Page 11 of Cueball & Double-Z (Alpha’s Rejects #5)

I’d known Gio since I was twelve. My beautiful Gio, who took the world on his shoulders, grumbling and bitching all the way, and it didn’t bother me one bit.

He hadn’t always been like that. Before our parents were killed, he’d been fun, playful, and smiled a lot.

Since we’d been on our own, I could see the world crushing him a little bit more each day.

He’d grown introverted and angry. He didn’t date, meet with friends, or do anything fun for himself.

It had all revolved around taking care of me.

I loved him for it and was forever grateful.

I wasn’t sure what I’d do without him, but I also wished I could find a way to make him happy, to see him smile again.

He was allowed to have a life outside of me, and I wish he would.

Life had definitely dealt us a shitty hand, and Gio desperately tried his best, but shit kept happening, making his moods worse. I didn’t know what to do about it.

Then there was Cueball, whom we’d run into twice now. Well, three times for Gio. What were the odds in a city like Baltimore? I wondered if there was a reason we kept meeting like that.

Gio just kept getting pissier and pissier at the man, but I understood Gio enough to know he wasn’t really angry at Cueball.

He was humiliated by our situation. Running into Cueball three times was a constant reminder of that.

It was easier to handle when you didn’t know anyone who could see what was happening to you.

I didn’t care because it wasn’t our fault, but Gio took everything personally.

‘Thank you,’ I signed to Cueball, towering above us, and glancing several times at Gio. ‘Food is good.’

He nodded, and while there was no smile on his face, his amber eyes danced with kindness.

Despite what Gio believed, I wasn’t always the smartest, but I’d like to think I read people well.

Cueball had a hardness similar to Gio’s, like how pain sometimes hardened people.

They couldn’t help but wear it like an old shirt they hated, but couldn’t let go of, either.

I already liked Cueball when we first met, but the fact that he volunteered at the shelter told me what a good person he was. If he didn’t care about others or didn’t have empathy, he wouldn’t have been there.

“The food’s been donated from a local restaurant. We’re grateful for any help.”

‘Can I help?’ I asked him. I wanted to volunteer, too. Do something useful.

God, I love how he talked and signed at the same time. It felt so validating and made me feel seen. He included both Gio and me in the conversation, despite Gio frowning and not glancing Cueball’s way. “We can always use volunteers. Do you have a job?”

I shook my head. ‘It’s hard when people can’t talk to you.’

Cueball nodded thoughtfully as Gio ate his food, still trying to ignore us. “I get that. Many people are unwilling to learn something new, like a new language, unless they have to. Some simply can’t, but I’m sure you’ll find something that works for you. ”

‘What do you do?’ I asked him.

“Logistics. I just make sure shipments are accurate and reach their destinations on time. It’s boring, but it pays pretty well.”

I didn’t know why, but the job didn’t seem to fit him, like Cueball was made for greater things. ‘Sounds boring.’ I winked at him to soften my blunt comment.

His face fucking lit up like a dark cloud had been lifted, letting in the sun when he smiled and chuckled. God, he was beautiful. “That’s accurate. It’s boring as hell, but I like boring.”

I laughed back. ‘That’s fair.’

“Well, I have to go and clean up. Then I need to head home before the subway stops running.”

I waved bye, and Gio grunted at him, making me smile and roll my eyes.

I watched Cueball walk off, seemingly unfazed by Gio’s attitude. The huge man was intriguing and gorgeous. I hoped we’d get to see him again. And I definitely wanted to volunteer, but I’d need to find work first. That was a priority.

“Don’t tell me you like him,” Gio said, following my gaze.

‘I do. He’s cute, and he can talk to me. You don’t find him cute?’

He shrugged and took a bite of his chicken casserole. “If you’re into bald linebackers, sure, I guess.”

I huffed a laugh and took a bite of my green bean, corn, and carrot mix. I wasn’t a fan of them when they were soggy, but my body needed them. Gio and I ate way too much fast food.

After our meal, we reluctantly left the shelter. We stepped outside, hit with the icy blast of air, and the snow was still coming down in sheets of white. The flakes were small and fine, like dust, from the plummeting temperature. The ground was a two-inch-thick white blanket.

