Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
Christian
“Get in, asshole.”
That’s all I say when he steps through the door.
Devon freezes under the humming lights, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his hoodie. His eyes jump from Logan to Owen, then finally to me. Somehow, he looks thinner than he did just three days ago, covered in bruises and rough stubble under his jaw.
For a second, I almost forget I’m mad. Almost.
He hesitates, attention darting toward the sidewalk like he’s planning to run. “You didn’t have to come.”
I jerk my head toward the car. “Let’s go.”
He just sighs and drags his feet toward us like one of my younger sisters throwing a fit. The second he slides into the back seat with me, stale sweat hits my nostrils. Jesus, when was the last time he showered? I crank down the window before Logan even starts the engine.
“So,” I say once we're leaving the parking lot. “Selling coke, huh?”
“Wasn’t what it looked like,” Dev mutters.
I snort. “Bullshit.”
Bloodshot eyes glare at me in the darkness. “You think I wanted this?”
“I think you wanted something.”
“Christian,” Logan warns softly, meeting my gaze in the rearview mirror.
I bite down hard on the inside of my cheek and focus on my breathing.
Logan’s pretty pissed about us keeping him in the dark.
According to his fucking calculations, five grand was nearly everything we had in the rally budget for January.
Fucker is absolutely livid at me, but I'll make that back easy once I get my shit together.
I just need to start posting before my sponsors all drop my ass. It'll be fine.
It's fine, it's good. We got this.
“You’re lucky Logan picked up the phone,” I growl after a while, still fuming. “How the fuck do you get into so much trouble, anyway? We're in fucking Utah, pendejo.”
Devon leans his head against the window. “Trouble finds me.”
Anger ignites beneath my skin. “No ‘thanks’ or nothing, huh? Nice.”
“You think you’re some fucking saint?” he scoffs. “You’re the one who jumped into that bar fight, man. I didn't force you.”
“Because I was defending you and Logan’s boyfriend. What were you doing? Getting high?”
Dev's attention snaps to the guy in the passenger seat. “Boyfriend? What happened to Salem?”
Logan’s fingers tighten around the steering wheel. “She’s still my wife,” he says evenly. “We’re non-monogamous.”
“Wow. Really?”
“Don’t,” I warn, my fists clenching.
Devon leans forward between the seats to study the couple. “What, so sleeping around is cool now? But when I did it, everyone had a fucking problem?”
“Devon,” Logan barks, but the asshole just keeps talking.
“How’s that work, anyway? Wife on one side, boyfriend on the other. What happens when they both want you? Is it just one big fuck fest?”
Snatching his hoodie, I yank him back into his seat. “You'd better shut your mouth before I shut it for you.”
He sneers in response, more like the Dev I've come to fucking hate. “Yeah, and how you gonna do that, hot shot? Kiss me?”
“I'd rather crash my bike and kiss the asphalt than your mouth, motherfucker.”
Devon immediately clams up. Whatever weak light that had been in his eyes winks out, replaced by something dull and hollow. Silently, he throws his hood over his greasy hair and stares out the window.
It takes me longer than I care to admit to realize what I said.
Crash. Kissing asphalt—the very thing he and Logan did after I caught Devon fuckin Arya. They both almost died that night. Shit, Logan did die. His heart stopped beating.
Goddamn, this asshole brings out the absolute worst in me, I swear.
Nobody says anything for a long moment. The only sounds are the hum of the tires and the squeak of the windshield wipers.
Logan’s the one to finally break the silence. “Where are you staying, Dev?”
There's a brief, heavy pause. “Nowhere.”
Logan glances at him in the rearview mirror, brows furrowed. “Nowhere?”
“Got kicked out of the motel. Arnie owns it, so if he sees me back there…” Dev trails off, shaking his head. “Doesn’t matter. I’ll figure something out. Drop me anywhere.”
A cold dread settles in my gut. You'd think I'd feel vindicated at that, but all I feel is sick. “You can stay at my place,” I grumble.
Logan’s wide eyes meet mine. “Christian, are you sure—”
“Just until he gets back on his feet. That's it.”
Dev slowly turns his head toward me. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I know, but I’m doing it anyway. Now shut the fuck up.”
The rest of the drive is silent, except for the constant thud of my heartbeat in my ears and Granite by Sleep Token playing softly on the radio.
Every second stretches on until my own thoughts are louder than the sound of tires on the road.
Fuck, it feels like my chest is caving in.
The last thing I wanna do is have a damn junkie on my couch.
Okay, maybe that's a bit harsh. Taylor was an alcoholic once, and I still moved in with him. But that was Taylor. He’s my ride or die for life. Not some asshole who slept with my girl and almost killed my roommate. So why the hell did I just offer? Dios mio, my fucking head hurts.
When Logan finally pulls into the driveway, I’m out of the car before it even stops rolling. I need air. I need distance. I need to get the fuck away from everyone and just breathe.
