Page 41 of Corrupt

But part of me knew I was setting myself up for the same fall with Tristan. And I couldn’t tell if that scared me…or if some wrecked part of me wanted it, anyway.

The vigil began and I lost myself in the rhythm of that instead. In the hymns. The scripture. The poems I pretended I knew what they meant. And when it ended, everyone flooding out into the warm evening, I handed Maisie back to Keeley and watched her join the others drifting towards the church gates. At the front, Lennon was still there. Bent over the pram. A double buggy, a proper sturdy thing, strapping the twins in. Could’ve been the one I bought them, but I couldn’t bring myself to believe it. Amara came over, touched my arm, then left with Keeley and the aunties.

Lennon stayed.

I watched him light a candle for his brother.

And I don’t know what possessed me, but I walked down the aisle. Big-boy bollocks. Stupidity. Guilt. Take your pick. The closer I got, the smaller I felt. But I took a candle from the rack, lit it from his flame, and stood beside him. Shoulder to shoulder. Both of us gazing at Levi’s picture surrounded by twinkling light.

We didn’t talk.

Silence between us used to mean trouble. Him pissed off; me acting as though I didn’t care. But this… this was different. This silence felt like standing on the edge of something too deep to measure. Hatred and blame tucked away to allow for the grief. Shared. Unspoken. And somehow that was worse. I could handle him hating me. I deserved his anger. Welcomed it, even. But him being gentle? Standing that close, brushing my shoulder with his as if he was holding me up as much as I was holding him?

That nearly dropped me.

Then Lennon, quiet as a prayer, barely more than breath, said, “Miss ya, bruv.”

And yeah, he could’ve been speaking to Levi. To the picture. To the boy we both lost. But I knew he wasn’t. Not this time. He’d said everything he needed to say to Levi. In his speech. The hymns. When his hands shook as he lit his candle. So those words were for me.

“Yeah.” I bowed my head. “Miss you too.”

Lennon looked at me then and I met his gaze through my lashes, bracing myself and hating that part of me still wanting his approval. Wanting to be seen by him as something other than a cautionary tale.

“Y’know,” he sniffed, rubbing his nose, “I got a little hope for you recently.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Ain’t had that for you in a while.”

I dropped my gaze to my boots. Concrete, scuffed leather, anything but his face. Heat burnt behind my eyes, threatening to turn public and ugly if I let it. I wouldn’t. Couldn’t. Crying was for people who believed it changed things.

Lennon dipped closer. “Thought you might have found a reason to walk away.”

That made me look up. Our eyes locked. His steady, mine anything but.

Then he turned to face the other way and put his hand on my shoulder. “So I brought you here to remind you what’ll happen to him if you don’t.” He gave my shoulder a small squeeze. Gentle. Grounding. Nothing like the punches life had thrown at either of us. “You can still tell me, bruv. I’ll hear it.”

“You’re talking as if you already know.”

“Course I do. Don’t mean I don’t wanna hear you own it.” Lennon dropped his hand from my shoulder.

I shook my head. “So you can watch it ripple out there? Watch the word spread. And what happens to me when everyone finds out?”

Lennon turned back to me. “Big bad Razor scared of sticks and stones?”

“I’m scared of blades in the dark, bruv. Of man deciding I’m a liability and sorting it quiet.”

“Then bounce,” he said flat. “Simple.”

“It ain’t simple.” I let out a dry laugh. “You don’t bounce from this. You disappear. Or you get found.”

“Found how?”

“With something heavy pressed behind my ear. Or tucked in my waistband, not mine, but suddenly it is.” I held his stare. “You know how that plays out.”

Silence stretched between us.

“So you reckon staying makes you untouchable?”