Chapter 35
Chapter Thirty-Five
LILY
The first thing I see when I pull into the parking lot where the grocery store and Wilson’s are, is Ronan.
His stance sets off alarm bells in my head—straight spine, squared shoulders, his entire body a live wire of tension.
Dan stands in front of him, too close, his lips twisted into something ugly.
Even through my windshield, I can read the threat in Dan’s posture, the way he’s leaning in, and crowding Ronan’s space.
My stomach flips.
I pull into the first spot I see, tires squealing slightly as I brake too hard. I’m out of the car before I’ve even turned off the engine, door slamming behind me as I break into a run. I dart across the wet parking lot, heart hammering.
“Stop it!”
But Dan is already moving. His fist swings, aiming straight at Ronan. I don’t even stop to think. I throw myself forward.
The impact is immediate. A brutal, cracking force slams into my face, snapping my head sideways.
Pain detonates through my skull, blooming sharp and nauseating, radiating from my nose outward in waves.
My knees buckle. My vision strobes white, then black at the edges.
The taste of copper floods my mouth, coating my tongue.
My breath stutters, and my ears ring. A distinct roar echoes in my head, blood rushing, panic clawing, a sensation similar to being thrown into ice water.
Blood runs hot down my face, over my lips, and drips from my chin.
Ronan collides with Dan so hard, it sounds like a gunshot in the parking lot. They slam into the side of a car, metal groaning under the impact, and the alarm shrieking. His fist smashes into Dan’s face, once, then twice. Cartilage crunches. Dan lets out a strangled noise, but Ronan doesn’t stop.
This isn’t a fight. This is annihilation.
Dan is already sagging, legs giving out, when Ronan hauls him up by his shirt and slams him against the hood.
He swings again, and there’s a sickening crunch.
Blood splatters across the car and Ronan’s arms. Dan chokes on a breath, blood bubbling from his nose and mouth.
Ronan bares his teeth, arm cocked and ready to hit him again.
Terror cuts through the pain. He’s going to kill Dan. Right here. In front of everyone.
I force my body to move, but everything seems slow, disjoined, like trying to wade through water. My lip throbs. My nose hurts. My cheek burns where the punch landed, a deep pulsing pain that promises bruises by morning.
Nausea rises up my throat.
“Ronan, stop!” My voice sounds weak, drowned out by the rain, the car alarm, and Dan’s groans. He doesn’t hear me.
Another punch lands. Dan’s head snaps back, hitting the hood with a hollow thud. His eyes roll. Voices rise somewhere behind me. Footsteps come toward us, but no one reaches him in time to stop the next punch.
I shove off the car, my entire body shaking, vision swimming, and grab at Ronan’s arm as he raises it again. My nails dig into his skin, desperate to get his attention.
“Ronan!”
His head snaps toward me. His chest is heaving, his face a mask of violence I’ve never seen him wear before. Blood is smeared across his hands and forearms, splattered on his shirt. His eyes lock onto mine, wild and dark, and empty of recognition.
For a second, he just stares at me blankly.
Dan groans beneath him, barely conscious, his face a mess of blood and swelling. Ronan doesn’t even glance down. His eyes roam over my face, from my bleeding nose to my split lip. His nostrils flare. The muscle in his jaw ticks.
“Get off him.” Someone shouts from the side.
Hands grab Ronan, dragging him backward. He doesn’t resist, but he doesn’t help either. His body moves with theirs, his eyes locked on me. A few guys haul Dan up, supporting his weight when he stumbles. More voices speak, someone demanding the police be called.
And still Roman stares at me. His fingers are curled into fists, the blood on them dripping to the ground.
Rain washes pink trails down his arms. He blinks once, twice, then wrenches himself free from the hands holding him.
Without a word, he shoves through the crowd, throws open his car door, and slams it shut behind him.
The engine growls to life a second later.
The tires screech against the asphalt as he peels out of the lot and disappears down the road.
I press a hand to my mouth, wincing at the pain.
My hands are shaking. My entire body is trembling so hard my teeth chatter.
The throbbing in my cheek, nose, and lip make it hard to think, to focus on anything but the searing pain radiating through my skull.
The pulse in my throat feels too fast, trying to claw its way out of my skin.
Blood drips steadily from my nose, running over my fingers, and soaking into my sleeve where I press it against my face.
Movement to my side makes me turn my head. Pain spikes through my skull, white-hot and blinding. A whimper escapes before I can stop it.
“Shit, Lily. You okay?”
I blink at the speaker, trying to focus through the pain. Mark Calloway. He was on the football team with Dan, back in high school. He steps forward, face creased with concern.
