Chapter 13 #2
He’s going for placating, but the single tear clinging to my lashes isn’t getting the memo. If I thought it wouldn’t add to his plight, I’d fold him into the tightest hug.
A cough tears out of him, and when his hand presses more firmly to his stomach, my own lurches in response. “Fuck.” He staggers forward. “I might be sick.”
I’m hot on his heels, offering some leverage by holding onto his arm.
“What are you doing?”
His chin jerks toward a dented steel trash can half-swallowed by shadow near the curb. I let go. Seconds later, he’s hunched over it, shoulders shaking.
“Reese…” I flinch, helpless as the dry-heaving starts. The sound is awful, like it’s dragging up from somewhere deep behind his sternum.
“I’m fine.” He pants between spasms. “Why don’t you go wait for Carson up front?”
“No. I can’t leave you here. What if they come back? What if something happens to you? What if—”
“Brielle.” His knuckles are bone-white beneath streaks of dried blood. “Please.”
The lump in my throat swells until I can barely get it out. “Okay.”
Standing on the sidewalk, waiting for Carson, feels like forever stretched thin.
To anyone passing by, I probably look strung out. I pace circles, glance back continuously, and flinch each time the screen door clatters behind another stumbling partygoer.
I’m almost delirious by the time a truck finally, finally, pulls up.
It doesn’t so much park as halt, zero regard for the lines. The driver’s side door slams shut, vibrating in the space between stereo thumps, and then there’s Carson, striding toward me on rapid steps.
In the few seconds it takes to reach me, I know he’s read it all—the tremor breaking my grip around my midsection, the pulse running a mile a minute in my neck, the emotions rising like a tide I can’t keep down.
The streetlights expose every raw edge, even his eyes, where the grey’s gone, consumed by the dark swell of his pupils.
He stops just a few inches short of invading my space, and I can’t explain it, can’t even make sense of it, but something about the sheer solidity of him makes it easier to stand.
Until I meet his eyes.
They track across my face—left, right, back again—searching, searching, seeing more than I’d like. It’s the most vulnerable I’ve felt in recent times, like everything I’ve been hiding is about to be exposed.
I drop my gaze, unable to bear it. But the second I do, I catch his hands as they lift, twitch mid-air, then fall again.
That unfinished gesture yanks my eyes right back up.
“Are you hurt anywhere?”
It’s so low, but it’s all I hear. There’s no more music or hollering, just his voice curling around me like a tether.
“No,” I reply, even as a throb blooms under my eye. It’ll bruise soon, I can already feel it tightening, but that’s nothing. Not compared to Reese.
Reese.
I turn, heart already leaping ahead of me, but Carson doesn’t follow. Instead his hand clamps around my wrist, pulling me back into orbit. Wordlessly, he flips it palm up revealing flaking blood.
Reese’s.
It’s like a switch flips.
“What the fuck did you get him into?”
Gone is the tightly-reined composure, replaced by wild eyes and blame carved into every feature.
I rock back on my heels, stunned. “What?”
It’s a flimsy response, but it’s all I’ve got. He’s blaming me? That’s not fair.
He moves in, crowding my space in full this time. I half expect fear to spark again in the aftermath, but it doesn’t. Maybe it’s because his fury never translates to his grip; that remains gentle as ever.
“Didn’t I tell you to keep away?”
From coming to the party?
“You did, but I don’t see how—”
“You think I don’t know whose hangout this is?” His head tips, ire tunneling straight through me. “You dragged Reese into your mess, and now he’s hurt.”
Maybe it’s the adrenaline, but the first part barely lands. The second though? Loud and clear.
The implication strikes dead-centre and I hate how much it hurts. Hate that I’m not tucked behind my usual numbness. Hate that his words aren’t sliding off like they used to. Hate that my chin gives the slightest, stupidest wobble.
I do my best to steel it; I won’t cry. I haven’t in so long.
But the dip of his brows and the slackening of his grip tells me he sees the momentary break.
For a second, something touches his expression. Almost regret. Almost care.
But it fades just as fast.
“Where’s Reese?”
I turn again and, this time, there’s no resistance. His fingers are still warm against my skin, and I should pull free, but I don’t. Weak-willed, I let it linger.
He saves me from doing it anyway; the second we round the bend and spot Reese slumped by the trash can, he lets go like it burns.
My heart gives a hard pang at the sight, and I can’t even begin to imagine what Carson’s thinking—but I feel it. The surge of his energy spiking near frantic.
He’s at his side in a blink, assessing damage and murmuring words I can’t hear from where I stand frozen. That helpless ache swells in me all over again as I watch him haul Reese upright and shoulder his weight.
“I’m good, man.”
Carson’s jaw tightens, fierce enough I half expect to hear his molars crack. He doesn’t listen to Reese, only ups his pace.
I drift behind them, feet dragging, mind miles away. I don’t even notice I’ve stopped until Carson deposits Reese in the truck and scowls back at me.
“You coming?”
Maybe if he didn’t snap it, I would. But he does, and I’m fragile in a way I’ve been dodging for so long. One more remark from him might rip me wide open. I can’t risk it. I shake my head.
He stops, a dark sound dragging out of him. For a second it looks like he might actually toss me into the truck himself, his foot twitching forward, but the party roaring behind us stalls him.
His head shakes in what can only be described as a display of disgust. “Enjoy your party.”
Then they’re gone, the engine growling as the truck speeds off, leaving me here, out-of-sorts. The feeling only triples when I lock gazes in passing with a person coming out of the door. Dark hair. Tall frame. Eyes I know are green.
Carson’s venom echoes back, jagged in my head.
I grab my phone with shaking fingers and text Connor.
What’s your buddy’s name?
Each second drags until the reply lights up my screen.
Janson. Why?
I close my eyes. Was it my fault?