Page 95 of Diesel's Perseverance
Snuggled into thepillow, Myla cracked open her eyes; sunlight poured in through the windows. Bolting upright in the bed, she glanced at the green numbers on the nightstand clock: 11:45 a.m.
She couldn’t believe she’d slept that long.Is Diesel still conked out?Flicking her gaze to the couch, she saw him sitting on the sofa, his head buried in his hands, elbows resting on his knees. Myla thought he was napping at first, but then he glanced up.
“You’re awake,” he said, straightening himself.
“Just now. I can’t believe how late I slept. I didn’t even hear you come in last night. I was so tired.”
“A long ride in the heat will do that.”
“Sort of like a day at the beach.”
“Yeah.”
Myla stood up, squirming a bit. “I have to go to the bathroom,” she said, hurrying away.
After she’d cleaned up, she walked over to the couch and sat beside him.
“How much did you win last night?”
“A grand,” he replied in a flat, monotone voice.
She tilted her head slightly, studying him. A forlorn gaze replaced the brightness in his blue eyes. His face was drawn and tired even in the sunlight, and stubble covered it.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
He didn’t answer.
“Diesel, I know something’s wrong. You look so glum and… I don’t know… sad or something.”
He shifted to turn sideways, facing her. Clutching her outstretched hand, he said, “Freddy’s dead.”
She heard the words, but they didn’t compute. A sudden coldness hit her core. Her mind raced. Her blood pumped. Her heart hurt.Freddy wasn’t supposed to die. We were supposed to find him and bring him home.But if she were honest with herself, was she shocked? This wasn’t a movie where everything was wrapped up in a happy ending. The stakes were too high: Peter Cano won, and Freddy lost.
Recollections of the night Myla had first met Freddy played through her mind like a carousel.Now he’s gone. Dead. Peter finally found him…She slumped against the couch, dissolving into tears.
“That bastard,” she spat the words out in anger and disgust, “used him, betrayed him, and murdered him!”
Myla rocked back and forth as images of the past three years ricocheted in her brain. Diesel drew her to him and held her tight to his chest as fast, choking sobs consumed her. A deep sadness welled inside her. Even though things had been good between them for quite a while, she hated the thought that he’d been killed… that he was dead.
“I know you’re hurting,” he said, rubbing soft circles on her back.
Burrowing her face in his T-shirt, she didn’t answer. They sat silently for a long time, each lost in their memories.
“I’m sorry as fuck that you’re going through this,” he murmured, snapping her back to the present.
Swiping at the streaks on her face, she glanced up at him. “You’re going through it too. I’m not the only one hurting. Freddy was your brother.”
Diesel’s jaw visibly tightened. “I failed him. I should’ve been able to save him.”
“You didn’t know where he was,” she said softly.
“I should have.”
“How?”
“Fuck, I don’t know. I just failed him. Freddy looked up to me his whole damn life, and in the end, I let him down.”
“If you could have, you would’ve helped him. Freddy knew that but, for whatever reason, didn’t want any assistance.”
