isaiah grabs onto my bicep. “Where are you going?”
“Out. I need some air.”
Isaiah’s eyes are blazing. He’s just as pissed as Ryan. I should care more than I do, but seeing Abby pity me—I’m done. “Abby’s here for the week. If one person in this room gives her a ride back to Louisville, type 1 diabetes or not, I’ll kick their ass.”
Abby
My grandmother took me to church once. She lit a candle, got down on her knees and prayed.
Grams wasn’t a churchgoer, but Dad had been gone longer than normal and when he came back, he was in bed for a few days and I wasn’t allowed to see him. I understand now he was shot, but Grams just told me he was sick.
Sick.
On the first night he was home, he cried out twice in pain. I never knew my father could feel pain. He seemed too big for that. Too strong.
Scared of this monster of an emotion that had been ushered into my safe house, I had placed every stuffed animal I owned in the hallway and position them to face Dad’s room. I then dragged down my covers from my bed and slept outside his room. If Dad couldn’t fend off the boogeyman I was always afraid would sneak in at night and steal me from him, then I’d be strong enough to save him.
I wasn’t strong enough to save him. He’s in prison and there’s nothing I can do. Grams is too old and I can’t stop her from aging. Logan has type 1 diabetes. I don’t even know what that means except it being one more thing I can’t fix.
Everyone but me and Logan are still inside the cabin, and after checking several times, I don’t see any sign of Logan. In the distance there’s a huge red barn and, a little bit farther, I spot corn and some cows. If I breathe in deep enough, I can smell their poop.
Another quick glance to make sure no one from the cabin is watching and I pull out my cell that Isaiah had collected back from Eric last night. Lots of calls, lots of messages, lots of texts, but I only call the one person in Ricky’s organization I can trust.
The phone barely has a chance to ring all the way through once and there’s an answer. “Yeah?”
“It’s me,” I say.
“Jesus, Abby.” It’s weird to hear relief in Linus’s tone. “Where are you? Are you okay?”
I glance around and the deep blue sky with big white fluffy clouds appear to be mocking me with their happiness. “I have no idea where I’m at and other than some possible rope burns on my wrists, I’m fine.”
“Fucking asshole,” Linus growls. “I’m going to eat Eric’s heart for dinner tonight.”
“Tommy okay?” I ask.
“Yeah. He told us what happened and he’s real shook up. Are you free? Can you walk to some place that’s familiar? If not, describe to me where you’re at.”
Linus doesn’t know that Eric let me go and if Eric was the one who tried to put a bullet in me weeks ago, why would he play such an elaborate game? The immediate desire to return to Louisville stalls. “Eric told me Tommy shot me.”
Silence. A long silence. Long enough that my heart beats a bit faster with each passing second.
“Does he have proof?” Linus sounds so cold...too deadly.
“Other than words? No, but we both know that Logan could confirm if it’s true.”
“Let’s get you back first, and then we’ll tackle this. Describe to me where you’re at.”
“Well—” A stinging sensation from my scalp as the phone is jerked from my hand and a few strands of my hair go along with it. “Ow!”
“Abby!” roars Linus. “Talk to me, Abby!”
Isaiah is all brooding over me with his six feet in height and tattoos meant to scare stupid people and he pushes the red button that ends the call.
“Asshole.” I hold out my open palm for my phone.
Isaiah pockets my cell, but instead tosses me a bag of mini powdered donuts. “I’m in agreement with Logan. You need some space from Louisville. At least a few days’ worth.”
I open the bag of donuts with so much force
that the paper tears and I drop to the ground. I shove one mini donut into my mouth and gnaw on the sugar in a really ticked-off way. Stupid Isaiah and Logan always stupidly getting involved.
My cell rings and Isaiah pulls it out just long enough to power it off.
“Linus is worried,” I state.
“That would require Linus to have a soul.”
He’s got me there. I eat another donut, but choose to take a smaller bite this time. Maybe I do need some time to think my options through and it won’t go well with Linus and Ricky up my ass and Tommy possibly trying to stick a knife in my jugular.
Isaiah eases down beside me and now we’re both sitting on the grass, leaning against his parked Mustang. “West brought you some clothes and Rachel said she threw in some other things you might need.”
Rachel. Good God, hearing her name hurts. Seems like weeks ago when I texted with her, but it was only last night. Isaiah should just tie me to the back of his car and drive me down that long and winding gravel road that leads to God knows where. “How is she?”
“Mad at you. Mad at me for not bringing her here to see you.” He raises his knees and rests his arms on them. “If you stop working for Ricky you wouldn’t have to be worrying about bringing problems to Rachel. I know you want to be her friend.”
I do. More than Isaiah could comprehend. Being around Rachel always made me feel normal. “When you started hanging out at Rachel and West’s were you ever amazed at how much food they had? I mean, it was everywhere. Overflowing out of the fridge, out of the pantry, on the tabletops. I swear they even used it for decoration.”
“Still not used to it.”
“I know you’re not all BFFs with her parents, but I liked them. Especially Rachel’s mom. She plays along well that I’m normal even though it’s obvious I’m not private-school material.” The lie I told Rachel’s parents when we first met.
“You make Rachel happy,” he says. “That’s enough for them.”
“Think we’ll ever fit in?” I ask. “If you could wash away the tattoos and I could wash away the muck of being a dealer, do you think we could ever fit in or do you think being a part of the bottom-feeders creates a stench that we can never shake?”