Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
EVERETT
W e cleared the house out after the fight. Not that we had to. Everyone would’ve stayed all night if we’d let them. Honestly, the fight only amplified the original energy in the house. Like a heavy dose of adrenaline was injected into everyone’s veins—everyone’s but mine—and they were ready for the next round. There was a brawl in the family room, too. Drake’s friends got into it with Reeves and a few of my other teammates.
Assholes.
Pressing the bag of frozen peas to my jaw, I stretch my legs out on the couch as exhaustion spreads through me. I can’t erase the image of Raine walking away. The way she got in the car without a word. Not like a coward. Like a survivor. It’s messing with my head.
The cushion dips beside me when Griffin takes a seat and rests his forearms on his knees. “Any idea what that was about?”
“I’ll tell you what it was about,” Reeves interjects from the kitchen. “It was about a possessive motherfucker who didn’t like you being locked in the bathroom with his girlfriend. Is she or is she not your client?”
Scrubbing my hand over my face, I mutter, “Not.”
“Why not?” Griffin asks.
“Because she’s scared,” Reeves answers for me. “I’ve seen it too many times. She got cold feet and figured hiring help wasn’t worth rocking the boat.”
“Okay, then why’d he come here if she isn’t working with Ev?” Griff questions. “Or was it her idea?”
I shake my head. “She didn’t know this was our place.”
Rounding the center island, Reeves steps over a broken lamp and sits on the sofa opposite ours. “So, it was his idea. Why’d he come here, Ev?”
I exhale slowly. “I went to see her a few days ago.”
“What do you mean you went to see her?” Reeves demands.
“At her job,” I clarify. “She works at a tattoo shop, and I stopped by.”
Kicking his feet up on the coffee table separating us, Reeves laces his fingers behind his head. “How’d you find out where she works if she never hired you?”
It’s a good question, one I don’t want to answer, but I have a feeling the guys won’t drop it until I do.
“I wanted to give Raine my number in case she needs anything,” I admit.
Exchanging a look with Reeves, Griffin points out, “You didn’t exactly answer him.”
“Fine. I did some digging. Used Drake’s name. Recruited Finley’s online stalking and figured out where Raine works.”
“Should’ve known it was your baby sister who helped,” Griff grumbles under his breath.
Leaning closer, Reeves prods, “Do you think Raine told Drake you came to see her?”
I shake my head. “I doubt it. She was pretty adamant I leave, but she did mention how Cedar Springs is a small town and word would get around I was there.”
“So he knew you were sniffing around, and he decided to return the favor,” Griffin acknowledges, motioning to the broken glass littering the floor from tonight’s fight. “Well, look how it all turned out.”
“Yeah, I’m gonna go with not good,” Reeves says with a laugh. “Your parents are gonna kill you guys if you don’t clean up the place.”
“You’re the one who wanted to throw a party,” I remind him.
“And it definitely didn’t disappoint.” He flexes his hand. “Haven’t been in a fight like that since before Dylan.” Snapping his fingers, his grin widens. “Actually, since Homecoming. Man, I bet Drake’s feeling your fists right about now. I know I did when I was in his shoes.”
I almost crack a smile at the memory, grateful I was able to work shit out with Reeves and come out the other side as actual friends instead of the fake bullshit we’d endured since he flaked before last season’s playoffs, and we lost.
My phone rings. I frown when I pull it out of my front pocket. The number’s unknown. Curious, I slide my thumb across the screen and answer. “Hello?”
A soft sniffle cuts through the silence, and I cock my head, waiting.
“Everett?”
I sit up a little straighter, ignoring my friends’ curious stares. “Raine?”
“Yeah.” She breathes deep. “It’s me.”
She sounds like shit.
“Where are you?” I demand.
“Honestly?” A quiet, bitter laugh echoes through my cell. “I have no idea. I’m on the side of a back road somewhere between your house and mine. ”
What the hell?
“Can you share your location?” I ask.
“Uh, yeah.”
Her pause makes me sit up even straighter.
“Yeah, I think I can,” she whispers.
I wish I knew her better. Could read her better. Because right now, I feel like I’m in the dark, and after everything that happened tonight, it leaves me even more on edge.
“I just shared my location,” she breathes out.
“Good.”
“Dude, what’s wrong?” Griffin interrupts.
My gaze cuts to him, and I shake my head, silently telling him to stay quiet.
“Are you okay?” I ask into the receiver.
“Uh, I mean, yeah? I guess?” She sniffles again. “Honestly, I don’t even know.”
“Do I need to bring backup?” I demand as I get straight to the point and fish my keys from my front pocket.
She hesitates. “No. No, I’m all alone.”
“Got it.” I toss the defrosted bag of peas on the coffee table. “Stay here. I got this,” I add to Reeves and Griffin, then I’m out the door in a flash. “I’m coming, all right? Stay with me, Raine.”
“Okay.”
I keep the call connected through my Bluetooth, but we don’t talk. Not sure there’s much to say anyway. The asshole drove her into the middle of fucking nowhere, then left her on the side of the road. Who does that?
Fucking prick.
When a silhouette greets me fifteen minutes later, I let out the oxygen I’d been holding while Raine covers her face with her phone-free hand, shielding the bright lights from blinding her.
“It’s me,” I murmur, ending the call and pulling up beside her on the side of the road.
