Page 39 of Three Minutes
I laugh under my breath. “And she’s in that hospital bed because of me too, Blake.”
He shrugs his shoulders, sighing lightly. “Things happen. She chose to go with you. Let’s just be thankful she is alive and going to be okay at the end of this.” I turn to face him, ready to argue my point, but I catch myself. I’m trying to do better and be better. So I seal my lips and stare back at her.
“How did you manage it?” Blake suddenly asks.
“What do you mean?” I reply.
“Carrying her all that distance, especially with your own injuries?”
I crack my neck and shake my head. “Honestly, I don’t know. It felt like I might break down at any moment, but I knew I had to push through for her…to save her,” I confess.
Blake shoots me a sharp look, a sly grin creeping across his face. “You can deny it all you want, but that’s love right there. You love her,” he states, not as a question but as a certainty. I turn to him, a rush of excuses flooding my mind. I bite my tongue, too exhausted to engage in a back-and-forth with him.
“How far away are they?” I ask Blake.
“Uh, around an hour. Beck is on the way here too, so I’m going to stick around,” he responds.
I nod my head. “Alright, well, I need to use your phone to get an Uber. I need to check on Mango, considering I haven’t been there since my meltdown.”
Blake turns in my direction. “Are you not going to wait for them to get here—”
I cut him off. “Fuck no. Do you think either of them wants to see me right now? Her aunt and I have never met, and we’re not meeting here. I’ll come back tonight when they’re not here.”
Blake crosses his arms, assessing me up and down. “Whatever, Ez, but you look like shit. Are you not going to let a doctor checkyou out first?” he presses. I rub my jaw in frustration.
“No, I made that clear in the ambulance. I’m fine. I got a little banged up from the fall, and my shoulder is most likely torn. They did redress my injuries from the bar. And let’s just say they looked horrified, but didn’t ask questions.” Blake shakes his head, throwing his hands up. He then reaches into his pocket and hands me his phone to order an Uber.
My eyes burn as the Uber driver passes by where Raina and I wrecked. You can see a black skid mark along the railing where we collided with it, as well as small fragments from my bike. While I was waiting on an Uber, I called the only tow service around and had them pick up my bike and drop it off at the shop in town. I’ll drop the keys off either later today or tomorrow. So much has happened in the last couple of days, I can’t even comprehend it all. I haven’t had a chance to sit down and think about the information I discovered yesterday. Now Raina is in the hospital. This is exactly why I needed to keep her away. I’m fucking toxic.
The Uber driver pulls halfway down my driveway and lets me out. Everything looks normal from the outside, but as I approach the front door, I realize it is cracked open.Fuck.So I did leave the door open. All I can think about is Mango and if she’s okay. She must be terrified. I storm in through the door, and my eyes catch something on the kitchen counter. My heart skips a beat as I stare at the half-empty bottle of bourbon, purposely displayed for my arrival. I creep around the counter, quietly open a drawer, grab a small knife, and slide it into the back of my pants. I take deep breaths, preparing for what’s next. I turn to head to the living room, unsure of where he’s hiding. I look down at the tile. There lies my phone, face down against the trim.
I quickly look over my shoulder before crouching down and grabbing it. I tap the screen, pleased to see it’s not dead. I quickly text Blake.
Me: 911. My house. He’s here.
I slide my phone into the pocket of my jeans, feeling shivers run across my body. The thought lingers in the back of my mind: someone is going to die.
I slowly creep around the corner, looking into the living room. I freeze, as goosebumps travel up my arms and down my neck. I flare my nostrils in distaste. “Joseph,” I growl. He sits on the couch in the dim light, holding a glass of bourbon while twirling something in his hand. I look closely, and my eyes widen.My knife.My stomach drops. I remember looking for it after the fire, wondering what had happened to it. This whole time, he’s had it. Which stirs up more questions I can’t comprehend.
