Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
I started my day by throwing up. I had dozed off around four in the morning and startled awake about an hour later with my heart pounding and fear and exhaustion twisting up my stomach to the point I had to run to the toilet. It took smoking three cigarettes, one right after another, to stop myself from shaking and settle my nerves. That, plus a whole pot of coffee to give me the energy to shower and get ready for school.
I didn’t bother doing my makeup or hair. I just put my red mane in a messy bun on top of my head. I literally grabbed a pair of jean shorts and a green top. The only thing I put thought into was my underwear choice. I picked my favorite Superman set.
I was tucking my anklet into my boot when I heard my front door open. “You ready, babe?” Colt asked as he came down the hall, toward my room.
I stood and grabbed my backpack. “Yeah.”
Colt appeared in my doorway. I gave him a small smile as I hung the strap of my bag on one shoulder. His eyes bounced all over my face.
“I know I look like crap,” I snapped before he could say anything and walked past him.
“Shiloh.”
Shiloh , not babe ? That alone told me I wasn’t going to like what he had to say.
I stopped walking in my living room. “Please, Colt,” I begged.
I felt him come up behind me. He wrapped one arm around me just below my neck and placed his other across my stomach. He pulled me until my back met his chest. “I don’t know how much longer I can stand back and watch this.” He pressed his lips to my temple. “I wish you’d talk to me.”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” I said, pulling away and opening the front door.
“Are you that much in denial or do you think I’m stupid?” he snapped, his voice taking an angry tone he’d used with others but never with me.
I turned to face him. “I don’t want to fight with you?—”
“I’m not trying to fight with you!” he bellowed, cutting me off. “I want you to fucking talk to me. You haven’t let Creed and I sleep over in almost a week. You’ve been pushing us away and lying every time we try to get you to talk to us. You. Are. Not. Fine. Stop telling us that. We can all see that you’re not and that something is wrong.”
I was so taken aback, I was at a loss for words.
He rubbed his hands down his face. “You’re not being fair. You’re making us watch you suffer and you won’t let us help you. How would you feel if one of us did that to you?”
He didn’t give me time to respond. He stormed past me and out the door, passing Creed, who I hadn’t known was standing on the porch. He had his hands stuffed in his pockets and he watched his brother pound down the steps and across my yard to his car parked in the street. Colt got in his blue Charger and sped off.
Creed sighed heavily. “We better get going or we’re going to be late.”
He wouldn’t meet my eyes. He didn’t offer words of encouragement. I didn’t know why I’d expected that—for him to coddle me. I deserved Colt’s anger. I deserved Creed’s frustration. I was a coward.
Creed didn’t speak to me the entire drive to school. He still walked with me inside, though. As we turned the corner in the hall, heading for Colt’s locker because that was where I’d kept my stuff since Cassy and her friends had graffitied mine, I slowed to a stop. Colt was at his locker, but he wasn’t alone. Amber was talking to him. She was smiling at him and flicked her platinum-blonde hair. Colt’s arms were folded over his chest and his polite smile looked tight.
Creed stopped walking a few feet after I did and looked back at me. Then he followed my gaze and saw what I was watching. He shook his head. “That girl really doesn’t know how to take no for an answer.”
Just as he said that, Amber put her hand on Colt’s bicep and moved closer to him. I dropped my backpack and my feet moved before I thought to move them. I stormed past Creed, my fist clenching at my side.
“Shi,” Creed said as if to stop me, but it was too late.
As I approached them, I cocked my arm back. Amber barely had time to notice me before my fist connected with her cheek. She shrieked as she fell against the lockers and slid to the floor.
Arms wrapped around me from behind and dragged me away. My legs gave out and whoever had me had to bear my weight. I numbly watched as people swarmed around Amber, who was cupping her cheek and crying on the floor.
What did I just do?
“You’re not going to offer me money to negotiate for a smaller sentence this time?” Principal Morgan said from where he sat behind his desk.
Mr. Morgan hadn’t asked me what had happened when he’d called me into his office. Instead, he had greeted me with, “So much for letting them dig their own grave.” Which I hadn’t bothered responding to. We’d sat in silence for a while. He’d clearly been pondering what to do with me. I, on the other hand, just wanted to get my sentencing over with.
I was leaning all the way back in my chair, had my elbow resting on the armrest, and was propping up my head with my fist. “I could, but I’m not going to.”
“And why is that?” he asked.
“I deserve to be punished.”
His eyes narrowed as he studied me for a moment. “Is there something going on with you I should know about? I know you lost your family and that would be extremely hard on anyone, especially someone as young as you.”
“No,” I answered curtly.
He nodded tightly, clearly not happy with me. “Effective immediately, you’re suspended for the rest of the school week.”
I stood from my chair and scooped up my backpack from the floor. I had forgotten I hadn’t driven to school until I walked out of Mr. Morgan’s office and saw Knox waiting. He was standing in the middle of the small lobby of the school’s front office, with arms folded over his chest and a clenched jaw. He was wearing his work clothes.
“I’m going to take you home,” he said.
I nodded and followed him out to the parking lot. The drive home was silent for the most part.
“Who called you?” I asked with my head leaning against the side window.
“Colt,” he answered. “He told me what happened and that even if by some miracle you got yourself out of getting suspended, it would still be best if you went home.” He glanced over at me. “By the looks of you, he was right.”
“I got suspended for the rest of the week.”
