Chapter 5
Ten Years Ago
"Truth or dare?" Hazel asks.
I debate for a moment, then say, "Truth."
Her lips twist. "Who do you have a crush on?"
I shake my head. "No one."
Hazel tilts her head and crosses her arms. "You're not allowed to lie during truth or dare, Willow."
"I'm not!" I insist.
"You are!"
"No, I'm not!"
She questions, "What about Brandon Murphy?"
I put my finger in my mouth and pretend to vomit, then declare, "He's gross."
"No, he's not," she says.
I wrinkle my nose. "Please tell me you don't think he's hot."
She shrugs. "He's all right. But I'm more into older guys."
My eyes widen. "Like who?"
She wiggles her finger in front of me, reprimanding, "Uh-uh-uh. You have to ask me the question."
I roll my eyes. Hazel can be a big pain in the butt. She's fun to hang out with most of the time, but she can sometimes be bossy and act like she's better than me. Right now, that's exactly how I'm feeling.
She fakes a yawn. "I'm getting bored."
"Truth or dare," I blurt out.
She leans forward confidently and states, "Truth," then smirks.
"Who do you think is hot?" I inquire.
"In this house?" she asks.
I cringe. "In this house?"
"Duh," she dramatically responds.
"It's only my brothers in this house."
"Well, Wyatt's here too," she points out.
My stomach flips. "Yeah. He's like my brother too."
Her lips twitch. "He's not mine. Neither are your brothers."
My gut stops flipping and starts to dive. "Eww."
She laughs. "Please. Grow up. Jagger and Wyatt are hot. So is Mason. But, honestly, I can't cross your older brothers off the list either."
My mouth drops open and I jerk my head backward.
She smirks. "Don't tell me you're going to be weird about this."
"They're my brothers. And Sebastian and Alexander are way too old for you anyway."
"Are they?" She squints.
"Yes."
She shakes her head. "No, they aren't. Any of them will do."
The sinking feeling pulls harder, and I think I might be swallowed by quicksand, but I can't help myself and ask, "Do for what?"
"Do I have to spell it out for you?" she scolds.
I stay quiet, wondering if I should answer her.
She continues, "To lose my virginity to."
"Eww!" I shriek, but I should have known. Lately, Hazel's obsessed about losing her virginity.
She rolls her eyes and rises. "There's nothing gross about your brothers or Wyatt."
"They're my brothers!" I argue again.
"And they're hot," she claims.
"It's not happening. Pick anyone else," I order.
Her eyes widen. "Sorry. I've decided it has to be one of them." She gets up and slinks over to the window.
My mouth goes dry, and my heart races. "Hazel, my brothers are off-limits."
She turns her head. "So you do think I have a chance, then?"
"What? No!" I cry out, feeling sick at the thought.
She spins, leaning against the window sill. "I bet I can convince one of them to take my virginity. The only question is when."
"Stop! You're just saying this to get a rise out of me," I assert, but my mind knows better. I've seen that look on Hazel's face before, and when she wants something, she'll stop at nothing to get it.
She snaps her fingers. "The perfect opportunity is almost here!"
"Did you just hear what I said?"
She smirks again, then sighs. "Willow, stop being a baby."
"You're out of line, Hazel!" I declare.
As if I didn't strongly object to her idea, she announces, "I'll give Wyatt my virginity next week at his eighteenth birthday party!"
My stomach pitches so fast, I put my hand over it and swallow down bile. "That's not okay, Hazel!"
"Don't be a Debbie Downer," she taunts.
Anger and a bit of fear wash over me. She's serious, and Wyatt...
Would he sleep with her?
Hazel's eyes brighten further, and excitement grows in her voice. "Unless you prefer I give it to Jagger? I can save Wyatt for yours? After all, we don't want sloppy seconds."
My breath catches in my lungs. I gape at her.
She holds her hands out. "Well? Do you want Wyatt for yourself?"
"Eww. No. Stop talking this way. I'm never sleeping with Wyatt, nor are you sleeping with him or my brothers!" I insist.
She snickers, then turns toward the window. She looks down and stills. "Well, well, well..."
My heart slams harder against my rib cage. I jump to my feet and race to the window, demanding, "What is it?"
"Looks like our boy has gotten into a bit of trouble," she states.
I glance at the yard and then swallow hard, feeling sicker.
Oh no.
Not again.
There's only one person who does that to Wyatt.
Blood stains his clothes. Two large rips slice across his T-shirt. A purplish bruise mars his cheek near a cut in his lip that's still bleeding.
Sebastian flies across the yard, yelling.
Wyatt closes his eyes, squeezes his red-laced knuckles, and winces. He takes a deep breath and slowly turns.
"Who did he fight?" Hazel questions, peering closer to the glass.
My insides quiver. I blurt out, "You have to go."
Shock fills her expression. "Why?"
