Page 115 of The Lucky One

“Yeah right, as if I was that desperate,” Marna jeered. “If I wanted a cock I could’ve gotten one with a snap of my fingers.” She laughed with her entire body, and I hated her even more than I did before. Hated myself for putting everyone I loved in their line of sight.

I let it slide. It was useless to argue with her. “I need more time,” I said instead.

“We gave you enough time.” Marna tramped across the room and returned with a bunch of little plastic baggies. “Here.”

I stared at the bags of white powder, the pink pills I used to give my all for—and gritted my teeth. “I told you, I can only sell weed.”

“Weed brings in peanuts. We need more to get Ted out of prison.”

“I’m an addict, Marna! Fuck!” I took a step back. My hands were shaking. “You can’t hand me this and expect me not to relapse.”

“Not my problem.” A mischievous smile painted itself on her face. This was her personal payback. Not because her brother got locked up, but because I’d rejected her. “Get this sold within the next week. If not, we’ll have to pay another little visit to Paul. And this time we won’t only threaten him. We will end him.”

She pointed at the table. On it rested a handgun.

I let out a semi-controlled breath. When Paul got beat up on my street, I knew exactly who was behind it. Ever since, I’d been in contact with them, trying to make deals, but when I didn’t text back right away on that date with Emily, they threatened Paul again—and Kiki, since she was with him. I was proud of him for creaming the dude, but I wished he hadn’t raised his fists at him. Now they were angry and they wanted him to pay.

But I wouldn’t let that happen. I would protect him. He had saved me; now it was my turn to save him.

“Or...” Marna ran her finger along my jaw. “We could go say hi to your little girlfriend. Emma or something—or how you like to call her, what was it...” She stepped close to my ear and whispered, “Little German.”

I snatched the baggies from her hands and stuffed them into my pockets. “If I find out that you’ve even looked at her,” I growled, “your brother being locked up will be the least of your problems.”

Marna wiggled her brows, accepting the challenge. “Good boy. I’m expecting an update in three days.”

I had to get out of here before I let my emotions get the best of me and did something I would definitely regret.

I rushed out the door to my car. I’d been Marna’s fucking callboy for two months now. Whenever she called or texted, I had to come—no matter what my plans were. Hence missing countless opportunities to see Emily, running late to my mom’s dinner, making sure Emily never got ahold of my phone. I wanted to tell her I was dealing to pay back my debt, to keep her and Paul out of aim. But I couldn’t. It would only prove what a screw-up I was after all. And if she found out, she’d throw solutions at me to fix this. But Let’s tell Humphrey and Let’s warn Paul weren’t options.

All I had wanted for us was to be happy, like a normal couple. To keep her away from drugs and gang drama. For Paul to enjoy his last year of high school.

I pulled out the plastic baggies, looked at them in my lap. My veins twitched and screamed for a taste.

“I need a meeting,” I mumbled to myself, throwing them in the glove box. But when I looked up I spotted amber eyes through the window. Amber eyes, raven hair, cherry-red lips.

Kiki yanked open the passenger door. “What the fuck, Jon!” she yelled, and I was positive the entire neighborhood heard it.

“Kiki, shut up.” I pulled her into the car. “What are you doing here?”

She crossed her arms. “I followed you because I wanted to talk to you. I can’t believe you’re at it again. I thought you were doing better!”

“I am doing better!” Why did everyone always think the worst of me? I hadn’t relapsed. Not even once. No matter the thousands of times I was tempted to do it.

“Then what’s all that?” Kiki pointed at the glove box.

I sighed, letting my eyes fall closed. There was no way out of this, no way other than telling her the truth. “How much time do you have?”

Kiki met me at my place after I told her that we shouldn’t have this conversation in a car filled with drugs. Behind the locked basement door, she quietly listened to me on the couch before breaking down in tears. “You haven’t told anyone this?” she said between sobs. I passed her a tissue from the coffee table.

“My family knows parts of it, but the whole story... no.”

She looked at me, not with pity but with pain scattered in her eyes. I scooched over, letting her sob into my chest. Exactly this reaction was why I didn’t want to tell anyone.

“I’m so sorry, Jon,” she sniffled.

“Don’t be. It’s fine,” I said, and she hugged me tighter.

“How is it fine? Finally everything was going well for you, and then...” A huge sob interrupted her.