Page 87 of The Bronze Garza

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Threw me, too.” Tripp sighs. “Called Trent and gave him a heads-up, so we should have something out of them in about an hour.”

Tugging on a thin string of strength, I manage to open my eyes, finding a still blue sky and drifting white clouds. I’m laying on one of the lounge chairs in the courtyard, Tripp and Torin standing on either side of it, towering over me.

I’ve no clue what happened. The last thing I remember was sitting on a bench under a tree.

As both men stare down at me, the only thing I can think to say is, “I’m a mess. I’m sorry.”

I can’t look at Torin. His green gaze burn with fury and reproach, and I can’t bear it.

“How you feeling?” Tripp asks me.

“I don’t know.” Of its own volition, a lone tear drips down my cheek. “I don’t know.” I roll over onto my side, my back to Torin, and pull my knees up to my chest. “I just want to die now. I’m so…tired.”

Tripp drops to his haunches in front of me and gently brushes wisps of flyaway hair from my face. “Mom’s angry ‘cause she’s scared, but none of what happened is your fault, okay? We’re working on getting things back to where you can leave your house without the threat of someone coming after you. But in the meantime, you gotta work with us, alright?”

My nod is feeble.

“Don’t give up on life just yet,” he says, his thumb sweeping my cheek. “Might not feel like it now, but you matter. Your life matters. And youareworth it.”

“I just don’t know what I did...to deserve—”

“Nothing,” he cuts me off. “There’s nothing you could’ve possibly done to deserve any of the shit that’s happened to you. Life’s just a bipolar bitch. Amazing some days, complete shit on others. The trick is to learn how to not let her break us. To take her punches and roll with ‘em.”

I inhale sharply, exhale shakily. “Thanks. You’re nice. I see why you’re the favorite son.”

He chuckles and straightens up. “Chin up. We got you, yeah?”

Another feeble nod. “Okay.”

His golden eyes flicks across me to his brother. “Gonna check with the team.”

A long stretch of silence lingers after he leaves.

On a fortified breath, I roll over to my other side to face Torin.

He’s now manspreading on the other lounge chair, a dish with a banana and an apple balanced impressively on his right knee. Yup. He’s so formidable that even fruits on a dish obey him.

His eyes are on me, and they aren’t pleased.

“Why can’t you be nice like Tripp?” I ask.

With a snort, he shifts his gaze to the house, then back to me. “That’s what you want? For me to be nice?”

Blinking up to the sky, I think about it. Then decide, “No. It wouldn’t suit you. But...”

“But?”

“I don’t want you to be mad at me.”

“I’m mad at you,” he says bluntly, adding, “And now Monica’s mad at me.”

I sigh. “I understand.”

He takes the plate and places it before me. “Eat something.”

Even though I have no appetite and am mildly nauseous, I sit up and pick up the banana. Better not to rankle the king right now.