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Back Losers: Part I Save as PDF
Chapters (58)
  1. Table of Contents
  2. Content Note
  3. A Note From The Author
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. 15
  19. 16
  20. 17
  21. 18
  22. 19
  23. 20
  24. 21
  25. 22
  26. 23
  27. 24
  28. 25
  29. 26
  30. 27
  31. 28
  32. 29
  33. 30
  34. 31
  35. 32
  36. 33
  37. 34
  38. 35
  39. 36
  40. 37
  41. 38
  42. 39
  43. 40
  44. 41
  45. 42
  46. 43
  47. 44
  48. 45
  49. 46
  50. 47
  51. 48
  52. 49
  53. 50
  54. 51
  55. 52
  56. Acknowledgements
  57. Also By Harley Laroux
  58. About The Author

And now Jess, whose presence in my life had felt like both an aspiration and a warning. This wasn’t only a game, regardless of whatever silly rules we made or excuses we came up with. Jess had given me something to strive for, but it was more than that.

Her presence here was proof I was better than where I’d come from. I was stronger than the violence and the pain that had formed me. She felt safe here, safe with me — and that meant the world. That was what I’d always wanted for myself and my boys — safety, peace, somewhere we could exist without constant judgment, without fear.

I watched her with them and knew they would protect her as fiercely as they protected me. Whatever the fuck my father tried to do — if anything — we would never let him touch her.

Never.

52

52

Lucas

The setting sun kissed the horizon, turning the sky pink and orange. The colors melted into the clouds, swirling like paint as the golden light touched my bare arms.

It made me feel nostalgic, although I wasn’t sure why. Was it possible to feel nostalgia for something you’d never experienced? Bedtime stories, running through sprinklers, playgrounds, and holding your parents’ hand — I longed for things I’d seen only on TV, or enviously watched others experience. I craved it as if it had ever been mine and not only a dream.

There was a pop and hiss as Manson opened a beer and handed it to me before opening his own. We were seated in the back of the Bronco, legs dangling over the tall weeds in the middle of the field we were parked in.

This gave me nostalgia too. Just the two of us in the back of his car, marveling at the approach of another long night. Shocked that we’d survived another day.

How many nights had we laid together in the back of this vehicle, telling each other every fucked-up thought in our heads because no one else would listen? How many nights had we fallen asleep in each other’s arms, because parting felt like one of us might not be there the next morning?

How many times had we told each other to keep going, to keep fucking fighting, because if one of us gave up, there was no hope for any of us at all?

“Feels like a lifetime since we watched the sunset,” I said.

Manson was seated close beside me, his arm pressed against mine as he lifted his can and took a sip. “Been too long. I feel like I’m losing track of time. The days keep disappearing.”

I nodded as I took out a cigarette and lit up. I took a long drag, savoring the slight burn in my throat and the hit of nicotine. I passed it to him, and he looked at it between his fingers for a long time before he took a drag.