Page 140 of A Little Jaded
“What will you do? Huh?” Dodger demands. “What are you gonna do, Ev?”
A vein in Everett’s throat pulses as I stare up at him. It’s like he’s made of stone. But I know him better than this. Beneath the calm facade is a fucking hurricane, and it tears me to shreds.
“Ev,” I whisper. Or maybe I don't. Maybe the name never slips past my lips because my brother only barrels on, his upper lip curling in disgust.
“Are you gonna man up and protect my sister, or do I need to do the honors?” he growls.
The muscles in Everett’s hands flex as he glares at my brother. They’re still nose to nose. Chest to chest. “Says the guy failed to pick her up.”
“My bike had a fucking flat,” Dodger spits back at him. “And Pax was supposed to?—”
Pushing myself between them again, I face my older brother and rise onto my tiptoes, trying to close some of the distance between us. “Stay out of this, Dodge.”
He glares down at me. “No.”
“I’m serious,” I push.
“I won’t let?—”
“Do you wanna know why I didn’t tell you about all of this in the first place?” I ask. “Because of this. Because I knew you would be reckless and stupid and wind up sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.”
“You’re my sister!” he yells.
“And you’re unhinged if you honestly believe taking the law into your own hands is a bright idea.”
“Dodge.” Everett’s voice is low. Lethal. And manages to cut through the haze of fury clouding my brother’s judgment.
His focus snaps to Everett and he snarls, “What?”
Everett moves closer and wraps his arms around my shoulders, tugging me into his side as he holds my brother’s stare. “We’ll be in touch.”
There’s something about him. The way he’s looking at my brother. The way he’s looking in general. Almost detached. Deranged. Like whatever restraint he’s used to having has finally snapped, and if he was anyone else, I’d be terrified. “Ev,” I breathe out.
But he doesn’t look down at me. He only holds my brother’s stare and repeats, “We’ll be in touch.”
“Ev.” I tug on the collar of his bloodied shirt.
Tearing his attention from Dodge, he looks down at me, his expression softening. “Don’t worry, Stormie. I’ll keep you safe. Promise.” He presses his hand to my lower back, and the man I’ve fallen for rises to the surface. “Come on. Let’s get you inside and clean up before the police arrive.”
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
EVERETT
Fear. It’s a funny thing. The way it encapsulates you. Making it impossible to breathe, let alone think straight. I can still see him on top of her. Hunched over Stormie as she kicked her legs beneath him. Fighting. Clawing. Screaming.
Fuck, her screams.
I close my eyes and pull her closer to me, breathing in the scent of shampoo clinging to her hair. Griffin was smart enough to call the police when we were on the bus. After they arrived, we gave our statements. It only confirmed Dodger’s assumption. They’ll open an investigation, but we shouldn’t hold our breaths. It’s bullshit. It’s also the last fucking straw. I’m done. I’m done playing by the rules. Bending over backward to do this by the book when the book isn’t fucking working.
The EMT took a look at Storm’s injuries and insisted we go to the hospital. She’ll have a bruised tailbone and some cuts and bruises on her palms. She also has a bruised cheekbone from when he backhanded her, but otherwise? She should be okay…if you can call her long list of injuries the definition ofokay. Regardless, since it could’ve been worse—so much worse—the prognosis was music to my fuckin’ ears. As for me, I have a mild concussion and a nasty headache, thanks to Drake slamming a rock against my temple. They also looked at my hand, confirming what I already knew. A broken pinkie on my right hand and a few stitches from when Drake’s tooth sliced me. It’s worth it, though.
Officer McDonnell asked Raine if she wanted him to contact her parents. She agreed—surprising the shit out of me—and it took almost an hour of convincing until they finally let her out of their sight again. They wanted her to go with them instead of letting me drive her back to the cabin—to our place—but Raine wouldn’t budge, insisting all she wanted was to take a hot shower and to let me hold her. I had no problem obliging.
It’s strange. I never thought of the cabin as anything more than my childhood home. Now, though? Now, it’s different. Those walls hold more than memories of me and my sisters and my parents. Now, they hold memories of Raine, too. The firelight dancing off her bare toes and along the walls of our makeshift fort. The way she hunkers down on the couch with her notepad in her lap for hours. The pieces of dark hair clinging to the shower wall. They used to drive me fucking nuts, but now I can’t imagine a shower without them. Without finding one every time I step inside.
I tighten my arms around Raine, closing my eyes. Her hair is almost dry now. After we got home, I washed it in the shower and braided it, surprised the knowledge would come in handy. I make a mental note to text Hazel, my oldest sister, and thank her for teaching me how to do it. Honestly, I should thank all three of my sisters. And my dad. I should thank my dad, too. For teaching me how to take care of someone. How to look after and love someone. Because even though shit is far from over, my mind is clear. It’s like I wasmade for this. For protecting the ones I love, and despite carrying it like it’s a burden for so long, I can’t imagine how quickly tonight could’ve taken a turn for the worse if I wasn’t prepared. If I hadn’t already played out a million scenarios like I’ve done with Finley and my mom and Dylan and Miley and Hazel and Ophelia and Tatum. It makes me want to take all of them and hide them in a safe house somewhere. Away from creeps and assholes and stalkers and every other motherfucker who preys on women. Who thinks they’re owed anything for having a fucking penis instead of a vagina.
My stitches pull as I squeeze my hand into a fist whileBrooklyn 99plays on the television.