Without a word, she opens the passenger door and climbs in, folding her arms and using her hair as a shield to hide her from my view. She looks so small. I hate how she won’t look at me. Not like I’ve earned her trust or anything, but her silence is suffocating. I want to know what happened. How she wound up out here all alone. What he did. What they said. It’s none of my business, but I can’t stop the questions from filtering through me. One after the other. Leaving me on pins and needles as I squeeze the steering wheel. Taking a deep breath, I force my muscles to relax.
Giving her the side-eye, I finally ask, “You okay?”
What little light from the dashboard makes her green eyes practically glow as they flick toward me for the shortest of seconds before she looks out the passenger window, avoiding me at all costs.
“I didn’t know who else to call.”
Where’s her family? Her friends? Is she seriously all alone? I can think of a dozen people I could call if I needed someone, so what’s this girl’s backstory? And why do I even care?
I don’t know her. I don’t know anything about her. The only reason I know her last name is because I did some light stalking, and even that’s flimsy at best. But getting any answers out of her feels like a moot point. At least for right now. Still, I can’t stop staring. Even then, she doesn’t look at me. Doesn’t do anything but stare out the passenger window, probably wishing she could disappear.
“Seatbelt,” I remind her.
Her shaky breath greets me, and she reaches for the buckle, sliding it across her body and clicking it into place. That’s when I see it. The glimpse of her face. The swollen lip. The red cheek. The light from the dashboard acts like a flashlight, highlighting her bruised complexion.
He hit her again.
Mother. Fucker.
Without thinking, I shove the car into park and reach for her. It’s like silk. Her hair. Gently, I push it away from her face and inspect the damage. It’s starting to clot. Her bottom lip. But the flesh is still swollen and angry, proving it was quite the hit. My blood boils as I drag my thumb along the edge of her mouth, imagining all the ways I could kill him. All the ways I could inflict pain the same way he’s clearly done to her.
Slowly, Raine reaches up and grasps my wrist. My attention snaps from her cut to her pleading gaze.
“Please stop,” she begs.
“Stop what?” I growl.
“Stop looking at me like this. I don’t…I don’t want your pity. I don’t even really know you.”
“How many times?”
A divot forms between her brows. “What?”
“How many times has he touched you like this?”
Her eyelids fall. “Ev…”
“Answer the question.”
“Twice. Like this,” she clarifies, staring back at me with a glint of resentment. “Before then it was asshole comments and a random shove or rough grab, you know? Still unacceptable, but…”
“But easy to write off?” I finish for her.
She shakes her head. “I guess I was the frog.”
“What?”
“You know, the frog in the boiling water.” My frown deepens as her tongue darts out between her lips, and she winces. “Where the frog is put in a pot of boiling water, and it hops right out. But if it’s put in cold water, and the temperature is increased slowly, the frog doesn’t even notice and winds up dead.”
“I’m familiar with the metaphor,” I mutter.
“Of course you are,” she says with a pathetic laugh. Truth be told, it sounds a hell of a lot more like a whimper, but I keep the thought to myself as she adds, “I never thought this would happen. Never thought I’d be the girl in an abusive relationship. And I wasn’t. Not for a long time. I thought I knew better, you know? I thought I knew the signs. The red flags. And I did, but…it’s so easy to ignore them or write them off like you said, or…”
Unshed tears make her eyes glassy as she presses her fingers to her lips.
“Then Drake kept putting off meeting my family, and I moved in with him, and then his mom died, and he became super clingy and more controlling, and I thought…it’s because he cares. Because he’s afraid of being alone again or…you know.”
She blinks, and a tear rolls down her cheek. Angrily, she wipes it away. Like it’s a weakness. A glimpse behind the strong front she’s putting on. It makes me want to kill him even more.
Oblivious to my frustration, she sniffs and continues. “But, uh, then I tried to end things with him, and he hit me, and I lost my shit, and he promised it wouldn't happen again, and I reached out to Reeves and met you, and…I guess the rest is history.”
“Why’d you go with him tonight?” I ask. “After the fight.”
The same silence swallows my words. Or maybe it amplifies them. Turning them into something more. Something heavier.
She plays with her fingers in her lap, refusing to look at me. “Because it wasn’t your job to protect me. It still isn’t your job to protect me,” she whispers, though I’m not sure if the words are meant for me. “You don’t even know me.”
It isn’t the first time she’s pointed out how we’re practically strangers. She’s right, though. I don’t know her. But I don’t need to. Not to know she deserves more than being treated like shit. Besides, I have a sister, and if some asshole was treating her the way Raine’s clearly been treated, I’d lose my shit. Fuck, I’d kill him.
And for the first time since Reeves suggested I help him out, I actually want to. I want to help. I want to save her. Even if it backfires. Even if it blows up in my face. The idea of walking away. Of letting Drake touch Raine again. It’s unacceptable. All of it is.
“Come on.” I rub my thumb along her cheek, realizing how smooth her skin is. Then, I drop my hand and grab the steering wheel. “Let’s get you home.”
“I can’t go ho—” Her words die on her tongue as I make a U-turn and head back to my place.
I wait for her protest, but she stays quiet. Part of me wants to ask if she’d like me to take her to her parents or something. A friend. A distant cousin. But the other part? I guess I already know the answer. If she had someone else, she would’ve called them.
Instead? She called me. And she might only be a favor to Reeves, but dammit, I’m grateful.
Now she has someone.
She has me.
At least for a little while.