Page 17

CHAPTER 17

M arcus leans against a brick wall, catching his breath. “Who were they, Mei?” His left eye is swelling, blood trickling from his eyebrow.

How am I supposed to answer that? If I do everything ends here. If I don’t, everything ends anyway. How’s he supposed to trust me after this? I glance up the street, down, across. Nick may be out of town, but he has his guys watching me. I clench my jaw and swallow the metal taste coming from anger and my bleeding heart. He’s ruined everything.

“I’m so sorry, Marcus. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

He growls in frustration and pushes away from the wall, hunched over, limping toward his building. I follow him, not sure I should. Maybe I should just go home and lock myself in my room. Or run in the opposite direction. When I turn the corner, I see his bags. At least I can use them as an excuse to follow him into his building. But when I pick them up, he stops.

“Why are you protecting them?”

“I’m not, I’m…” Protecting myself? My family? Not Ma rcus.

“Are they your friends?”

“No.” My voice rises, desperation pushing it out of me.

He turns to me, clutching his ribs. “Then tell me who they are, because I’m sorta confused. Maybe I have a concussion from being slammed against concrete.” His eyes are clouded with anger, pain, exhaustion. “I just got jumped by someone you know. Think we’re past the point of secrets, don’t you?” Blood drips into his eye and he swipes at it, swearing.

When I don’t answer, he swears at the cement before grabbing his bags from me and limping around the corner. I close my eyes, the darkness in the dingy alley settles inside me, but I don’t want any of it. I want to tell Marcus everything. He deserves to know.

I turn the corner and he’s punching in the code to his building. When it beeps, I pull the door open for him. He said his dad’s gone, but if he happens to be home, this night will get much, much worse.

Marcus grips the railing and hauls himself slowly up the two flights of stairs. I wish I’d never brought him into my world. That I’d never gone to his game. That this building had an elevator. That dealing with Nick was as easy as calling the police. But nothing’s easy about this. Ending it is the hardest by far. But this has to be the end of us.

When we finally reach his apartment, Marcus’s hands tremble on the doorknob, and he throws the door open, his anger like a heat wave as he drops his bags on the floor.

I follow him inside, pulling out a bar stool for him. He eases onto it, then talks to his hands pressed against the countertop. “Who were they?” His voice is raspy, his eye swollen, cheekbone purple and splotchy.

I pull a bag of peas from the neat stack in the freezer, and he closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and lets it out with a string of swear words.

“What can I do? How can I help you? ”

“There’s a first aid kit in the hallway closet.”

I drop the peas on the counter and dash to the hallway, bracing myself for the questions that will build a barrier between us now that the world is still and the truth is all over his bruised face.

Opening the closet door, I snatch the red box before hurrying back to him, flipping it open on the counter. He pulls it toward him and rummages until he finds a roll of medical tape. When he lifts the hem of his shirt to chest level, he hisses through gritted teeth and I step to him, fingers trembling as I help him pull his shirt over his head. He catches my eye as it comes off but drops them to his swollen torso and fumbles with the end of the tape.

He rips off a piece with his teeth, then sets down the roll and spreads the tape over a spot below his chest while I watch and feel helpless. He rips off a few more pieces and sticks them on the same spot before I take the tape from him, my fingers stiff and shaky.

Goosebumps rise along his skin as he watches my fingers smooth the tape, then closes his eyes and exhales, long and heavy. When he looks at me again, I drop my focus to the final piece of tape before handing him the bag of peas.

He hesitates, then takes it from me and holds it over his eye while I grab a dish cloth, soak it, then step in front of him and dab blood off his eyebrow and lip. He inhales sharply and tenses.

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper. “For everything.” My voice is uneven, and I should have stayed quiet. Any word I say is one more piece of myself I have to leave with Marcus.

“All I gotta do is call in an anonymous tip. Those guys’ll leave us alone.”

I step to the sink, rinsing the cloth. He’s right. If the cops know, Xander and Holden will leave us alone because the Zhangs will be on the other side of the ocean. Twenty minutes ago, I wasn’t going to end up like Mama. I chose Marcus and was going to tell him everything tonight. But now…I’d rather become Mama than do this to him. There can’t be anymore us. If there is, this will keep happening. I’m being watched. I never thought Nick would go this far, but I don’t know him anymore.

“They would have never done this to you, if it weren’t for me.” Clenching the cloth in my fist, I close my eyes. I let myself believe and hope and wish that Marcus and I could be real. That Nick would find something better to do than manipulate me and my family. I thought I was smart enough to keep my dream life from my real life.

I turn back to him but can’t meet his eyes as I dab at his eyebrow that was perfectly fine before we met. I wish I could wash away my bleeding heart so easily. “We can’t see each other anymore, Marcus.” The words are raw, soaked in the tears and blood they’ve been drowning in.

His eyes fly open and he grabs my hand. “What did you say?”

Tears blur my vision. “We’re too different. I never meant for you to see my world.”

He shakes his head, body rigid. “This isn’t about where we come from, Mei. This is about everything you’re not telling me.”

“I won’t let you get hurt again.”

“No more excuses, no more lies, no more secrets. Who is Face Eater and why are his guys after me?”

I press my lips together, dab at his eyebrow.

“The least you could do is tell me why you’re protecting him. I thought it was you and me, and that you—”

“It is—was,” I say to my hands, “but we can’t.”

“That doesn’t even make sense.” He shoves his fingers through his hair, grimacing and swearing.

