6 Everleigh TV Screens—Somebody’s Child #3
The boom of Sterling’s voice seems to rattle the windowpanes. It’s biblical. Almighty. A thunderclap echoing over desolate mountains before the first hint of an avalanche arrives. Any evidence of the gentle man who coaxed me through a panic attack dissipates.
Smashing into his brother, Leo bowls him over with great effort to break up the beating. The pair topple into a nearby table, which promptly smashes, sending wooden shards and shattered glasses flying like grenades.
“Get off me!” Sterling drunkenly bucks, writhing to escape. “Fuck!”
“You can’t just go around attacking people!”
“He had it coming!”
Hand clamping over my mouth, I gasp at the sight of Leo decking him. For such open friendliness, he sure has a mean right hook. The delivery lands Sterling flat on his back.
“Stay down,” he warns, chest heaving.
Sterling twists to spit blood. “You still punch like crap.”
“I’m warning you, Sterling! You’re drunk and you’ve caused enough drama for one night.”
“You have no right to—”
“Please just shut up.”
A wince-inducing crack rings out when Leo hits him again, straight across the cheekbone. It’s a powerful blow. Strong enough to knock Sterling into a limp daze, the fight draining out of him.
“Get them out of here!” Cassidy’s yell pierces the haze.
Weaving through onlookers, Maverick grabs Andy by the scruff of his shirt and hauls him out of sight through the kitchen. I rapidly lock up the cash register, then duck around the bar to approach where Leo has Sterling haphazardly pinned.
“Leave. Now.”
Wheezing, Leo glances up at me. “We’re going. Can you give me a hand?”
“Okay, quickly. Cass is pissed.”
“No fucking shit.”
“On three?”
“Yeah, grab him by the waist once he’s up. I’ll pull.”
Hands hooking underneath Sterling’s arms, Leo heaves him upright. I move to take his left side, sliding my arm around his waist, balancing as much of his bulk as I can handle. Still Leo bears the brunt of it without complaint.
We stumble outside, leaving the sound of gossiping whispers and someone crying behind us. Sterling drags his feet, head hanging somewhat limp while he incoherently mutters under his breath.
“What was that, Sterl?” Leo hisses out.
“Son of . . . a b-bitch deserved it.”
“You just ruined the party because you couldn’t keep your crazy in check. How much did you drink? I’d expect this from Fletcher, but not you.”
“Where’s his truck?” I puff for breath.
“We walked,” Leo pants. “Hang on, let me text Fletcher.”
“Your roommate?”
“Yeah, he’s at home. Not much of a party animal these days.”
Absorbing the extra weight while Leo retrieves his phone, the proximity gives me an even stronger whiff of Sterling’s cocktail scent of vodka and whiskey. Something tells me it’s the reason we’re having to drag his backside along.
“God, he weighs a tonne.”
“Thanks,” Sterling grumbles.
“You also need a shower.”
“Anything else?” he slurs.
“Yes. Drunken brawling isn’t okay, regardless of the target or whether he deserves it. I’d consider that next time you decide to drink what smells like a whole distillery and trash a little girl’s celebration.”
He doesn’t respond, almost making me doubt my right to anger. After all, it wasn’t my kid’s birthday. Then the memory of Christopher returning from many a boozy fundraiser for his private clinic and unleashing his hatred on me makes my insides boil.
When I was necking glasses of Dom Perignon or popping sedatives to stave off a panic attack in front of his fellow vampires, I didn’t care how much he drank. It was the times I couldn’t escape into numbness that taught me how his love of humiliation worsened under the influence.
“Alright, he’s coming.” Leo angrily repockets his phone. “Set him down.”
“You don’t just want to drop him on his head?”
“Trust me, I’m tempted.”
We get Sterling lowered to the kerb, where he lolls forwards. I’m fresh out of sympathy until Andy’s cruel insult slices back through me. Widower. Suddenly the wedding band and house full of male roommates makes a lot more sense.
Angry, confusing, fiercely protective Sterling . . . lost his soulmate. Just like me, he’s alone in this life. You have to be an unhinged piece of work to think that’s an appropriate insult to hurl no matter the situation.
“What was that idiot’s problem back there?” My breath fogs in the air.
Leo taps his foot, casting a glare back at the pub. “Andy is a waste of space. He was a crap husband, and Sterling never liked the way he treated Cass. Even less during the divorce and in the time since. It’s a sore spot for him.”
“He’s close with Cassidy?”
“Grew up together like everyone else around here.”
“So I’m learning.”
Leo offers me a small, apologetic smile that softens his tired eyes.
“Small-town drama is complicated, Eden. Like I said, don’t get stuck here.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Then maybe you should listen to me.”
A speeding engine cuts through the chill, illuminated by approaching headlights. When Sterling’s red truck pulls up with a screech, the driver’s side window rolls down to reveal their white knight.
“Hey, Fletch.” Leo gestures to our passed-out oaf. “Give us a hand with this one?”
The door clanks open, unveiling two long, toned legs wearing form-fitting dark sweats. He’s built like a truck, much like Sterling, but the mysterious Fletcher wears his muscle as veritable chain-mail, each bulge padding out his limbs and perfectly curved rear.
Deep chestnut hair cropped short in a buzz cut sits above piercing jewels that gleam in the shadows.
His stare prickles over me for a couple of seconds.
It’s assessing, an icy slash of cold calculation in dazzling turquoise hues that only seems to highlight his slightly crooked but strong nose, firm cheeks, and thin lips.
As he silently crouches to tackle Sterling, I get a glimpse of angry, mottled skin stretching from the base of his throat to his jawbone and neck. My breath catches. The fresh scar tissue dips into his T-shirt, disappearing from sight, but the furious red hue is stark on his weathered skin.
Without a word, I drop my gaze from his scars. I’m not a doctor, but it looks akin to burn marks. The way his flesh is shrivelled and stretched tight over a gnarly mountain range hurts to contemplate. It looks excruciating.
“Eden, Fletcher.” Leo gestures between us. “And vice versa. He’s Sterling’s childhood best friend and our roommate.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” I offer to be polite.
My effort is in vain. Fletcher ignores me completely, plucking Sterling’s near-unconscious state up like he weighs little more than a feather. Leo doesn’t even have to help stuff the drunk fool into the passenger seat.
Still silent and scowling, Fletcher unceremoniously slams the door on Sterling to trap him inside. He hasn’t broken a sweat. Whatever caused his still-fresh scars doesn’t appear to have impacted his strength—each move is controlled, deft. Forged from power and endurance.
“He . . . ah, doesn’t really talk,” Leo hushes. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be. I should go back inside.”
“Thanks for your help, we’ll take it from here. I’ll let Cass cool off, then send Sterling to clean up his mess.”
“You think this will blow over?”
He summons a drained smile. “She’s forgiven him for much worse, I’m sure. Get some rest, Eden.”
Watching Leo clamber into the truck bed to ride back, I chance a look up at their stonily silent roommate. Fletcher pauses before climbing behind the wheel, scrubbing a hand over the back of his shaved skull like he’s desperate to say something . . . anything.
“Come on, Fletch.” Leo watches him worriedly. “Let’s get this asshole into bed.”
One foot on the truck’s step, Fletcher graces me with a singular look, intensified all the more by his silence. He drags a frosty diamond over me, tearing into my skin with each held syllable.
And he nods.
Saying more than words ever could.