“Yeah, well. I can’t say the same about you, I’m afraid, Nicco.”
“That’s fair. I owe you and Loren an apology at the least, an explanation at the most. I can’t get into that right now, but,” he paused, exhaling. “I promise, I plan to make things right with her. Neither of you deserved what happened, but until I can actually tell you what occurred, I don’t want to make things worse by making excuses.”
“Then why are you here?”
“Immy.”
I dropped my arms and rushed forward to him. “Is she okay?”
“She’s… managing. She’s not injured, but she’s not fine either. She’s pissed as hell at Atticus for keeping her from contacting you. It wasn’t her choice, neither of us, but it’s harder to explain how I wasn’t able to reach out as an adult. But believe me when I say, Immy was innocent. She did everything in her power to communicate with you, even defying her brother to ask me.”
Relief and a giddy exhilaration filled me at hearing his words. Everything with Immy had felt so magical, almost too easy, so it had to be too good to be true. In fact, I’d worried I’d imagined it all, and it had been one-sided. To hear she’d fought to get in touch, attempting different ways made my pulse race.
“Can I see her? Or talk to her?”
“Not yet, I’m afraid. But she sent me with something to give to you. I don’t know what it says,” he paused for a second before starting again. “There are things she shouldn’t tell you to keep you safe, but I don’t know how much she cares about following the rules at this point. So, I’d take anything you read with a grain of salt, and keep it to yourself.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He scrubbed his hand over his face, and for once, I saw some real emotion. Exhaustion and perhaps frustration lined his movements. “Fuck, I’m making it worse. Listen, Jude, you’re a smart kid. I’m sure you know about things that go on underneath most people’s knowledge. This might be one of those situations where the information will self-destruct after you read it if you catch my drift.”
“Um, not really, but I promise to not put it on blast to all of my three followers if that helps.”
Nicco chuckled, “I see why Immy likes you. You’re a funny kid.” He pulled out an envelope from his back pocket, and I had to stop myself from reaching out and snatching it out of his hand. My fingers tapped against my leg as I waited for him to stretch it out to me. He stopped midway, keeping it just out of my reach. “How is she? Loren?”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “You mean after you left us for dead in a restaurant after a bomb went off? Or how she covered me with her body and suffered fractures, burns, and was in a coma for a week? Or how about when she woke up, it was to find the guy she was dating nowhere to be seen? If you want to know how she is, then find the courage and ask her yourself. I’m not going to be used for information or allow you to wuss out.”
“She’s lucky to have you, kid. You’re right. I need to quit trying to take the easy way.” Nicco handed me the letter but didn’t let go, and I sighed, rolling my eyes up at him.
“What?”
“Remember, I’m letting you get away with talking to me that way. Lesser men have had their noses broken for less, their knees capped for more. Don’t mistake my kindness toward you now for weakness. Immy is my little sister, and if you ever hurt her in any way, you’ll have a whole bunch of scary-ass looking men and me to contend with. Enter into this knowing that. Do you understand?”
Swallowing, I nodded, and he finally let go of the envelope and headed back out of the entrance. I didn’t want to think about how he found me, too excited to read her words. The envelope was a light pink, surprising me at the girliness of it. Looking around the hall, I didn’t see anyone and found a spot to sit alone. I knew I wouldn’t be able to wait, and there was no way I could do it in a room full of my peers.
Carefully, I lifted the flap and slid out the matching paper. A floral scent wafted out, and I inhaled it, shutting my eyes for a moment as Immy’s presence invaded my senses. Letting out a breath, I opened them back up and unfolded the paper.
Dear Jude,
It’s weird writing a letter. I can’t even remember the last time I’ve written something longer than my signature, but here it goes.
I’ve been fighting with Attie, screaming at him to let me contact you, and yet now I sit here, I don’t even know how to say it in a damn letter.
Mostly, I don’t know how to start because how do I tell you what happened, or why I can’t get in touch? The truth… I can’t. And I’m sorry for that. It’s not fair.
What I can tell you… I miss you. Gah, I sound like such a girl, but I do. I hope you miss me too.
I know it’s weird. We’d only known each other for, what? A few weeks? And yet, it feels so much longer. I kind of want to slap myself for sounding so cliche, but I guess cliches are what they are for a reason. When we met, I was finding who I was again. Still am, if I’m honest. Some bad shit happened to me, and I’m not done dealing with it. That’s what I’m also upset about.
Loren had been helping me, and then bam! I’m back to being locked up in a fortress, a constant reminder of him. I hate it here so much.
But you’ve also given me something to fight for. I wanted to give up at first, fall back into the depressive black hole I’d been in for months, shutting out everyone and everything.
But then I’d hear a song you sent me or a funny joke I’d want to tell you, and I would be reminded it wasn’t all bad. Because what world could be evil when there was a Jude Franklin out there? The kindest, most precious boy I’d ever met. And I mean that in the best possible way.
I know you don’t think much of yourself. I struggle with this too. So maybe hearing it from a self-proclaimed loner will have some merit.
Now that I got the gushy stuff out of the way, some truth, or as much as I can (again, see above).