“I saw the whole thing. Dan swung first.”
Dan’s head jerks up. “Bullshit.”
Mark doesn’t back down. “You went for Ronan, and she stepped in. He was defending her.”
Dan spits blood onto the ground. “That fucking lunatic jumped me.”
Someone laughs from the side. “That isn’t what happened.”
More voices rise in agreement. A woman near the edge of the crowd shakes her head. “You hit her. We all saw it.”
Sirens grow closer, cutting through the rain and voices. Someone must have called the police.
Dan glares at me, one eye already swelling shut. “Are you going to back him up as well?”
I let out a slow breath, tasting blood. My lips feel swollen, stretched too tight. I’m scared to look and see how bad it is.
“I don’t need to.” The words come out thick. Speaking hurts my lip, and fills my mouth with fresh blood.
Dan curses under his breath, then straightens as best he can, jaw bruised and swelling. Flashing lights precede a police car, red and blue strobing across the wet ground.
One of the officers steps out, hand on his belt, scanning the scene. His gaze lands on me first, taking in the blood covering my face, shirt, and hands. “Are you alright, Lily?” It’s Officer Gardner. He’s come into the school more than once for various events with the kids.
I exhale slowly. “I think so.”
“What happened? Someone reported a fight.”
Dan starts to speak, but Mark steps in front of him. “Dan threw a punch at Ronan Oliver. She got in the way.”
The woman from earlier nods. “I saw it too. Dan was the aggressor.”
Gardner’s lips purse as he looks between them, then at me. “Where is Oliver now?”
I hesitate. “It wasn’t his fault.”
He studies me for a long moment, taking in my defensive posture, and the way I’m holding my face. “We’re going to need statements from everyone.”
Dan glares at me, wiping blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. “Why the fuck are you defending that asshole?”
Mark snorts. “Do you really think anyone is going to believe you over half the people here? I saw you go for him, Dan. He was staying out of reach until you threw a punch. You just didn’t expect Lily to get in the way of it.”
“For fuck’s sake, you know he fucking deserved it.”
“We can go downtown and take your statement there, if you’d prefer?” Gardner’s tone is flat.
Dan presses his lips together, wincing at the pain, but doesn’t answer.
I focus on breathing while the two police officers move through the crowd, talking to everyone.
My head throbs in time with each heartbeat.
The adrenaline is starting to fade, and with it comes a wave of nausea so strong, I have to close my eyes.
Cold sweat breaks out across my forehead. The shaking gets worse.
I don’t even notice I’m swaying until someone grips my elbow, steadying me.
“You need to sit down.”
I nod, but my legs won’t move. The scene wavers in and out—flashing lights, raised voices, rain falling steadily. Everything feels distant, muffled, wrapped in cotton.
Someone presses a bottle of water into my hand. I unscrew the cap with shaking fingers, but when I lift it to my mouth, the pressure against my lips makes me gasp. The water turns pink with blood.
“You need to get checked out. Someone called an ambulance.”
“I’m fine.” The lie is obvious, even to me.
Gardner comes over, notepad in hand. “Lily? I need to get your statement.”
I try to focus on his face, but my vision keeps blurring. “Dan … Dan swung at Ronan. I got in the way.”
“Did Ronan Oliver hit you?”
“No!” The word comes out fierce despite the pain. “Dan did. Ronan was defending me.”
He writes something down. “Do you know where Oliver went?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you know where he’s staying?”
I hesitate. “Cedar Street.”
More questions follow, but they blur together. My answers come automatically. Yes, Dan threw the first punch. No, Ronan didn’t start it. Yes, I’m sure.
When his radio crackles and he steps away to respond, I sway, the world tilting dangerously.
Two ambulances pull into the lot, lights flashing but no sirens. A medic approaches me, kit in hand, and guides me down to sit on the steps, so she can crouch in front of me.
“Let me look at your face.” Her voice is gentle. “I need to check if you’re going to need stitches.”
She tilts my chin up with gloved fingers, examining my nose and lip. Each touch sends fresh pain lancing through my skull. I taste blood with every breath.
“Your nose isn’t broken, but you’re going to have some significant swelling and bruises. Your lip …” She probes gently, and I flinch. “It’s split pretty deep. You might need stitches. Any dizziness? Nausea? Blurred vision?”
“Yes. All of that.”
She shines a light in my eyes, watching my pupils. “You need to go to the hospital. Possible concussion, and that lip needs proper care.”
“I can drive myself—”
“No.” Her tone is firm. “You’re in no condition to drive. We’ll take you.”