22. Isaac
Jace peeled out of here, pushing his bike to the fucking limit before we so much as had a chance to talk about what to do with our current situation.
It’s well enough; if he hadn’t gone to get her, Kol would have, and though he would have claimed it wasn’t for the same reason, he’d be lying.
Kol can hide and lie and curse her, but I see through him; I always have. You don’t grow up with someone, dependent on them to survive through the abuse of life and our father, to have a bond like ours and not learn them inside and out.
Honestly, some days I’m pretty sure I know my brothers better than I do myself.
That’s the only way to explain why I almost blew everything apart at the seams yesterday.
I’d been so close. The urge to fuck her right there in that changing room was so overwhelming, but more than that, I wanted to taste her. To press my lips to hers and have her melt against me.
Would she?
We might never know now, and that’s probably for the best, but I’ve never wanted anything more than I’d wanted to kiss her in that moment.
Disgusting.
“I want to know who he is,” Kol snaps, turning his phone my way to show me a picture of a guy. I don’t need to ask to know that’s who Zela is with; if his piss-poor attitude wasn’t enough to clue me in on the fact that she’s partially in the shot.
Nobody should be attractive with the way she dresses.
That’s the whole fucking point, yet I can’t stop the way my eyes eat up even that little glimpse of her.
I’d attempted to convince myself that this is our job. That as her ‘brothers,’ we’re supposed to look out for her and keep her away from boys that will hurt her. So why am I so eager to hold her close, knowing the three of us are probably the worst thing that will ever happen to her?
“Send it over,” I tell him, pulling my phone from my pocket just as it vibrates with his message.
It doesn’t take long. While Kolson paces like a caged animal, muttering and mumbling, I toss the photo into one of the many facial recognition programs I have, and his information pops up in just a few moments.
“Josh Williams, twenty years old, freshman in two of Zela’s classes,” I read aloud for him, and he freezes to listen.
“What the fuck could she possibly see in him?” he snaps before he’s once again pacing.
“Maybe a friend to study with?” I suggest, even knowing that’s not at all what it is.
Well, probably not, at least not with the look in his eyes as he no doubt looks at her. The picture is a candid one that someone probably snapped for Kolson and sent his way in a hurry, but there’s no denying that the look in his eyes isn’t just one of friendship.
I should know. It’s the same one Jace has had ever since she stabbed him, only less unhinged, more mushy.
The glare Kolson shoots my way lets me know he doesn’t believe me either.
The roar of Jace’s motorcycle interrupts whatever it was he planned to say, and without a word we’re moving. We make it down to the living room just as Jace all but drags her in, damn near kicking and screaming.
“Get the fuck off me,” she growls, shoving at his chest. Jace doesn’t seem the least bit put off; instead, he looks like the cat who got the cream.
He stops in front of us, swinging Zela around so that she stands between the three of us. Jace at her back, and Kolson and I in front of her.
Kolson moves in a flash, his hand snapping out to grip her face, tilting her head back until she has no choice but to meet his gaze.
“You're a DuPont now. You can’t just go slumming it up with whoever you want anymore,” he hisses, his lip pulling back as if just the thought leaves a sour taste in his mouth.
“I’m not a DuPont, I’ll never be a DuPont, and I’ll slum it with whoever. The fuck. I. Want.” Her eyes blaze as she holds his gaze, as if daring him to say otherwise. And if he doesn’t, I will.
“Wait,” Jace says, tugging her back a step, replacing Kolson's hand with his own to tilt her head so far up that it rests on his chest as she looks up at him. It doesn’t look comfortable, yet she shows no signs of discomfort. Though that might just be because she’s stubborn.
“You’ve slept with him?”
Well, that explains why they were back so fast.
I’d thought he left like that because he was upset about her clearly having a ‘study buddy’; turns out he was just happy to have a reason to get her. Or maybe he didn't like the idea of her being around him.
Either way, it turned out a lot less bloody than I imagined it would have been.
Zela doesn’t speak as she looks up into his eyes, but she doesn’t back down, and that’s answer enough.
One second, he’s holding Zela close; the next, he’s gone so quickly that she stumbles back a step before catching herself.
I don’t miss the way Kolson shifted as if he’d intended to catch her before playing it off as if he’d simply been adjusting.
“Where are you going?” Zela calls to Jace as he stalks toward the door, a new mission in mind now.
“Going back to kill him,” Jace calls back without missing a beat, and I’m not the least bit surprised.
