Deck scooted his hips away from mine…but only far enough that he could bend over and lay his head in my lap.
“I’m scared, Cori.” He whispered the words into my thighs as his arm stretched out to wrap around my waist.
My breath lodged in my throat. But as his fingers dug into my skin, a calmness washed over me.
Dislodging his ponytail, I carded my fingers through his long black hair. The strands crackled with the gel he used to tame them. I pushed through the sticky locks, pulling them apart until they cascaded over my lap. Running my hands down to his neck, I grazed my fingertips lightly across the bottom of his hairline. I pressed in harder, massaging his scalp as I smoothed my palms over his crown. Petting him.
“I’m sorry you’re overwhelmed, Deck. I’m here.”
He didn’t reply, just squeezed me tighter.
I reveled in the moment, even as its rawness disturbed me.
Deck surprised me again by falling asleep. I stayed on the couch with his head on my thighs until I heard his parents pull into the driveway.
I knew he would regret the moment in the morning. He would decide that he had been weak. I wondered how he would retaliate, how he would hurt me to prove he did not need me. Or deserve me. How much would he punish us both?
Chapter twelve
Deck
PRESENT DAY
Igot back to my house intending to go right to sleep. Still in my clothes, I lay down, but my mind wouldn’t rest. Around ten a.m., I admitted defeat and dragged myself into the kitchen. Coffee and leftover adrenaline could get me through until that evening.
In my living room, I stared at the space on the couch where Cori had sat. My new reality settled in.
After all my efforts to keep my distance, with one ring of a doorbell, she was back in my life.
Dios, she’d been amazing going after her brother. Even wide-eyed in that shitty house, terrified and stepping around needles, she hadn’t allowed the fear to take hold.
Her keeping steady wasn’t surprising. She wasn’t loud or rowdy when we were kids, but she’d always been tough, not to mention strategic about planning her future. She’d gotten a decent education in our armpit of a public school, utilized every opportunity at the Center, and stayed out of trouble without making herself a target.
At least not until Chi-chi found her.
Unwanted, a picture came to my mind. That night, she’d been fighting back. I shook the image away. I had to stay focused on the present.
On the here and now, where I needed to keep Cori at arm’s length.
I had held myself together while we searched for Johnny. But once the rush of getting him out of that house wore off, and she’d asked me to stay with her at the hospital, I hadn’t known how to behave. I’d barely talked. Paced a hole into the floor. Memorized the contents of the vending machines. Been apendejoabout exchanging numbers. Anything to avoid the way she drew me in like a magnet.
After tying my boots, I went outside to finish planting the maple, a bizarre task considering the previous twenty-four hours. I took another shower afterward, coming out to find two texts from Cori letting me know I’d need to pretend to be her husband at the hospital to visit Johnny.
ME:Got it. I’m your husband.
Mierda.
I knew interacting with her brother would eventually bring Cori back into my life. But even with that, I wouldn’t have done anything differently. I’d been helpless with Eliazar. I couldn’t stand by and do nothing while Johnny went down the same road.
Still, I needed to handle myself better than I had in that waiting room.
My daily emotional cocktail of anger, shame, and regret assaulted my senses, making my blood run hot. Thanks to a year’s worth of mostly-crap court-ordered therapy, I knew I needed to talk this whole situation out with someone or risk putting my fist through a wall.
Usually, discussing things with my parents or my brother Emilio worked fine. They’d never wavered in their support, even while I was inside. But on this topic, my family was not an option.
Mamá and Pop knew I’d been back in touch with Johnny. They were almost as worried about him as I was and had been hounding me for months to reach out to Cori. So had Emilio. They warned me she had thrown up a wall between herself and the neighborhood after her mom died, but I hadn’t realized the contact had been completely nonexistent until yesterday.
“Cori doesn’t blame you or Johnny for what happened to her,” Mamá said to me only a month ago. “Why would she? That’s why she wrote the statement for the court.”
