Free You Are Here by S. M. Lumetta Page B

who didn’t have one. Perhaps that was part of what got me singled out for recruitment.
    I refocused on Nash, whose fingers snapped directly before my eyes. His forehead was creased and his face had flushed with aggravation. “What the hell is with you? I’m just trying to talk to you, man. I mean, I know guys don’t talk , but Jesus.”
    My entire body sagged. I felt heavy and drunk, my muscles laced with lead and my eyes unfocused. My armor was disintegrating against my old friend’s unstoppable assault. I had nothing left.
    “Your brother is dead, Nash. He doesn’t exist anymore.”
    For the first time in his life, Nash Bonnar looked absolutely terrified.
    Just then, Vivi returned to the table. She froze when she laid eyes on us, staring in confusion. Nash didn’t move to let her back into the booth.
    She ping-ponged her attention between the two of us before wondering aloud, “What the hell happened in the last five minutes?”
    I had lost this battle, so there was no need to play “normal” anymore. I pulled a hundred from my wallet and threw it on the table as I left.
    Three steps from the stairs that led up to Michigan Avenue, a vise on my arm stopped me cold. I didn’t try to get my arm back, but gracelessly pivoted on the spot.
    “Call your brother.” He dropped my arm and held out a business card. “I don’t care if you never do another thing for me or anyone else you used to care about, but do something for Drew. You nearly fucking destroyed him.”
    I stared at the card in his hand. My eyes squeezed shut, not wanting to think about any of it. I’d had all I could take.
    “Nash—”
    But he didn’t let me say any more. He shoved the card roughly into my palm along with my hundred-dollar bill and stomped back into the restaurant.
    Looking down at the crumpled paper in my hand, I felt them come. The tears. Sweet Christ, the tears. I stumbled back and collapsed onto a step. My breath came in gasps, my eyes blinded by the overflow. If people stared, I didn’t know. The physical pain centering in my chest was impenetrable. Being stabbed was more pleasant than facing the life I’d abandoned. This was agony erupting from within and it leaked from my eyes.
    When I finally regained control over myself, I stood and shoved the crumpled card and bill into my pocket. I practically jumped into traffic to hail a cab.
    When the cab pulled up to my hotel, I grabbed blindly at the wrinkled hundred from my pocket and handed it to him. Before he could offer me change, I was out of the cab and halfway through the lobby. I knew it was too much, but I needed that bill out of my hands. I also knew the card Nash gave me was still tangled with it.
    For the first time in years, I decided I would like nothing more than to be unconscious. Maybe sleep would reset my system.
    Can you put a cork in an active volcano?
    Once back in my room, I veered toward the bathroom to turn on the faucet. I splashed the cold water on my face, rubbing my wet fingers over the back of my neck.
    I lifted my head to scrutinize my reflection.
    You look like shit.
    Didn’t matter. I was going to rebound from this. I made the choice years ago and I was going to stick to it.
    After a series of heavy breaths and a forceful exhale, my resolve returned hardily. I watched my eyes begin to flatten. I straightened. Pleased, I grabbed a towel and dried my face.
    A fresh coat of sealant and the cracks would disappear, the plates of my world would steady and lock. I could be numb again. And I would goddamn well bury Grey Ellicott for good. My survival depended on it.
    But sleep was not in the cards. No matter how hard I tried to sleep, I was uneasy, Nash’s questions kept me wired and prompted the rerun from hell.
    What should have been one of the best days of my life thus far—high school graduation—was officially the worst on record. Dad had been his usual disapproving and disappointed-in-everything-I-did self. Even with a 3.8 GPA, I was clearly an