Page 65 of Catcher

“The truth.”

“I can’t tell them, Catcher. They’ll worry. I can’t do that to them. Robby has put them through enough.”

The house comes into full view, and anxiety floods my chest.

He pulls into the driveway anyway.

“I can go in alone,” I press, panic scratching up my throat. “You don’t have to do this.”

Catcher kills the engine and turns to face me fully. “Ruby.”

The way he says my name makes me still.

“You don’t walk into this by yourself,” he continues. “Not anymore.”

“This isn’t your family,” I argue weakly.

He opens his door. “Doesn’t matter.” Then he pauses and turns his broad shoulders toward me. “Robby is your brother, but he’s also their son. I understand you want to protect them, but last night the situation with your brother escalated. They need to know.”

Before I can say another word, he’s already out of the car. As much as I hate to admit it, Catcher is right.

I sit there a second longer, heart racing, before forcing myself to follow. Catcher waits for me at the front of the car, his presence grounding even as it complicates everything.

My parents’ front door opens before I can knock.

“Ruby?” my mom calls, surprise lighting up her face when she takes in the looming presence next to me.

My dad peers out from behind her, eyes instantly darting to Catcher. My parents are well aware of my close connection to the Kings through my friendships with Promise and London. Neither has been judgmental nor raised concerns about the fact. But it is still unusual for one of the guys to be standing at their doorstep with me.

I swallow hard. “Hi.”

Catcher steps forward and extends his hand. “Catcher.”

My father blinks, then shakes his hand. “I’m Joseph. This is my wife, Caroline.”

“Nice to meet you,” Catcher says, polite but impossibly direct, as if he’s bracing for impact.

My mother’s gaze flicks between us, already suspicious. “Is everything all right?”

I force a smile. “We need to talk.”

Catcher’s hand lands at the small of my back. It’s light and protective but impossible to ignore.

Mom’s smile drops, and Dad stands a little taller. My mom doesn’t wait for an answer. She steps back immediately, ushering us both inside. Catcher and I follow my parents into the living room.

“Ruby, what is going on?” Mom steps closer to Dad, seeking his comfort like she’s expecting me to drop a bomb. Unfortunately, I am.

My dad puts his arms around Mom’s shoulder, but his eyes never leave Catcher. There’s already suspicion there, and I hate this. Catcher stays close behind me. Something about his presence is giving me the strength to say what I have to say.

“Ruby,” Dad brings me out of my wandering thoughts. “Start talking,” he says in his no-nonsense dad voice.

My throat tightens. I clasp my hands together to keep them from shaking. “It’s about Robby.” The name alone shifts the air in the room. My mom’s face softens with worry. My dad’s expression hardens instantly.

“What about him?” my mom asks.

I swallow. “He is… he’s in trouble.”

“That boy has always been in trouble,” my dad mutters.