Chapter 7 #3
Lucas stayed there for another second, his gaze lethal, before releasing the boy. He turned to Kayla, who looked eager for an argument until she glanced down momentarily at her half-naked chest. Kayla’s hands flew up to cover herself. She looked completely lost, her whole body trembling.
Lucas acted so quickly that it almost startled me.
He slipped off his flannel, wrapped it gently around Kayla’s body like a blanket, and pulled her close, his arm circling her protectively as though nothing else mattered.
He guided her toward the door, leaving the guy crumpled on the ground, still gasping for air.
“We’re leaving,” he commanded Jamie and me.
Jamie’s hand slipped into mine, his fingers firm and steady. “It’s okay,” he whispered. I hadn’t even realized my breath had caught in my throat, but his thumb brushed against my palm, grounding me. “She’s alright.”
I felt his other hand against my cheek, gently wiping away a tear I didn’t even realize had escaped.
I didn’t even know why I was crying. Everything happened so quickly; only seconds ago, we were all joking around, and then, in the blink of an eye, everything spiraled out of control.
What would have happened if Lucas hadn’t been there?
Would anyone else have helped Kayla? Would she have made it out of that closet?
Or would the party have continued uninterrupted, with everyone silently witnessing this assault?
My heart pounded in my ears, but the noise of the room was distant, as if I were underwater. Jamie’s hand stayed warm on my face. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”
He kept his arm around me as we followed Lucas, my legs shaking beneath me, the adrenaline pumping. We moved through the house, the party fading into the background like some distant nightmare, until the cool night air hit me, sharp and sobering.
Kayla wiggled out of Lucas’s hold, her bare feet stumbling on the grass as she turned her body to face the three of us. We didn’t say a thing. Six hundred thousand words in the dictionary, and not one of them seemed right.
“Stop looking at me like that! I’m not some damsel in distress.”
Lucas stepped closer to her. “Then stop acting like a spoiled princess in need of saving!”
Kayla froze at the intensity in his voice.
He lowered his tone, which was barely audible over the breeze that stirred the trees around us.
“Kayla, what’s going on?” His hands came up, gently resting on her shoulders.
She flinched at the contact but didn’t pull away.
Her eyes flickered up to his, tears clinging to her lashes, tracing silent paths down her cheeks.
Her lips parted, but no words came out. She closed her mouth, swallowed hard, and stared at the ground as if it held the answers she couldn’t find. Her hands fidgeted at her sides, fingers curling and uncurling around the hem of Lucas’s flannel.
Lucas waited, his gaze steady, never leaving her face. His grip on her shoulders tightened just slightly, a wordless reassurance, a silent I’m here.
Finally, she looked up, her eyes red-rimmed and glassy. Her voice cracked, barely more than a whisper. “She should’ve been here, Lucas … my mom … she should’ve been here.” Kayla’s face crumpled. “She should’ve been here to see my first day of high school.”
Lucas’s brow furrowed, and for a moment, it was like watching all the pieces of a puzzle click into place behind his eyes.
Without saying anything, he stepped forward and pulled her into his chest. Kayla collapsed against him, her arms wrapping around his waist, her body trembling with silent sobs.
Her shoulders shook violently as she clung to the front of his shirt, fingers gripping the fabric as though it were the only thing keeping her upright.
Lucas’s arms circled her fully, pulling her closer, his hand rubbing slow, soothing circles across her back.
He didn’t speak—he didn’t need to. He just held her, his chin resting on the top of her head, grounding her as her tears soaked into his shirt.
It made sense now, the reason she’d been spinning through the night like a hurricane.
I only knew fragments of the story. Kayla's dad needed to move back home to take care of his elderly mother, but Kayla's mom refused to uproot her life and follow.
That was the story they told everyone. However, one night during a sleepover at Kayla's place, I overheard him telling his mother that Kayla’s mom had left because of another man.
I watched Lucas hold Kayla as she cried, feeling completely useless.
This wasn’t just Kayla being a wild teenager or acting out for attention.
This was simply a young girl who missed her mom.
A young girl who had built her new life around pretending not to care that her mother wasn’t there, and now that facade was cracking, falling apart under the weight of what she wanted—her mom to care enough to show up.
Jamie moved beside me, his arm sliding around my waist. He didn’t say anything, but the way his hand rested on my side, the way his body leaned into mine, made me feel anchored.
He tugged me forward, pulling me into a hug, and before I knew it, all four of us were there, wrapped together in this tangled mess of arms and emotions.
I felt Kayla’s shaky breaths against my shoulder, Lucas’s hand still moving rhythmically along her back, and Jamie’s warmth pressing into my side, steady and reassuring.
Jamie glanced down at me. “Truce?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper.
“Truce,” I whispered back.
For a moment, none of the tension or fights from earlier mattered. It was just the four of us, and somehow, that was enough.