“Did you even try to fight it?”
“No.”
His hand tightened around the steering wheel. I could tell he wanted to say something, but he stayed quiet until he pulled into his driveway. We both climbed out. As I headed for my house, I dug my keys out of my backpack. Knox intercepted me. He snatched my keys from my hand and took my backpack from my shoulder. I barely saw him swoop down and grab me by my legs. My feet were lifted off the ground and I was being carried over his shoulder.
“Knox,” I grunted as I hung upside down.
He ignored me as he unlocked the front door of his house and carried me inside. He dropped my backpack by the small table just inside and tossed both of our sets of keys in the bowl. He took me all the way to his bedroom and set me on his bed.
Stunned, I watched him kneel in front of me and begin taking off my shoes and socks. He fiddled with my anklet. “On or off?”
“For what?” I asked.
He looked up at me. “You’re going to sleep.”
My panic spiked. “What?” I tried to scoot away from him, but he grabbed me by my ankles, holding me where I was.
“You’re going to sleep, Shiloh. Even if I have to hold you down.”
I shook my head. “I don’t want to sleep.”
“Why?”
I snapped my mouth shut.
He tugged on my anklet again. “On or off?”
“Why bother asking? It’s not like I have a say.”
“I recommend you get comfortable, because you’re not leaving this bed until you’ve gotten at least eight hours of sleep.”
I sighed frustratedly. “Off.”
He unclasped my anklet and stood to put it on his dresser. I reached behind me and under my shirt to unhook my bra, then pulled the straps off through the armholes and removed it entirely from the bottom of my shirt. I held my cobalt-blue and red Superman bra out to him. If he wanted me to get comfortable, I’d get comfortable.
He took it and tossed it on his dresser. I leaned back on the bed and unbuttoned my jean shorts and shimmied them down my thighs. His gaze followed my shorts as I pushed them down my legs. I kicked them off at the ankles and they flew in his direction. He caught them with a tight expression. I sat up to undo my bun and shake my hair out.
Knox set my shorts next to my bra. I froze when he undid his belt and toed off his shoes. I stopped breathing when he reached over his head and pulled off his shirt. I refused to blink as he unbuttoned his pants and stripped down to his tight, gray boxer briefs. He had a few tattoos. One on his hip that looked like script and another over his ribs on his side that was of a car engine wrapped in feathered angel wings. Beneath it was more script that I couldn’t read. I tried not to let my eyes drop lower. I tried and failed. As if drawn by a beacon, my gaze dropped and saw that his boxer briefs left very little to the imagination.
He put his hands on his hips and I knew I was caught. I blushed, my eyes traveling to his. He was frowning.
I rolled my eyes. “Like you didn’t get a long look at my vagina,” I muttered as I scooted back toward the pillows.
He opened his dresser and pulled out a pair of basketball shorts and a T-shirt. “I thought you wanted to pretend that didn’t happen.”
I climbed under the blankets. “You were giving me the shame on you look and needed to be called out.”
I saw the corner of his mouth twitch before he put his shirt on. “You could have averted your eyes.”
I scoffed. “ You could have averted your eyes in the kitchen.”
He put on his basketball shorts before climbing into bed next to me. “I guess we’re even, then.”
“We’re far from even. You saw everything. All your bits were covered.”
He smiled, shaking his head, and got settled under the covers. Silence stretched between us as we both lay there. I stared at the ceiling, fighting back my fear.
“Close your eyes, Shiloh.”
My hands fisted his white comforter. “I can’t.”
“Why?”
My forehead scrunched and I had to bite my lip to keep it from wobbling. I will not cry. I will not cry.
“Hey,” he said, grabbing my chin. He made me turn my head to face him. “Why don’t you want to sleep?”
I shoved his hand away and returned to staring at the ceiling. I couldn’t stand to meet his concerned eyes.
“Shi—”
“I don’t want to have a nightmare, okay?” I finally admitted. “I don’t want to see him. I don’t want to be trapped in that house. Every time I go to sleep, I’m forced to go back there.” I covered my face. “I can’t do it anymore.” My voice broke but I kept the tears back.
The bed moved before he shoved his arm under me and dragged me to him. “Roll on your side,” he ordered.
I did as he said and shifted so I was lying on my side, facing away from him.
He scooted even closer until his body molded against mine. He stretched his arm under my head and draped his other across my stomach. “Do you feel me holding you?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Do you feel safe?”
“Yes.”
“I want you to close your eyes, but when you do, just focus on me,” he said.
I hesitated.
“Close your eyes, Shiloh.”
I slid my hand into his, squeezing it tightly before letting my eyes close.
His hand that was resting near my stomach moved up to my head and his fingers began running through my hair. “You’re going to relax because I have you.”
“What if I have a nightmare?”
“I’ll wake you if you do, but try not to think about that. I just want you to focus on me,” he said as he continued to run his fingers through my hair. “Nothing can get to you while I’m holding you. No one can hurt you.”
I took a deep breath and relaxed a little as I exhaled.
“There you go,” he said. His fingers never stopped stroking and combing through my hair. I focused solely on the feel of them and how good it felt.
I quickly found myself on the edge of drifting off. “My mother used to run her fingers through my hair,” I said sleepily. She’d done it to calm me and it had always worked, just like it was working now.
I thought I heard him say, “I know,” just before I tumbled off the edge and fell into a dark pit of sleep.