“What’s wrong?” He nearly dives to me, knees squeaking over the hardwood floor as he stops in front of me and scoops me up in his large embrace.
“I’m okay,” I whisper, so the scratchiness in my throat doesn’t give me away. This only makes me tear up more. Why is that? When people show they care, I have less of an ability to contain my pain. It’s as if the question itself is an act of comfort, and my emotions leap out of me at any sign of care. Despite my best efforts, I’m now soaking his shirt with my tears as he rubs circles on my back.
“Tell me who hurt you.” His voice is almost vengeful, like a shield he’s offering his protection. I can’t tell him, though, so this only makes me cry harder. He lets me cry for I don’t know how long, but my entire face feels swollen by the end of it.
“Scout, you’re scaring me.” He whispers, holding me tightly to his chest.
“I’m sorry.” I sob. But this isn’t anI’m sorryfor not being able to answer him. It’s one that’s for everything else I’ve done to fuck things up. To hurt him. To hurt his family. The worst part is, he doesn’t even know, and he’s still holding me as if I’m not the one who’s causing my tears. The one he wants to go after for hurting me. Riggs might be wrong about the San Giovanni’s, but he wasn’t wrong about one thing.
I am their enemy.
I hate myself for it, but I am. Because going directly against them, violating their trust, abusing their kindness… a friend wouldn’t do that. So, I’m crying in the arms of the person I’ve hurt and will hurt again to keep him alive. The logistics of this are getting more confusing than it was the moment I realized that there was something more between Tito and me.
I force my lungs to take deep breaths so that I’ll be able to calm down. It’s tough at first, but the more I continue, the easier it becomes. Slowly the tears stop rolling, and in their places is a more permanent sorrow.
“We have to go to work.” I cough, pulling away from him and wiping my face with the backs of my hands. I don’t need to see him, to know he’s looking at me like I’m crazy.
“Scout…” he lightly cups my upper arm with his hand, sliding down to my elbow.
“I’m okay. It’s too much to explain right now.” Not a lie, but also not implying the truth. I will, in fact, not be telling him about it at any point, though it seems this may be the impression my words give because he’s slowly nodding.
“Okay.” He softly says. “I’ll meet you downstairs.”
“Okay.” I agree, and he stands, pulling me to my feet along with him. He takes one last look at me before placing a hand firmly on the back of my head and pulling me close to him. His soft lips kiss my forehead, then he presses his to mine, looking into my eyes like he’s trying to read something in a different language.
“You promise you’re okay?” He whispers. I attempt to say yes, but my words are stuck in the back of my throat, so I just nod quickly before pulling away. He glances at me with sad eyes one more time before leaving me alone. I swallow my tears in a familiar loneliness that never seemed so taunting. And head over to the clothing rack in the corner of the room to grab another fully put-together outfit by Espie and Olive.
I end up choosing this olive green jumpsuit. Long, wide pant legs and short sleeves. I tie my hair up in a bun and head straight out the door with a sinking feeling in my body that feels like quicksand. Everything was falling perfectly into place only hours ago, but now I feel as though I’m watching my life implode in slow motion from the outside.
Tito waits for me at the bottom of the steps, and I make a conscious effort not to admire his incredible physique in his white button-down. He grabs my hand as we head outside, and Van waits for us in the car.
“He’s up early,” Tito notes before he opens my door for me. I don’t make eye contact with him or even think I react to his comment. When the door closes, and Tito is in his seat, we make our usual route to work.
I have no desire to sit quietly in the workspace with him, or worse, have to create conversation. Every time I look at him, I’m tortured by what I am going to do tonight, but I have no choice. I have to give up our tech, or everyone I’ve grown to care for will be dead. And who knows if they’ll stop there?
My tears make a reappearance, but I blink them away in time for Tito to open my door for me when we arrive. After getting inside and sitting down at our desks, we work silently for the hours ahead.
As time passes, I feel my stomach churning with anxiety, fighting me with every intention I have to take what doesn’t truly belong to me. Not just Tito’s tech, but his chances at getting to do what he loves.
The day breezes by, and it’s probably because I’m working two jobs. The first one is fighting off the thought in my brain and desperately trying not to have a panic attack. And the other job is my actual one. Another thing I’ll likely lose the moment I’m found out. I don’t see how I will remain in this role after I betray everything because of threats and a contract I should have never signed.
At the end of the day, Tito hands out everyone's checks for the work they’ve accomplished while I stay at my desk, finishing up last-minute details on coding for a device I plan to steal anyway. It's useless, but I’m just busying my hands at this point.
“Hey, you ready to go home?” Tito’s shoes knock against the floor as he nears me.
“Uh, yeah.” I nod, doing everything I can to avoid looking in his eyes. Just as I begin to stand, the doors to the workroom burst open, and I leap up, preparing to fight somehow. But it’s not the FBI or Agent Riggs. It’s Vince. Both he and Tito look at me like I’m crazy before Vince turns his head back in Tito’s direction.
“We need to talk.” He lowers his brows in a grave tone that makes me instantly worry. Tito shrugs.
“Alright, talk.”
“Not here.”
“Okay…” Tito grabs my hand to walk with him, but Vince steps forward.
“Alone.”
“Why can’t Scout—”