Gio and I were careful not to slip as we made our way to the car. It was going to be a rough night. It was supposed to be just as cold tomorrow night. Until we got a new place, life wasn’t going to be easy for us.

We got into the car and locked it. Gio ran the engine for a while to warm us up before we had to turn it off and hunker down.

When we were ready to sleep, we climbed into the backseat and covered ourselves with sleeping bags and blankets, keeping our scarves and beanies on, but we didn’t lie down yet.

I looked over at Gio, who stared straight ahead, his jaw clenched so tightly I worried he’d break it.

Then his bottom lip trembled, and he took a shuddering breath.

My heart broke for him. He’d tried so hard the past few years, and he’d been so strong.

It wasn’t the first time I’d seen him get upset like that, but it’d been a long time.

Gio, my sacrificial brother, hated to be vulnerable.

But he needed to let it out, too. To just scream at our situation. It was okay to be upset.

I grabbed his gloved hand in mine under the sleeping bags and rested my head on his shoulder.

A sob escaped him, but he masked it in a cough, making my eyes water.

I hated our situation, but as long as we were together, I knew we’d be okay.

But Gio was having a harder time, and I hated to see him break over it.

God, I wish I could tell him how sorry I was and that I loved him. Not with my hands, but with my words. A few times I tried, but I couldn’t get anything out. My voice just refused to work.

I opened my mouth, forming the words with my lips, forcing sound to come out. Every once in a while, I could get a word out, but it was rare. The way Gio’s face lit up at hearing me made me want to do it more, but my throat… it refused to work like my brain and body refused to cooperate.

Gio finally rested his head on top of mine and squeezed my hand. Yes, I loved him with everything I had. If he’d told me he loved me more than a brother, I would’ve been so happy. But I’d never tell him those things. He was under enough pressure.

I closed my eyes, hit with a memory of that week after the accident.

After that day from hell. A day I’d never forget.

But it wasn’t just from losing our parents, but also how Gio stayed strong and took care of me.

That was when I saw him at his most vulnerable, even though he held it all in.

Despite his grief, he helped me through mine.

My body aches all over from the car accident. I’m bruised across my chest from my seat belt, I have whiplash, and one of my legs broke after it got pinned by Mom’s seat .

I lie in the hospital bed, trying to shut out the accident and the noise in my head. It’s so loud. Mom and Gino’s groans and whimpers echo in my head over and over until they both grow silent and still, holding hands through it all.

It’s all my fault.

I start to cry, eventually becoming inconsolable as Gio climbs into my hospital bed and holds me, careful of all my wires.

“Shh, we’ll get through this, Cole. That’s a promise.”

I opened my mouth to tell him he should hate me instead of holding me.

He doesn’t know exactly what’s happened yet.

As I try to speak, nothing comes out as I spiral away from my grief into something else.

I’m falling, heart racing, nausea… I’m not me, not my old me.

It’s hard to breathe. So hard. So afraid.

I want to run, but I’m paralyzed. Can’t move.

Gio senses something is wrong as I flail at him. He rushes out of my room, calling a nurse. She comes in to check on me. It’s not the first time this has happened. Anxiety attack. She leaves and quickly comes back with a pill and some water.

“Take this.”

I refuse. I don’t want it, but Gio and the nurse convince me to, so I take the pill, put it in my mouth, then drink down the water with shaking hands.

My aching head falls back onto the pillow, still struggling to breathe, but I know the Xanax will kick in soon.

Gio is now sitting in a chair, pulled up to my bed, and holding my hand, his freckled face so full of worry.

I don’t know why I freak out every time I try to talk.

Soon, my body calms down, and my heart steadies. I grow a bit sleepy as my muscles relax.

“Better?” Gio asks.

I squeeze his hand and nod slowly.

He lets me go and rests his forehead on my bed, hunched over. I run my fingers through his silky hair as the tears fill my eyes. As soon as he knows what I’ve done, he’ll walk away from me. He’ll hate me. And I deserve it.

Nothing really fucks with a person than seeing the people you love die in front of you, and there’s nothing you can do about it.

You’re stuck in the backseat, unable to move.

When they finally died, I sobbed and sobbed until I passed out.

