“I’m telling you the truth.”
“Why did you agree to keep someone safe that you barely knew?”
“I believed you were kind.” He shakes his head, and with it, I remember another reason. However, if I withhold the other part of the truth, I’ll be proving him right. And he isn’t right, not about the rest of this anyway.
“I needed the money.” A tear forces its way down my cheek, but it does nothing to relieve me of this torture. The look in Tito’s eyes, his contorted face, and growing distance from me.
“There it is.” His face falls flat, but still, he cannot hide the corners of his mouth turning down. He’s disgusted with me, and I don’t blame him. I’m disgusted with myself, too. “You can do whatever you want. I’m not going to kick you out, but I can’t speak for Vince or Pops.” He turns around to head out the door before stopping and turning back around. “Oh,” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his wallet, ripping out a check from the center. Then he slaps it down so loudly on the desk beside him that it makes me jump. “Almost forgot, it’s payday.” He spits like an insult— and I guess it is— huffing out of the room with clenched fists.
I feel my face contort, my body cave in on itself, and my head hits the floor before I realize I’ve fallen. Tears dump from my eyes, and I have to force sharp breaths into my tightening lungs. There is nothing left for me now. Tito will never forgive me. I will never forgive myself.
I guess I was right about one thing this morning; Tito and I arenothing, and whatever we were is a memory, remaining in my mind as punishment for what I’ve done. As if his absence for the rest of my life won’t be enough torture to endure.
Chapter Twenty Two:Tito
I’msurprised I can see, with all the blood rushing to my head, I’d think I might pass out or notice black spots. It might help to experience that— the passing out part. At least I wouldn’t be stuck sitting in the back of Vince’s car, heading home from the last day I’ll ever see Scout Summers.
That name used to mean something to me, something good, intrinsic, passionate. Now all I see is betrayal, and the twisting feeling in the pit of my stomach like my insides are being dissected out of me. Is this what Vince so badly wanted me to experience? This depth of equal rage and pain so horrible it sends me into a psychosis?
Caring for someone the way I did, the way I do, for Scout can only hurt in the end. I guess some things we learn the hard way.
The second we arrive home, I shoot right to my room, throwing together everything I have and shoving it in a suitcase. If everything goes right tomorrow, none of this will matter. The growing hole in my chest will seem a little less like a festering wound and a little more like something to push me forward. A reminder to never let myself feel this way again. Never give my emotions to someone the way I have with Scout. I want it all back. Everything I gave her and want to keep, nothing I took.
But everything we were, is stuck to me like I’ve sewn it there, and I don’t have any other option but to rip it out at the seams.
Olive hears me furiously packing. I know she does because she's sitting against the wall by her room with her phone clutched between her hands. She seems distressed. And I should know, considering the pain I’m in right now. I feel bad for her and usually stop to chat, but I don’t have any time. I’m getting the hell out of town.
After I finish packing, I shoot a text to Vince.
“Have some of the boys head down to the workspace and pack up everything. Get my tech on the jet within the hour. I’m leaving tonight.”
He responds with a thumbs up, and I pull my suitcase off the bed, lugging it out of my room and intending to go down the stairs. That is until Olive stops me. Her feet in front of mine shocks me more than it should have.
“I thought you were sitting over there.” I breathe, stopping at the staircase.
“I was.” Her voice sounds strained, and her eyes are slightly red.
“Are you okay?” I drop my bag, and the tears start to flow, so I forget everything and pull her into a comforting embrace.
“I want to leave.” She mumbles into my shirt.
“Why?”
“I can’t be in LA right now.”
“Well, you’re in luck.” She pulls away from me, hope now brimming her tear-filled eyes.
“I am?”
“Come with me to Italy.”
“Are you serious?” Espie walks out of her room, having heard our conversation. I instantly recall the one we had, the one where she expressed wanting to go. For different reasons to Olive it seems, but regardless, I still said no to her.
“Espie—” I reach for her, but she flips her long hair off her shoulder and slams her bedroom door in both our faces.
“She’ll get over it.” Olive nods, trying to move the conversation along.
“You’re not getting back in that room anytime soon. How are you going to pack?”