“I’m not safe, Marcus.”

He swears at the floor, then looks at me. “I don’t want safe— ”

“Everyone wants to feel safe. Not everyone gets the luxury, but you do. You can have it all—everything you want.”

He stands, tipping the stool backwards, and grabs the counter with one hand, his ribs with the other. “Stop treating me like I’m some golden kid who gets everything he wants. I don’t. Look at my life—my mom left because she didn’t want me. My dad’s never gotten over it, and drilled the fear of women into me. I’m terrified of doing the same thing to my dad, so I’ll be here indefinitely. I turned down my full-ride to Stanford because my dad needs me here. But the worst part is, there’s a girl I want but can’t have and I don’t know why, so no, Mei, I don’t get everything I want.” He grips the counter, his eyes pulling back from me, like he’s emptied himself, his heavy, secret pain hanging between us.

My vision of his shiny, perfect world dims, the shadows in its corners coming out in the shadows under his eyes I thought were from all our late nights, but now…

We’ve both been running from our real lives, but they’ve detoured, cut us off, and are coming right at us. But his world would still be here, in this country. His dad would understand if he just talked to him about Stanford. I heard him celebrating the night Marcus got the offer. And there’s no way his mom left because she didn’t want him. There had to be another reason. And if she were here, she wouldn’t hold him hostage with secrets that could ruin them all. He could figure it all out. He’s Marcus, and no matter what he says, he’ll get everything he wants.

“You do have it all. And you could have anything you want.” My words are hot and sharp. “I’d take even a fraction of your life.”

He looks at me, then shakes his head, his eyes holding me in place. “You obviously have no clue what I want because, right now, I want you to be honest and I can’t even get that much.” He swallows like the words are burning his throat as much as they’re burning my chest. “And I want you and this thing between us,” he blurts, “but I can’t stop you from protecting Face Eater. So maybe he’s what you want.”

I shake my head, swallowing tears, blinking. “He’s not.”

“Then tell me you never wanted me. That I imagined it all. That it was all some kinda sick game and didn’t really mean anything to you. Tell me. Go.”

I talk to my hands. “I chose what I wanted, and look what happened.”

When I meet his eyes, he holds my gaze before staring into the dark living room. I reach for his face again, but he jerks back, yanking the cloth from my hands and flinging it at the sink. “Why are you letting him do this to us?”

I shake my head and want to tell him I have no choice, but he goes on.

“Because I honestly thought we had something, Mei. I let myself think I was your boyfriend, crazy enough.” He takes a shallow breath, then grimaces, frustrated.

My thoughts grind to a stop as the word breezes through my overheated, aching head.

Boyfriend.

“Maybe it’s my fault, though.” He throws his hand out. “I assumed things and haven’t been honest enough about how I feel about you.”

I swipe at a tear, and he grabs my hand, his eyes reaching so far inside me they scatter my resolve. Turning, I step around the counter to the sink, yank on the faucet, and watch water flow down the drain, wishing my reality could flow with it. But as much as it hurts Marcus, and as much as it will kill me, this has to end. “I have to let you go,” I say to the draining water.

I wring out the cloth, cursing myself until Marcus’s chest warms my back. I hold my breath as his hands smooth up my arms, his fingers playing inside my sleeves before moving to the nape of my neck .

“I don’t believe you,” he breathes, starting a fire on my skin that flares over me, and when he presses closer, I exhale, gripping the edge of the counter with both hands. “You’re saying one thing, but your eyes are telling me something completely different.”

I tremble as he sweeps my hair over my shoulder, all thoughts of goodbye burning to ash in the heat between us. “You do have a choice. We could figure this all out together. I’m not running, and you don’t have to either.”

His finger traces my tattoo, his other hand eases down my arm, and I close my eyes as his fingers slip between mine.

“Say what your eyes are telling me,” he whispers, his voice rumbling through me. “That we’re not over.” His words reach around me, turn me toward him.

His gaze moves from my eyes to my lips then back again, carrying a silent question.

I nod, not taking my eyes off him as one trembling hand moves to the back of my head. He leans in, hovering over me, and when his lips find mine, heat sizzles down my body like I’m being filled with warm water. Marcus grips the back of my shirt, his lips coaxing me closer until I’m on tiptoe.

His hands move to my waist, my hips, his fingertips urging me closer until I wrap my arms around his neck and press my chest to his. He grimaces and I pull back, but he tugs me to him again. I grip the counter and lift myself onto it so he doesn’t have to bend over so far, and he steps into me, his teeth grazing my bottom lip. I gasp, knotting my fingers in his hair before sliding them down his neck.

“ I’m so sorry ,” I say with my eyes, and we hold each other’s gaze, his palm cupping the back of my head as his other hand grips my shirt along my waist. “For everything.”

“Does this mean we’re not over?” he asks, his breath warm and ragged as he lowers his mouth to mine. “That’s kinda the message I’m getting, but I need to hear it,” he whispers against my lips, pulling back to look into my eyes while his hands circle my neck, tilt my head back, his thumbs running over my jaw.

“We’re not over,” I murmur, circling his wrists with my hands. If Marcus is right and I have a choice, this is it. He’s it. We can figure the rest out together.

He lowers his forehead to mine, his lips so close I can feel their pulse. He curses through a groan before his lips crash into mine again, unlocking three words I’ve kept sacred and nurtured since the night I met him. I close my eyes to keep them hidden, but this close, he’ll feel them in my heartbeat:

Wǒ ài nǐ.

I love you.