Not until the firefighters arrived and began getting me out did I wake up.

Gino had told me to settle down and stop being so loud. “ Cole, settle down, please. It’s dark and I need to focus .” His words were gentle, so I didn’t take him seriously. I didn’t. I was having too much fun, talking to Mom and singing loudly.

It was my fault. All of it.

They rushed me to the hospital. The doctors and police tried to talk to me, ask me questions, but every time I opened my mouth, I felt like I was going to throw up as the fear put me in a literal chokehold.

My hands shook. My heart beat so hard against my chest. When I opened my mouth, nothing came out.

The words were blank in my mind, and I struggled to breathe.

A therapist on staff told me I had selective mutism from the trauma after I told him what had happened, being forced to write it all down. Forced to write my horror. Forced to write my guilt. He said I’d recover with extensive therapy.

But I didn’t want therapy. I never wanted to speak again. At the time, I just wanted to die myself so I could stop all that pain. It’d been so hard to breathe.

After I get out of the hospital, Gio takes good care of me, even if I don’t deserve it.

As I lie in bed, my covers are gently pulled off my head.

I scowl at Gio. His eyes are swollen and red from crying, but they’re dry now.

That’s my fault, too. I hurt him. I ruined our family.

Our parents died because of me. He lost his dad. All my fault.

“Come on. Let’s get some air,” he says.

I shake my head and pull the covers back over my head.

“Cole, we need to get you up and moving. You also need to eat.”

He yanks the blankets off and tosses them onto the floor. I growl at him as he comes to sit next to me, then I roll away from him.

His hand rests on my back, and I flinch him off.

“Come on, Cole…”

When I don’t respond, Gio lifts me off the bed and pulls me against him. I fight him, not wanting to be held. I don’t want him to tell me it’ll be fine. It’ll never be fine. Ever. And I definitely don’t want to hear that he forgives me or tells me I’m not to blame. He wasn’t there. I was .

Instead of getting angry or letting me go, he holds me against him, tight enough that I can’t escape.

He’s always been stronger. He presses his face to my throat, fingers digging into my back.

Soon his body shudders, and wet tears soak my T-shirt.

That makes me settle down because he needs me, and all I’m doing is thinking about myself.

“You’re all I have now, Cole. I’m all you have.”

My face presses into his T-shirt, smelling of laundry detergent and comfort. The tears pull out of me as my fingers cling to his back.

I want to tell him how sorry I am, but I can’t. Not in the way he deserves.

He’s right, though. We’re all we have. Our other parents, his mom and my dad, are gone from our lives. His grandparents were dead, and I never met mine. I think Mom had a brother somewhere, but I never met him, either. She never explained it, but I think she had a falling out with her family.

God… Mom. My poor mom. She struggled to take care of me, but I knew she loved me. She made sure to tell me every day. And Gino had been a father figure to me. More than my biological father ever had been. Now they’re gone, thanks to me.

So, yeah, it’s just Gio and me.

I cry harder as Gio does. It’s the only time I’ve seen him cry, which tells me he needs me to be okay. My pain is getting in the way of his grieving. More guilt courses through me, but I pull away and grab his face.

“I’m sorry,” I mouth the words. It’s almost as painful as talking, and the anxiety tries to choke me again. I need to find a better way to communicate with him, so he doesn’t feel so alone.

Tomorrow. I’ll figure it out tomorrow.

I just need one more day to feel sorry for myself.

I startled awake, my face wet from my dream. I’d been thinking about that day, and when I fell asleep, the memory morphed into a nightmare. I hadn’t had one of those in a while. Probably because of our situation, and feeling out of control.

It was still dark out, so I couldn’t have been sleeping long. The windows were fogged up from the humidity of our heat and breathing, making it hard to see outside.

Despite the cold, Gio and I managed to hold in our body heat with all the layers.

He’s warm, pressed up against me, his arm draped over my side, and his warm breath puffing on my throat.

Being crammed in the back wasn’t exactly comfortable, though.

I slept stretched out on the backseat, while Gio stretched out on the floorboards.

We covered the area with the smaller suitcases, so it was relatively level, but he couldn’t have been comfortable either.

I needed to find work soon. The faster we saved our money, the faster we could find a home.