Page 43 of The Deals We Make

“Iowe you,” I say to Vex at the end of the day.

The words almost choke me on the way out, but I finally feel like I can breathe in the house. It doesn’t feel like all the contents are closing in on me.

“You don’t owe me shit, Calista.” Vex climbs the porch steps after dumping the last pile of papers into the skip.

I huff. That isn’t the world I live in. Everything is a transaction. A deal.

It’s the only way I’ve survived, keeping a balance sheet of my life.

“No. Seriously. I would never have got this done on my own. So, if you ever need a favor…”

Vex looks at me like I grew two heads. “AndI’mserious. I didn’t do it so you could owe me a fucking favor, Cal. I did it because your mom needed help. I did it because she was a good neighbor for a long time. I did it because she welcomed us to the neighborhood when some of the others worried about the new Black family on the block. I did it because there is obviously something going on in her life.”

I wince a little as his words hit me. It’s true. Mom was always a great woman. As a teacher, she encouraged the celebration of mixed abilities, and of neurodivergence, and of who you are as a human being.

As soon as Ti and his family moved next door, she tried to organize the usual street delivery of welcome meals, but only two other people joined her.

The only person she seemingly didn’t have faith in was me.

“I’m sorry,” I say, realizing I thought of Vex as Ti. Or Ti as Vex. They’re becoming the same.

Vex’s dark eyes meet mine. “For what?”

The question hangs between us.

For what?

I know what he’s asking. And I can’t tell him.

I shrug.

“Sorry means shit if you can’t actually articulate what you’re sorry for. And what was that whole thing when my brothers arrived? Why treat ‘em like shit when they showed up for you? You probably should have said sorry to them too. But don’t worry, I’ll cover it like I always do.”

Those words infuriate me. “Like you always do. Tell me what you ever covered for me?”

Vex steps into my space. “I covered your fucking ass. I stopped you from getting killed.”

My mouth drops wide open, and rage rattles through me faster than a runaway train. “So, the men who showed up in cuts and stood right there in the kitchen all those years ago, holding a knife to Mom’s throat, groping my fucking chest, telling me they’d kill me if they ever saw me again…that was just my imagination, was it?”

Traitorous tears roll down my cheeks, and I swipe them away.

“They what?” Vex’s voice is so low I can barely make out what he’s saying, but there is no mistaking the tone.

“You told them who I was. You were the only person who knew what I was going to do. You told me you went to them to protect me, but what you did was almost get me killed. You think I wanted to stay away? I’ve been confused this whole time, vacillating between wondering if you didn’t know or thinking you knew and just couldn’t stomach witnessing what they did.”

Frustration and fear spill over. But so does the realization that one of the best things about Vex was that he was always so easy to talk to and impossible to lie to.

Revealing the truth feels cathartic, but it’s like a dam that burst. The speed of feeling coursing through me is unbearable. I feel light-headed. Unsteady.

It’s made worse when I realize the potential consequences. They said they’d kill him if I ever told him or if he found out. And if they’d kill him, when he is useful to them, they won’t think twice about me.

Oh, God. Or mom.

But…what if it wasalla lie. What if they never intended to hurt him at all? The not knowing is killing me.

When I finally look at Vex, he looks like he’s been poleaxed. “Sit down, and tell me everything from the beginning,” he says.

“I’ve said enough. And if you’re here to make excuses for them, don’t bother. They told me they would kill you if I tried to tell you. You didn’t realize you’d signed both our death sentences. That if you attempted to leave the club, they’d kill you too. And I knew you would if I told you. So, I didn’t. I left.”