Slowly, painfully, I stood and grabbed my toothbrush. Turning the water on, I brushed my teeth and then washed my face, wincing when the cleanser and hot water hit my cheeks. When I looked up, I saw my reflection. Tiny marks splattered my cheeks. Shadows were painted into the skin under my eyes. My hair was still a little damp from sleeping on it wet, and at the moment it was the color of wine, and going in every other direction. I pushed away from the sink and walked back into the bedroom. Each step felt immeasurably slow.
Nothing felt... Nothing felt real as I picked up my phone again.
“Mallory?” Carl called from downstairs. “Can you come down here?”
I clenched the phone in my hand and hurried down, finding them both sitting at the kitchen table. I slowed as I approached the island. They looked like they hadn’t slept much the night before. His gray shirt was wrinkled. Stray hairs escaped Rosa’s short ponytail, fanning her face like little fingers.
“Why don’t you come sit down?” Carl advised gently. Coffee mugs sat in front of them and the scent was heavy in the air.
Sensing that this wasn’t going to be a conversation I wanted to stick around for, I stayed where I was.
He looked at Rosa and then continued. “How are you feeling?”
I thought...I thought that was an incredibly stupid question.
“I know what you just saw was a lot to deal with. A lot, and Rosa and I both wished you would never have to experience something like that again.”
Again?
Then it hit me. How could I forget? He was talking about Miss Becky. Besides the dull eyes, this was nothing like finding Miss Becky in her bed, long dead and cold to the touch. I didn’t know the specifics, but her death had been peaceful compared to Jayden’s. Her death was nothing like Jayden’s.
“And we know that right now is a tough time,” Carl went on, and I blinked, wondering if I’d missed half of what he’d said. “But this conversation can’t wait.”
“What...?” I looked between them as I placed my phone on the island. “What can’t?”
“Rider.” Rosa picked up her coffee mug. “We need to talk about Rider.”
My brows flew up. “Why?”
“I think it’s pretty obvious,” Carl stated, his tone gentle but firm. “What happened yesterday—”
“Has nothing to do with Rider,” I interrupted.
Surprise flickered across Carl’s face and then was gone so quickly I wasn’t sure I actually saw it. “I’m going to have to disagree with that.”
“Both of us are,” Rosa joined in. “You would never have been anywhere near that neighborhood if it weren’t for Rider.”
“What’s wrong with that neighborhood?” I demanded, and Carl raised his brow. “Yeah, it’s not the greatest—it’s not the Pointe or where Ainsley lives, but it’s not the worst in this city.”
“It’s not a good place, Mallory.” Carl folded his hands around his mug. “Now, I know you haven’t seen a lot of this city, but we have. We—”
“I have seen the worst shit this city has to offer and it has nothing to do with the neighborhood.” Anger flashed through me, bright as the sun, and I vaguely realized that I hadn’t paused once while speaking. I was too—too pissed to care.
“Mallory,” warned Rosa. “Language.”
“My language? I saw someone get shot—” My voice cracked. “I saw a friend die yesterday and you’re blaming Rider for this?”
“We’re not blaming Rider,” Carl replied. “We just don’t think your friendship with him is the best thing for you right now.”
“I’m not his friend.” My hands curled into fists. “He’s my boyfriend.”
Carl muttered under his breath as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Mallory...”
“What? You know he’s my boyfriend.”
“Yes, but...” He looked at Rosa helplessly.
“Look, honey, we of all people are not the type to judge, but Rider is not the kind of people you need to be involved with.” Rosa set her mug aside. “That’s what we’re trying to say.”
I stared at her, dumbfounded. “What kind of people are you talking about?”
“The kind who has no future. The kind who doesn’t even care about the fact he has no future planned.” Carl’s tone hardened, and I flinched. Was that what they thought of Rider? “The kind that takes you to a neighborhood where fifteen-year-olds are shot in the goddamn street.”
My mouth dropped open.
“Carl.” Rosa reached over, placing a hand on his arm.
“No. We trust you to make smart decisions, but we don’t trust him. We’ve been tolerant enough with this whole Rider business because we knew what he meant to you, but we are drawing a line with this.” His cheeks flushed a ruddy color. “You could’ve been hurt yesterday or worse. That is unacceptable and I will not go through this again.”
“It’s not his fault!” I shouted.
Rosa blinked, taken aback. Not in the four years I’ve been with them had I ever raised my voice or talked back to them. “We know it’s not his fault, Mallory, but that doesn’t change what happened.”
“Okay, let’s talk about Mr. Stark.” Carl’s eyes flashed. “What is he planning to do once he graduates—if he graduates? Spray-paint cars for the rest of his life?”
My skin flushed hot. “What’s wrong with that if he did choose it? He’s good at what he does. And he is brilliant.” I itched to pick up something and throw it. Not only because of what I was hearing, but because Rider did give off that impression to people. To everyone. That he didn’t care, but he did. Now I was...I was pissed at them and him. “Rider has a future.”