In the past year, his relationship with Erin had been slow moving, but for the first time in his life he was okay with that. He loved her quick temper while she embraced his childlike personality. The sex was amazing, like nothing he’d ever experienced before. Erin had taught him to connect on every level, and as far as Alex was concerned, there was no other way to live. They were equals and opposites all at the same time. It was strange to have such a positive outlook on his future, to be so unsure yet unafraid of what was to come. He was free and he was loved, what more could a hoodlum from Logan Heights ask for?
He thought about Tristan and Josie often, marveling at their ability to survive such tragedy and tricky circumstance. He wondered where they were and what their lives were like, but he never wondered if they were together. That was a given.
Confined to the shadows of the streets of Prague, Rob Nettles pulled the gun from his waistband. His pulse thundered in his ears, making it nearly impossible to hear anything else. The index finger on his right hand twitched against the trigger, and he cursed his edginess. Bouncing his head off of the brick wall a few times, he fought to maintain control of his senses, focusing on the pain of the rough brick against his scalp. He wanted to remain entirely aware of what was about to go down. This was his destiny, his death.
In the year since he’d lost Monica, Rob had been focused on exterminating this bastard. He stumbled upon this ring of human trading and child enslavement. He’d heard about it through some punk rookie when he’d returned to Manhattan. Before Monica, the idea of this would have displeased him, but he would have sat back and done nothing. Now things were different. The idea of children being bought and sold and mistreated enraged him. He took it as a severe dishonor to everything Monica had ever worked for.
For months, Rob had been climbing his way through the organization, feigning indifference to the suffering of innocents. He endured so many pain-filled nights alone that he could not survive it any longer. If he thought the world was dark before he met Monica, it was downright abysmal now that she was gone.
Rob had been planning this suicide mission for a while, his resolve never faltering. Finally nailing down the leader’s schedule, he waited in the most opportune place for an ambush. The man would be vulnerable for a few seconds, and with Rob’s accuracy, a few seconds was all he needed. The only problem was that the man’s guards would then descend upon him.
Echoing footsteps signaled their approach, and with self-loathing conviction, he stepped from the shadows and nailed his target before being perforated by their retaliation. He smiled at this, exhaling long and slow. He welcomed their punishments, each bullet bringing pain and absolution. He silently begged for forgiveness and pictured his Button’s smiling face. Rob embraced his death and all that it offered him, peace and the end of heartache.
“What makes them glow?” Josie asked, leaning against the scratchy bark of the old tree and trying to follow the fireflies’ glow.
“A type of chemical reaction called bioluminescence. The enzyme luciferase acts on the luciferin, in the presence of magnesium ions, ATP, and oxygen to produce light,’” Tristan answered, running his hands over her denim-covered thigh.
Josie rolled her eyes and smiled at him, showing that she loved his superior intellect just as much as his handsome face. She watched him watching her and no longer feared judgment or rejection. She loved having his eyes on her, among other things.
“Do you think we’ll ever be too old to climb this tree?” she asked, looking down at the ground.
“Yeah, one day,” he answered. “But then we’ll come and sit beneath it. We’ll enjoy the shade and think about the days we spent up here.”
“Hmm, that sounds promising,” she whispered, leaning forward and capturing his lips.
There was no frenzied groping or sexual expectations, only chaste exchanges of love.
“Do you think I’ll ever get my memory back?” Josie asked.
“Well, we’ve tried the reminder effect of reliving memories through stories, and that didn’t work. In most cases, memories only come back by spontaneous recovery. After this long, the odds are that your memories may never come back.”
Josie sighed and watched the sun set behind the trees. Fiery gold and orange painted the sky.
“Are you okay with that?” Tristan asked, concern lacing his voice.
“Yeah, I’m fine. I accepted that a long time ago. As far as New York goes, I don’t want to know those details. I’ve got you and your family to fill in the good stuff.”
When Josie’s skin chilled from the night air, they climbed down from the comforting branches and headed inside. Dinner was amazing, as always. Bitsy had been taking cooking classes and loved using the two as guinea pigs.
“Where’s Dad?” Tristan asked, shoving another forkful of food into his mouth.
“He’s on call and had to go in for a while. I guess you’ll see him in the morning,” she said, smiling sweetly.
“So, Tristan, how are classes going?”
“Great,” he answered. “I tested out of the lower-level classes, and with my schedule I’ll be graduating by this time next year.”
Josie smiled at him, radiating so much pride. She didn’t understand how Tristan had been led astray by Moloney, how he’d sacrificed so much. Then she reminded herself that it had been for the love of a girl that he’d done those things and suddenly it was much easier to comprehend.
“That’s great, sweetie. And you, Josie?”
“I’m good. I’m doing a mural for this bank downtown. It’s weird to be doing legit painting in the middle of the day. Art classes are a breeze, but the general ed classes are fucking killing me.”
Josie slapped her hand over her mouth before mumbling an apology to Bitsy.
Bitsy nodded and they all went back to their dinner. When the food was finished and the dishes washed, the three of them sat in the den around the television.
“You two don’t visit enough,” Bitsy announced during a commercial break.
“Ma, not again,” Tristan begged.
Josie giggled as Bitsy hit her son with the glare that only mothers possessed.
“Don’t ‘Ma’ me, Tristan. I know school keeps you busy, but I expect at least one visit every month. You only live across the river. You could call more too.”
“Okay, okay,” he relented. “You heard from Dad?”
“Yes, he won’t be home until around midnight,” she answered.
Bitsy looked around, as if searching for onlookers, before rising from her chair. She sauntered toward the two, a devilish grin on her face.
“Can I tell you two a secret?” she whispered.
The pair looked on in curiosity as Bitsy began to unbutton her jeans.
“Mom! What the hell are you doing?” Tristan exclaimed, mortified by the thought of his mother undressing before him.
“Oh, calm down, Tristan. I just want to show you this.”
Bitsy inched down her jeans to reveal a small red heart tattoo on her left hip. There was a white banner across the heart proudly displaying the name Daniel.
“Holy shit!” Tristan yelled.
“That is awesome!” Josie replied, inching forward to get a better look. “Damn, you’re legit now!”
Bitsy laughed and refastened her jeans before settling back down into her chair, more than satisfied. Tristan sat motionless, just staring wordlessly at the space where his mother had been.