Page 27 of Worse Fates

“How many times do we need to hear about this?” Summer groans.

Kai playfully flips Summer off. “But I’m glad you’re not getting involved with another man who just wants to hurt you.”

“You know I’ve never had a boyfriend, I don’t care about that stuff.” I don't wanna talk about Lucero, but Kai can’t help but push.

Sometimes, when I was bruised and beaten, and refusing to cry but needing help, I’d go to Apollo. He didn’t ask questions like the others, just gave me a place to crash until I could pick myself back up.

Suddenly my skin is too itchy. Their eyes on me are too exposing. ‘Don’t look at me,’ I want to scream. Stop trying to peel back layers and see the bloody wounds inside. Lucero was like that, too. He wanted to reach into my chest and take.

In the lull, Kai and Luuk talk about a client Luuk is working on, Summer fiddling with her phone, and I’m grateful for the breather.

“You are who Lucero wants, lad,” Apollo says, a strip of moonlight over his face, speaking so quietly no one else hears.

There’s no point asking how he knows. “Why would he?”

He grins wide. “Because you’re cute and funny, and you’ve got a cracking arse—”

“Please stop,” I groan. Pulling my legs up, I balance my cup on my knee. “...Will he hurt me, Apollo?”

His face becomes blank, lost somewhere I can’t follow, then he shakes himself out of it and asks, “What did you say, again?”

“Nothing,” I chuckle. But it’s forced and I tug Lucero’s coat closer.

Apollo lays his palm on my head and runs his fingers through my curls. “Want another cuppa?”

I shake my head, leaning into Apollo like it’s a lifeline. His isn’t the touch I want, and no matter how hard I tug on Lucero’s coat, his warmth vanished four days ago.

“Shit, Golden, are you okay?” Kai asks softly, a comforting hand resting on my shoulder.

“What?” I mumble.

“You’re crying,” Luuk tells me gently. “That guy you met, what happened? Did he hurt you?”

Scrubbing tears away with my sleeve, I mutter,“Nothing.” Then hand my cuppa to the first pair of hands that take it and rush into the bathroom.

The mirror cools my heated cheeks as I press my face into the cold surface. I’m not a crier, but damn, lately it’s all I do.

What has Lucero done to me? The bellend.

The door creaks open, and Kai slips in. “Hey.”

I grunt back a greeting.

Turning the rusty taps, there's a wheeze before cold water rushes into my cupped palms. Kai watches me, propped up against the door, his hair back in place to cover his scars and hands me a towel once I'm done.

Drying myself off, then tossing the towel into the sink, I slump against the wall opposite Kai covered in 90’s British punk band posters.

Through the door, either theSex PistolsorThe Clashplays, I always getGod Save the QueenandLondon’s Burningmixed up. But if I ever asked Apollo he’d rip me a new one.

“What was the guy's name?”

“Lucero.” I breathe, hating the longing in my voice. “You’ve been saying you're destined for a one true love since I met you in school. How does it make you feel?”

Kai’s gaze is assessing. “Like I’ve got a person out there who’ll love me no matter what. It's comforting. What about you??”

The distant ache of long healed bruises and broken bones hits me hard. The coldness of a hospital room, a kind nurse telling me I can talk if I want to. Being so fucking angry at my own weakness and directing it at her, not…who deserved it.

My fingers itch for my phone, missing Jace’s voice like a missing limb.