Athena

61. Fuck Me Like You Still Hate Me

The drive back to our motel is quiet. Tense. Scenery, tranquil and vast, flies by the window in a seemingly endless stretch of forests, meadows, and mountains. I have to admit, Flagstaff is beautiful. Sadly, I'm not in the mood to enjoy any of it. I can't focus on anything but Cruz. My eyes keep darting toward him. There's a tick in his jaw that won't go away.

What's he thinking right now?

So badly, I want to talk to him and clear the air, but I'm scared to break the silence. I don't know what to say. I feel like, after all these twists and turns over the past few days, I've lost the fucking plot. The unanswered questions simmering between us don't have clear, easy solutions.

As our rental car shoots down street after street, the shine from my chat with Nascha is beginning to wear off, and everything my great aunt offered me suddenly sounds too good to be true. The woman seemed nice enough from our hour-long meeting, but a good first impression doesn't change the fact that she's still a stranger. I hardly know her, and my trust issues have trust issues. After being dealt so many shitty blows in life, I have a hard time believing that she's the real deal. There has to be a catch.

There's always a catch.

Yet, even if my great aunt can deliver on half of her promises to Persie and me, I'd be an idiot to turn her down. At the very least, my sister and I would have a free place to live, and we'd finally be together again, I'd be doing a huge disservice to my future and Persie's future by walking away from such an opportunity.

I peer over at Cruz again, his knuckles are stretched tight as he grips the steering wheel, and my heart clenches with apprehension.

Fuck.

I can't leave him behind, though. Not even for Persie. I just can't.

He's everything to me.

There's no way in hell I'm letting him go back to his dad's house alone. After the volatile way we left things, Ron will probably end up hurting Cruz if he returns home. Or worse. I don't even want to think about the levels of cruelty and rage that Ron might unleash on him.

My mind starts reeling, spiraling, spinning.

What can we do?

If I reject Nascha's offer, the three of us, Persie, Cruz, and me, will be homeless.

But we'll be together.

If Persie and me choose to stay with Nascha, Cruz will have to go somewhere else.

Unless I can convince my great aunt to take him in as well?

I'll have to fucking try.

Maybe Nascha will let him live with us, at least, until he turns eighteen and goes off to college?

It's a huge ask, I know. My great aunt and I share blood, but, as I mentioned earlier, she's a stranger to me. And Cruz is a stranger to her. I'm not in any position to ask Nascha for more than she's willing to give, and she certainly doesn't owe Cruz anything. My mind takes a pessimistic turn. There's a big chance she might say "no" to Cruz.

What... then?

Frustration mounts in me. It turns into despair. My temples start to ache. Every worry inside my head sounds off like a siren. Each one fights for my attention until I can't think straight anymore.

Soon, Cruz pulls back into the motel parking lot and parks the car. He finally speaks up then, splitting the tension with a quiet, strained voice, "You... okay?"

Fuck, no.

Not at all.

A sting hits the back of my eyes. I shake my head and blink back my tears. "You?"