"Sorry, but you have to leave," I reiterate, and move toward the door. Hazel's a big gossip. The last thing Wyatt needs is her running her mouth all over the high school.
"Stop being dramatic, Willow."
I whip open my door, square my shoulders, and lift my chin. "I'm sorry, but you have to go."
Rage fills her expression. She doesn't move.
"I'm not joking, Hazel," I assert.
She crosses her arms. "I don't have a ride."
"I'll find you one. One of my brothers—" I stop and take a deep breath.
She arches her eyebrows, and her mouth curls at the edges. She suggestively asks, "Which one do you want to drive me?"
"Wait here," I instruct.
"Where are you going?"
I exit my bedroom, shut the door, and rush down the hallway toward the muffled music. I open Ava's door, and she sings "Release me!" at the top of her lungs along with the new artist she's been listening to.
I turn the dial on her radio down. "I need you to take Hazel home."
She lifts her head from her college textbook and then turns it toward me. "Aren't you supposed to knock before you enter?"
"Please. She needs to go," I beg.
Ava's eyes narrow into those of my protective older sister. "Why? What's she done now?"
It's another thing about Ava. She doesn't care for Hazel, nor does Hazel care much for Ava. I'd normally keep them apart, but there's no way I'm letting Hazel ride in a car with one of my brothers.
"I can't get into it, but can you take her home? Please?" I plead.
Ava's eyes widen. She puts her book on the bed and grabs her keys off her desk. "Sure. But why don't you tell me what she's done."
"I will later," I lie, knowing I can't tell her what Hazel said. Even though I hate what she's insinuating, she's still my friend. I add, "Can you take her down the back staircase and out the kitchen door?"
Ava studies me closer. "Why?"
My insides quiver harder. I lower my voice and admit, "Wyatt's outside with blood all over him."
The color in her face drains. She squeezes her eyes shut, shakes her head, then sighs. "No problem."
"Thanks."
"Sure," she says, then marches past me, down the hall, and opens my bedroom door.
"Where's Willow?" Hazel snaps, but I don't bother to return to my room. My sister will handle it.
I take three steps, and Ava directs, "Get your stuff. I'm taking you home."
Hazel's muffled objections get quieter as I reach the bottom of the staircase. I step onto the wooden floor, and the front door opens.
"Dad!" Sebastian roars, pushing Wyatt inside.
My pulse throbs in my throat, as if trying to claw its way out. I grip the handrail, squeezing the oak so hard, it hurts.
Wyatt's swollen cheek hides his dimple and sharp jawline. His eye above it can barely stay open.
"Are you okay?" I fret.
"Willow, not now," Sebastian commands, then hollers, "Dad," in a rougher tone.
I lower my voice. "Wyatt?"
He slowly moves his head, peeking at me from under his cowboy hat. He strongly asserts, "I'm fine, Willow."
"You're not," I argue.
"Willow! I said not now. And go upstairs," Sebastian orders, warning me with his expression not to speak again.
"What's all the shouting for?" Dad asks, stepping into the hallway, then freezes.
A moment of tension fills the corridor. I ignore my brother's orders, trying to breathe, unable to take my gaze off Wyatt's bloody face.
Dad's words come out raw, stripped of warmth, and coated in steel. "What happened?"
"I'm fine," Wyatt declares.
"Like hell you are. Now, don't lie to me, son. What happened?" Dad demands, the weight of previous battles heavy in his question.
"Sir, I'm fine. Can I get cleaned up?" Wyatt asks, his tone begging for Dad to drop it.
Sebastian exchanges a glance with Dad.
He steps closer and removes Wyatt's cowboy hat.
Wyatt turns his face toward the wall, full of shame.
Dad lowers his voice even further. "Look at me, son."
Wyatt's chest fills with air. He slowly lifts his chin and stares into my father's eyes.
"Why were you there?" he questions.
Wyatt answers, "I went to get the rest of my stuff."
Dad asks, "Why didn't you take anyone with you?"
Guilt, self-loathing, and disgrace take over Wyatt's features. His jaw tics, and he clears his throat. "I'm eighteen next week, sir."
"Yes, we're all aware. What does that have to do with this?" Dad inquires.
Humiliation blooms over Wyatt's cheeks. He takes three short breaths, then stands taller. "I'm a man now. I should be able to handle my own affairs without involving others."
The air stretches tight until it's about to snap, with Dad keeping his gaze pinned on Wyatt's.
Dad finally says, "I see."
More silence coils in the hallway.
"I'm fine. Please forget about this," Wyatt implores.
"Like hell I will. Sebastian, grab the shotguns," Dad instructs.
"What? Dad, you can't kill him! You'll go to jail," I shriek.
He turns to look at me. "Why are you lurking in the background?"
Jagger steps inside, booming, "What's going on?"
Sebastian answers, "Come get the shotguns with me."