4
Sometimes, one little text message is all it takes to ruin a whole week. In my case, that message came from Nate and simply said: Look, I really like you. I do. But why would I pick you when I wouldn’t even have time to break you in before I leave?
Yeah, he’s an asshole. I knew that already. I honestly don’t even like him all that much, but he’s my ticket out of Cape Frost. Freshly graduated with a football scholarship to some university far away, he’s the best chance I have of ever escaping this place. I’m rapidly running out of time to hook him.
So... maybe I need to bend the rules a little bit.
I’m midway through an absolute lie of a response when I hear Hayes’ stupid black Camaro pull into the driveway. He thinks it’s so cool because it’s a ‘69, but I think it’s as overrated as he is.
Scowling, I toss my phone on the couch next to me and stand to go tell him to go to hell, but when I open the door and see him supporting my limp brother, all of that anger vanishes.
“What the fuck happened?” I screech, moving aside quickly to make room. “Hayes, what—”
“He’s fine,” he grunts, laying him on the couch with a thud. “Got the shit kicked out of him, but luckily I drove past the alleyway he was taking a nap in. Wake up, Boo.”
He slaps his cheek softly, which already looks about three shades of purple.
“Don’t hurt him,” I rush out, trying to figure out where to start patching him up.
As he stirs, I notice how swollen his eye is, the cut on his chin, the blood on his clothes.
“Move,” he grunts, trying to get up once he gets his bearings. “Those motherfuckers are dead.”
“Not today,” Hayes replies, grabbing both of his shoulders to lay him back again. “Running out half-cocked is what got you here. ”
“Never done anything without a full cock in my life, now get out of my fucking way,” he grunts, wincing in pain almost immediately. “God damnit. Fucker broke my rib, I think.”
“So you can get them now, right?” I ask quickly. “Legally, I mean. They assaulted a police officer.” Suddenly, it occurs to me that he’s probably covered in evidence. I’m no expert, but all those documentaries Hayes judges me for watching have taught me a few things. “Wait here.”
Rushing into the bathroom, I dig through the two junk drawers until I find what I’m looking for. Tweezers, q-tips, band-aids, and what’s left of our antibiotic ointment.
My next trip is to the kitchen, where I grab the sandwich baggies out of the drawer.
Arms full, I return to the living room to find them both staring at me like I’m nuts. “What?” I ask. “We need the evidence he’s got all over him if he wants to put them away, right?”
“Chain of custody, Sammy. It doesn’t work like that. There are protocols in place.”
“Not one thing you collect will hold up in court, Samuel. None of it. ”
Hayes frowns at me like I’m stupid, but I won’t let him get to me.
“So why isn’t he at the fucking hospital then?” I ask. “Or at the station where the right people can take these samples? You brought him here which isn’t any better, at least I’m trying.”
“I took him where he asked me to take him,” he argues. “He didn’t want to go to the hospital.”
“I’m fine!” Boo yells, but he isn’t fooling anyone, even those two words are laced with pain.
But yeah, me not doing things exactly by the book is the problem.
“So what’s your plan, then? You have a chance to put them away and you’re blowing it.”
“Just shut the fuck up, okay? Hayes, get her out of here.”
“You heard him.” Hayes tosses me over his shoulder like I weigh nothing and carries me to my bedroom. “For once, don’t be so hard headed. Let me fucking deal with him.”
He drops me onto the bed ungracefully, nearly knocking the wind out of me. “Fucking hell, Hayes. What do you think I’m gonna do? I just wanted to help.”
“Yeah? You want to help? Don’t move. ”
He slams my door behind him, and for the first time in my entire life, I listen.
I don’t know what Boo thinks he’s doing, but with The Sons involved, I can’t imagine it’s anything good.
Far be it from me to make it worse.
––––––––
It takes almost two hours for Hayes to come back. His expression isn’t any less grouchy than it was the last time I saw him, but now there’s a level of exhaustion and some bruising under his left eye I didn’t notice before. “You can come out now.”
“What happened to you?” I ask, standing quickly. “Did they come here?”
“No.” He looks away. “I saw one of them before they ran off earlier.”
That means not only did my brother stay here to clean off all of the evidence, he also has an eye witness he doesn’t have any intention of using.
What the fuck is going on?
“Hayes, I know you hate me, and I get it. Okay? I do. But tell me why the hell he’s been gunning for these guys for months and now he’s letting them go.”
There’s a split second where I actually think he considers opening up to me, but that insane thought is gone in a flash. “It isn’t my truth to tell. Go ask him.”
He nods toward the living room before leading the way out there, then takes a seat on the recliner as I stare down at my patched up brother. I don’t know how the fuck I’m supposed to ask him anything since he’s clearly been asleep for a while.
“Okay. What exactly happened to your eye then?” I ask again.
Sighing, Hayes slouches down in his seat like he doesn’t plan on going anywhere else tonight. “I just told you. I saw one of the guys standing over Boo when he was knocked out. Did you think I just let them walk away without breaking their nose?”
“Stop trying to make me feel stupid. You didn’t say you fought him, you said you saw him. Though I can’t say I’m terribly upset someone finally punched you in the face.”
He tosses me a ridiculously fake smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah, I’m sure. If you go to the grocery store, they might have video surveillance for you to jack off to. It happened near their dumpsters.”
And now we’re adding video surveillance. None of this makes any sense at all. “Okay,” I say flatly. “You should ice your eye. ”
“You should ice yours. More nightmares?” He tilts his head at me inquisitively, and then smirks at the fact that I have bags under my eyes. “Was I in them?”
Maybe one day it’ll be his body that ends up in the river. Maybe I’ll be the one who puts it there. “Not even my subconscious wastes time thinking about you, Sarro.”
He snorts like he can read my mind. “Yeah, whatever. Boo’s gonna be okay and I’m not going anywhere tonight, so you can call your boyfriend if you want to go out.”
I’d fake it if it wasn’t so fucking cold out there. “I’m not leaving my brother. Sleep wherever you want as long as it’s not in my bed.”
“Aw, so we’re pretending you didn’t play DJ Samara while you inhaled your pillow the second I left? Alright.”
“There’s no pretending involved. If I wanted to make myself throw up, there are easier ways.” Waving with a smile almost as sarcastic as his was, I spin fast enough that my long hair flies over my shoulder and flip him off on my way back to my room.
Shutting the door, I lock it for good measure and roll my eyes when I see the pillow in question. I’ll die before I ever tell him that everything smelled like him after he left, or that I had a dream he was actually nice to me for once. It wasn’t even a sex dream. He was just not an asshole.
I’ll also never tell him that knowing he’s in the house helps me actually get some sleep for once. If he’s willing to start shit with The Sons to protect my brother, he’ll protect him if they show up here.
And by proxy whether he wants to or not... he’ll protect me too.