Page 101 of Detour

T imes passes in a blur of engines roaring, voices booming, and doors slamming. The general consensus is the boys are pissed. I was, too. Seeing Joe’s face at my door tonight had me shaking— with suspicion and with fear. I formed it all into one easy outlet though—anger. I welcomed its sharp claws digging in, knowing I would need it if Joe thought he was getting past my door. Judging by the way he was pushing to get in, it might’ve even been what saved me had he succeeded.

After Coty showed up, essentially saving me—or Joe, we’ll never really know now—all that rage morphed into disbelief. Disbelief in Joe’s audacity to show up at my door at all. Disbelief in Coty for riding up on a white horse disguised as a black street bike to save the day. Disbelief that I had let everything get so far out of hand.

Where did it all go wrong?

When had it ever been right?

Truthfully, my time with the boy next door came as close to normal as I’ve ever experienced. With Coty comes Beckett and Marc, a trifecta I never could’ve anticipated. Even though they’re not my family, they are a family, one that defends what’s important, what they love most. For the briefest of moments that included me. Until I took myself out of the equation for being the biggest problem.

Returning to Coty’s room, the disbelief quickly dissolved into sadness. And longing. The constant ache from the past week sparked back to life bringing along its close friend misery. The torturous combo making my chest sting from their cruel ways. The trickery they use with lies of not being good enough, that I’ll never be good enough.

A knock at the door has me sitting up, the blanket gripped tightly between my fingers. The door cracks open as Coty’s shadow falls over the beam of light cutting through the room.

“I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t.”

With a nod, he steps inside, bringing a glass of water. He turns to me after setting it on the nightstand. “I just wanted to check to see how you’re feeling. And if you needed anything else?”

Where do I start?

“Thanks. For the water. And earlier. I’m sorry you had to deal with that.”

Coty sits on the edge of the bed, gazing into my eyes.

“You didn’t do anything wrong. There’s nothing to be sorry for. What he did was his mistake. Not yours.” He sounds so sure and I want to believe him, but a part of me wonders. Wonders if I did bring this on somehow. “I’m the one that’s sorry. For this whole week.” His voice catches and he drops his face, hiding it from view.

I shake my head. “No, I’m the one that pushed you away. I’m the one that’s been fucking things up from day one.”

His stare finds mine again. Eyebrows pinched, he asks, “What do you mean? You haven’t fucked anything up.”

“Ever since I moved in next door you’ve been dealing with my shit. My mere existence brings on a certain amount of…hassle, for everyone. Trouble follows me, affecting anyone stupid enough to get in the way. My problems aren’t yours, Coty, and that’s not fair to assume otherwise.”

“First of all, that’s not true. Trouble doesn’t follow you. You’ve encountered some awful people in your life that think you’re worthy enough to go after. That’s not your fault, it’s theirs. And second, your problems are mine. We’re a team. Whether you admit it or not, you belong with us.”

Scowling, I turn away. “I never asked for that.”

“You didn’t have to. Give me your worst, babe.” I scoff at his words we’ve thrown around in less serious times. “I got you. Today. Tomorrow. Forever. It doesn’t matter. I’m not going anywhere.”

I close my eyes to whisper, “How can I be sure?”

I feel the bed move.

“‘Cause that’s what family does. They stick it out. They laugh, they cry, they bleed for each other, but they don’t walk away because things get tough sometimes.” I finally look as he rises to his feet. “You should get some sleep. I’ll be in the living room, if you need me.”

My hand shoots out to grab his, stopping him mid-step. “Will you,” I pause, swallowing my nerves, “will you stay with me?”

The corner of his mouth quirks. “Always.”

I make room for him on the bed while he undresses, leaving his shorts on. Closing the door, he joins me, wrapping an arm around my middle from behind. He doesn’t pull me to him though. I yearn for his touch, for his peace, so I slide closer until our bodies are molded to one another. Coty takes a deep inhale, relaxing around me, his limbs heavy on my torso. The weight, the warmth, the knowledge that Coty intends to stick it out with me even though I’m a walking disaster—it all settles over me, silencing the doubts stirring beneath.

“Sleep, babe. We’ll figure everything out in the morning.”

His words play on a continuous loop until my eyelids finally grow heavy.

* * *

I wake with a dry mouth and pressure behind my eyes. The previous night rushes back to me. The shots with Drew’s friend, Coty, Joe. Ugh. Life may very well be sucking me dry—although the shots didn’t help matters in that department.