He smirks at me. “It’s so good to see you, Ezra. How long has it been?” I glare at him with rage in my eyes. He laughs obnoxiously. “If I do recall, the last time was when you drove this very knife into my side and kicked me out of my home.” His expression goes blank as he twirls it around his fingers. “Did you know this knife was supposed to be mine? My father was supposed to give it to me, yet somehow it ended up in Jesse’s hands, then yours.” He takes a generous swig from the bourbon as he watches the blade. “Jesse hated our father for everything he was and wasn’t. I was the only one who looked up to him and admired him.” He brings his hand up to his face, tapping his temple. “Apparently, my mother didn’t agree. She always told me I’d be just like him. A raging alcoholic…guess she was right.”
I step forward. “What are you doing here? What do you want?” I demand.
He straightens his posture, widening his shoulders as he glares at me. “I made a promise, didn’t I? That we’d see each otheragain?”
I scoff. “What’s your point…why after all this time?”
He gives me an evil grin. “I needed you to self-destruct first.” He guzzles the rest of the bourbon, throwing the glass onto the floor. I glimpse Mango high-tailing it to my bedroom. Thank God she’s okay. “I see you didn’t take the news too well.” I glare back at him, fist clenched at my sides. I know exactly what he’s referring to. “I have been so eager to tell you the little backstory on how my big brother fucked your whore of a mother.” I growl, stepping forward. “Ah, ah, ah.” He waves the bushcraft in front of him, motioning for me to step back. I can feel the knife I grabbed pressed against me. Now isn’t the time, I need to stall. I do as he wishes, taking a few steps back. He grins at my obedience.
So many years I haven’t seen him, yet he looks almost the same, aside from mild aging and gray streaking his hair. He still keeps his face shaved like he always did. I wonder how someone who drinks their life away is able to still hold youth as he does. Working in the bar, I’ve watched people age in under two years from drinking every single weekend.
“I had my suspicions about you when you were around six. Certain things you did reminded me of him. Your mannerisms, your eyes, your smile. I sat with it for a long time, thinking I was going crazy, until I began spiraling from my own mind. I could tell your mother had her suspicions, as well. Or maybe she already knew. You know, I’ve had an issue with alcohol for a long time. It started about six months before I met your mother and gradually, over the years, consumed me. I was angry all the time, disappearing for days, drinking my life away.” He laughs. “Guess my mother was right…I was exactly like my father. Then there was the hero, Jesse, who worked hard, lived the simple life, and was always a fucking gentleman. He pissed gold in my mother and father’s eyes. While I was called the troubled teenager whohad no self-control,” he seethes.
“Get to your fucking point!” I shout, my hatred boiling over.
He smirks slightly at my demand, then leans back, settling into a more casual position. “As you wish. It was on your thirteenth birthday that I finally discovered you weren’t mine for sure. You’ve clearly inherited your terrible hiding skills from your mother. Want to take a wild guess where I stumbled upon it?” He pauses, letting the question hang in the air, but I just give him a withering glare. “Fine. It was tucked under her side of the mattress. I’ll never forget the expression on her face when I barged into the bathroom. I had already slipped the envelope into my pocket, and she could see the realization in my eyes. And you know what I saw when I looked at her?” He leans in closer, his grin turning mischievous. “Fear.”
I dig my nails into the palms of my hands, desperately trying to stay composed. He casually picks at his fingertips, unfazed. “Anyway, you know how the rest goes. I had it all planned out to strangle her in the bath she was drawing, but then Jesse Jr. swooped in and saved the day.” I hiss at his remark. “Now, let’s fast forward to your sixteenth birthday, shall we?” My heart races. My sixteenth birthday.What is he about to reveal?“I had everything mapped out, three years of planning. I fully intended to take you and your mother out. But, as luck would have it, things turned out differently. I spent the entire day watching the house. I saw you leave with those twins of yours and kept an eye on your mother while you were gone. I slipped in through your bedroom window around 9:30 that night, found my knife, and waited. I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist coming back to your precious mommy for long.” He clears his throat, and my heart feels like it’s about to burst. But I need to know. I have to hear the words spill from his lips.