All this pent-up energy, but no way to release it.
Well… There is one way.
Grabbing my phone, I pull up my contacts and type out a message before starting down the sidewalk, wishing I hadn’t left my Bronco at Taylor's.
“Where are you going?” Logan calls, but I don't slow down.
“Out.”
“Out where?”
“Gonna get laid,” I throw over my shoulder, shoving my hands into my pockets. When I glance back, Owen and Logan are gazing after me with worry written all over their faces. Devon's is unreadable.
I just wave a lazy goodbye and keep walking, night air cooling the sweat on my skin. No clue where I'm going, or where I'm ending up tonight.
But anywhere's better than home.
I get a few blocks on foot before headlights flash across my boots.
A beat-up Honda Civic comes to a stop beside me, bass thrumming through the speakers. The window drops, and my little brother Carlos leans across the passenger seat with his thick brow furrowed. “Yo, it's cold as fuck out here.”
“Tell me about it,” I mutter, yanking open the door to slide in. Stale fast food hits my nostrils.
“So, what happened?” He throws me a wide-eyed look before pulling away from the curb. “Why you needing a ride in the middle of the night? I have midterms tomorrow.”
I take in his messy hair and pajama pants. “Sorry, hermano. Had no one else to call.”
Ain't that some shit? I have a whole gaggle of friends, and yet I made my baby brother leave his dorm at midnight to give me a ride.
Okay, Logan probably would have done it if I asked, but I'd rather be a moody bitch about it.
“You in trouble or something?” Carlos asks, merging onto the freeway.
I shake my head. “It’s not like that.”
“Then what’s it like?”
Staring out the window, I watch streetlights smear across the glass, brainstorming ways to come up with five thousand dollars. “Just… business stuff. Don’t worry about it.”
My brother hums, clearly not buying my shit. “Business stuff? At midnight?”
“Jesus, chill. It’s nothing criminal.”
“That’s exactly what a criminal would say.”
I huff out a laugh, even though nothing about my situation is funny. “You’re not a social worker yet, man. Stop treating me like the bad guy.”
“Well, somebody’s gotta keep your dumb ass on the straight and narrow.”
“Good luck with that.”
We lapse into silence for the rest of the drive.
City lights flicker past, some song playing low over the hum of the engine.
My thoughts keep looping back to the same nightmare—Arnie’s grimy face, Devon getting the shit kicked out of himself.
Then he disappears, only to end up in jail. What the fuck is wrong with that guy?
Clearly, he needs help, but if I know Dev, the asshole is too proud to ask for it, which is complete macho-man bullshit. We all need help sometimes. So what's his deal? Calling Logan to bail him out was no problem, but I hate how much it pisses me off that he didn't call me.
Is that it? Specifically needing something from my ass is where he draws the line?
When we finally pull up to my Bronco, Carlos lets the engine idle for a beat before he says, “So what’s really going on? Anything me or Mom can do?”
“Just… fell behind on something. Trying to get it squared away.”
That's all I'm willing to say. Like hell I'm involving him or anyone else in my bullshit. Jesus, it's his first year of college. He doesn't need to worry about anything other than keeping his grades up.
“You sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah.” I reach for the door handle and force a grin. “Good luck tomorrow. Don't flunk.”
“Christian.” He’s still watching me with those hazel eyes we share, one hand loose on the wheel. “You don’t always have to keep everything to yourself, you know.”
Something sharp twists inside my chest, but I don’t address it. Nodding, I get out of my brother’s car. “Night, bro.”
“Night. Don't forget about the party next week.”
“I won't.”
He waits until I’m unlocking my Bronco before driving off.
Taylor's porch light clicks on as cold October air chills my skin.
I stand on the curb for a minute and stare at the night sky, arms crossed to keep warm.
I could probably go up there and knock. Bet Salem's still in there, chilling with him and Huck, watching movies or some shit. Bet they'd love it if I came inside.
Instead, I end up sliding into my Bronco to rest my forehead against the steering wheel.
All of my friends are happy and in love. For once in fuck knows when, no drama or trauma is happening around us. Don't get me wrong, I'm happy as shit for everyone, but part of me feels… useless.
No Taylor to keep an eye on, no Xed or Matty to check in with. Not that Salem ever needed a shoulder to cry on, but I miss her showing up at the apartment to rage about men while she made business plans for us.
Now it's just me.
Well, Devon and me.
That fucker needs serious help, but he ain't getting it from me. I stuck my neck out for him once by agreeing to let him come on our tour last year, and look how that ended up. Nope, I'm staying clear of that fucking asshole forever.
Right?
“Yeah, right,” I tell myself, throwing the Bronco into drive before heading toward the Prospector.
Booze and women—that's all I need to get me out of the funk I'm in. Once I get properly fucked and fucked up, everything will make sense again.
I just need to keep telling myself that.