Page 6 of Her Greatest Mistake
“I smashed it.”
“You smashed it?”
“Yep.”
“Why?”
“I just did.”
I halt on the sidewalk a few yards from the truck, my mind reeling. Noah notices I’ve stopped walking and turns to face me.
It’s my first real look at him since he popped up beside me, and the distant look in his eyes makes my heart ache. His black hair is long, curling at the ends that brush the sides of his tattooed neck. It’s pushed back and out of his face by a white checkered bandana. There’s a slight flush to his cheeks, and his eyes are bloodshot.
“What are you on right now? Are you drunk?” I ask.
He stares at me, unblinking. “I never asked you to come here.”
“Don’t start, Noah. If you start this conversation right now, you won’t like how it ends. Tell me what you took.”
Finally, he blinks. “Our sister worries about me too much. She shouldn’t have told you anything.”
“She’s eighteen, Noah. The last thing she should be worrying about is her brother getting fucking stabbed in some shithole bar because he’s gotten high and picked a fight with the wrong person. What did you expect her to do when you called her for help at two in the morning?”
My pulse is racing, straining against my throat. This isn’t normal. This isn’t what should be happening to my brother. How did we even get here?
“I never asked her for help. I only called to tell her I was coming home. She texted me too many times tonight asking if I was okay, and I wanted to settle her.”
“If that’s the case, then you’re an even bigger fucking idiot than I thought. She knew something was wrong the minute you called her. Now, get in the truck. We’ll talk about this in the morning.” I press the button on the key fob, and the truck’s headlights flood the street.
“I smoked pot, and I’m a bit drunk. But I’m not an addict. The hard stuff doesn’t appeal to me,” he says. In a swift movement, he pulls a small baggie from his pocket and shakes it between us. A dark green, herby substance jumps around inside.
I shove my hands in the pockets of my jeans and lean back on my heels. He seems sincere, so damn sincere. I’ve never seen my brother take hard drugs, but hanging out in places like this and making risky choices . . . it makes it hard to believe him.
Noah has always been quiet and reserved. He wasn’t a happy kid, and he only got worse when he hit puberty. I’ve seen him smile a handful of times in my entire life, and not one has been aimed at me.
“Put that away. And I’m trying to believe you, Noah, but fuck,” I manage to say.
He puts the bag back in his pocket. “I was here for a gig.”
“Addie told me.”
He darts his eyes to the opposite side of the street. “It went fine. I hate it here, but it was a gig.”
I nod. “Why did you smash your guitar?”
Suddenly, he’s staring at me again, more focused than before. Fear flashes across his face when his eyes travel to the street behind me, and a feeling of desperation floods my system. I don’t want him to close himself off from me right now.
He shakes his head, narrowing his eyes on something behind me. “Let’s go.”
“Tell me why you smashed your guitar. Please. Don’t shut down now,” I beg.
“Get in the truck, Dox. Now,” he snaps.
Confused at his change in demeanour, I turn to follow his line of sight and curse under my breath.
There’s a Hulk-sized man storming toward us, his snowshoe-sized hands balled into fists and long blond hair blowing in the breeze like a goddamn supermodel. One look at the fury on his face is enough to have me making a beeline for the driver’s side of my truck.
“Noah Hutton!” the Hulk-man growls, his voice suddenly too close for my liking.