Zela looks first at me, then at Kolson, as if she expects us to stop him, before she groans and runs after Jace.
“You can’t just kill him, Jace.” She runs around him, pressing her back to the door to stand between him and the exit as if there aren’t a dozen other options on this floor alone.
“Why not?”
“What is going on?” Patrick asks, coming down the hall with Mother hot on his heels, and Bella, of course.
“Zela is sneaking out to see a boy,” I answer before anyone else can and feel her glare as she all but burns a hole in the side of my head.
“Zela,” Patrick starts, but she isn’t hearing it.
“Don’t Zela me, Dad. First, I didn’t sneak out. I left out the front door to study with Josh! You know Josh.” Now it’s Patrick’s turn to frown. If I had to guess, I’d say he isn’t so fond of Josh either.
Noted.
“And besides all of that, I am an adult. If I want to go out at two in the morning and fuck Josh, I’m well within my rights to do so.”
The room falls quiet after her outburst, and I see the hint of a blush that colors her cheeks. I don’t think she’d intended to shout about who she’s sleeping with like that, but we’d pushed her a little too far, and she’s fraying around the edges.
“Zela, dear,” Mother says in that gentle tone of hers that has a way of disarming you, and I see Zela’s shoulders sag.
“I’m sure the boys are just looking out for you.
They want what’s best for you. They don’t want to see you get hurt or taken advantage of.
You're a beautiful young woman with a very good head on your shoulders, and while I know you’ve spent years with just the two of you, you're not alone anymore. We’re a family, and like it or not, having brothers isn’t easy.
They can be suffocating, trust me, I know.
But they're only trying to look out for you.”
Most of what she said was spot on, except for that bit about us looking out for her. If that were true, we would stay away, but that doesn’t seem like something any of us is willing to do. No, we're too far in now.
“Regardless of their worries, I need to study. I have finals coming up, and I can’t afford to retake a class.”
Wrong again.
“You can take that class ten fucking times if you want.” Kolson waves a hand in the air like it's no big deal, and Zela whips around to face him, shocked.
“I’m sure Isaac can help you if you have anything that’s giving you an issue, dear. He graduated from high school early and just earned his master's degree in technology management.” It’s impossible to miss the pride in her words and the smile on her face.
Zela looks at her, and I see some of her fight give way. If nothing else, she at least seems to respect Mother and like her well enough.
“I’m sure Isaac is plenty smart, Diane, but I have my own friends, and I’m not going to have them scaring them all away. I’ve done just fine this long on my own—”
“Fine? Really? That’s why you often come home with bruises and cuts.”
Zela’s eyes go wide as her attention snaps to Kol, who stands with his arms crossed, looking smug as fuck.
And why shouldn’t he? He’s just won this argument—unless she’s willing to out herself.
“What?” Patrick’s panic is palpable as he moves across the room and truly looks at his daughter.
Unfortunately, it’s been nearly a week, so most of her injuries have healed, but…
“She has a particularly nasty cut on her hand,” I offer and watch as his attention zeros in on the wrappings on her hand, and her wide eyes meet mine over his shoulder.
I ignore the pang of whatever it is that makes my chest feel tight with the clear betrayal I see there.
She knew better; we both did. One moment, a gift, a momentary truce, doesn’t erase years of loyalty.
Zela’s smart; there’s no denying that. She’d wrapped both of her hands to help give the appearance of her injury being a fashion choice. Between that and the frumpy sweater that she pulls down over her fingers, it’s no wonder it was so easily overlooked.
It’s less easy to hide when someone’s looking, though, and even if she didn’t have a mark on her, we’ve just changed the game because I’d bet very good money that Patrick will now be paying attention.
“The right one,” Jace says, and I don’t need to see his face to hear the smile that pulls at his lips.
She balls her fists and yanks away from her father, making him pull back and look at her in disbelief.
“I’m fine, Dad,” she insists, but her words are harsh and clipped and not at all believable.
I look at Kolson, who watches his handiwork play out, and I see the gleam in his eyes that tells me how happy he is with the outcome.
“Zela.” Patrick tries to reach for her, but she pulls back again, and he huffs before his face hardens, and I know it’s only about to get better for us.
“Fine, if you won’t even talk to me, then you leave me no choice.”
Patrick turns, looking at the three of us, and I swear I can almost see the hesitation on his face, but he pushes it aside.