Page 48 of Give Me Peace

I swear, every monotone word Havok utters sucks a little more oxygen from the room. By the time he finishes, I can barely breathe. We never brought up the specifics of what he said that day. It was crass, and at fourteen I’d just been grasping sex as something more than a means to procreate. And now they all know.

“You’re fucking dead.” I watch, completely frozen, as Roan slams his fist into Havok’s face. It happens so fast; I couldn’t have stopped it if I tried. He staggers, then drops to his knees, not once trying to fight back or even get away. Roan lunges forward, grabbing him by the neck of his shirt, and yanks him back to his feet. “Stay the hell away from her. Do you hear me?! You don’t touch her you piece of shit!” I jump to intervene, my feet finally unsticking themselves from the floor as my brain comes back to life.

“Stop! Stop..it.” Tears are pouring down my face as I wedge myself between them. “You have no right! We’ve moved on. He apologized and I accepted. You don’t get to hit him. Who gives you the fucking right?” I’m screaming, words flying from my mouth so forcefully it makes my voice crack. “No one deserves to be hurt out of anger. You weren’t protecting yourself. You hit him to make you feel better. Just like Liam did to me.” My bottom lip trembles, the last sentence coming out nothing more than a broken whisper. Roan pales, stumbling back a few steps from the blunt force of my accusation.

“Saylor…” He reaches out, trying to fix the damage he’s caused, but I jerk away. His jaw clenches, hands balling into fists as his gaze drops to the floor. I sniffle, trying to get my tears under control. Roan closes his eyes, as if the sound physically pains him, then spins around, giving the room his back.

“Goddamnit!” He roars, tugging at his hair. His shoulders slump as he walks away, muttering curses as he pulls open the door to the lower level and slams it shut behind him.

I scan the other guys, noting the various emotions playing across their faces. A mixture of pity and anger. I wipe my nose, then drop to my knees in front of Havok. His mouth and nose are bleeding. You’d think I’d be used to the sight of blood by now, but all it makes me think of are the dozens of times I bled at the hands of an asshole who had serious anger management issues. I take a deep breath and push the memories away.

“Come on.” I take Havok’s hand, giving it a gentle tug. No matter how badly I want to help him, he won’t be moving anywhere unless he puts in some effort. He climbs to his feet, a vacant, haunted look clouding his eyes. I lead him down the hallway, turning left toward our rooms. I stop outside his door, waiting for his okay. He nods, so I twist the knob and drag him with me. A lamp is on by his bed, so it’s not completely dark. I head straight for the bathroom, flipping the light on before closing the lid on his toilet and making him sit.

My hands are shaking, but I find a washcloth and run it beneath the faucet. Wringing the rag out, I step between Havok’s legs and wipe his face as gently as possible. He doesn’t complain or flinch, and I think my heart cracks. My mind wonders to how many times he had his lip split as a kid by a father who should have loved and protected him. And now, someone he sees as a brother—a brother he chose—has hurt him just the same. Because of me. No matter how wrong it was, Roan hit him out of some misguided idea that he was defending me. The last thing I want is to come between any of them, and it feels like I just did in the most horrific way.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, my eyes still wet with tears. Havok laughs, but it’s disjointed and full of pain.

“Why the hell are you sorry, Say?” He tilts his head back, a bewildered look on his face.

“Because…” I hiccup around a sob. “You got hurt because of me. I didn’t know you’d kept it a secret or I never would’ve said anything, I swear.” I’m crying in earnest, the trembling that was isolated to my hands now spread throughout my entire body.

“Baby,” Havok’s pained voice pleads. His hands grip my hips as he rests his face against my stomach, his head shaking back and forth. Eventually, he pulls away to look me in the eye. “This was my fault and no one else’s. I knew what would happen when I confessed everything. I’ve had years, pretty girl. Years to come clean, but I was ashamed. And now they know you, Say. Not the shit in your file or stories I passed down from your mother. They know you. They care about you.” His fingers flex against my side, begging me to understand. I bite my lip and look away.

Havok sighs and drops his hands. “Could you grab me a t-shirt and some sweats from the top right drawer of my dresser?” I nod. It feels odd to dig around his things, but it’s the least I can do. I find what he asked for pretty easily and hand them over, closing the bathroom door behind me so he can change. I haven’t been in any of the guys’ rooms before. I glance around, seeing his walls are pretty bare. His bed is positioned like mine, but there’s a shelf above his dresser.

That must be where he kept Mom, I think with a smile. That assumption’s confirmed when I see a framed photo of the two of them. I’m too short to reach it, but it’s definitely her. My eyes start to burn again. The door creaks open, revealing a sleepy-eyed Havok all ready for bed. He glances in the direction of the photo, a tender smile touching his lips. Edging closer, he lifts it from the shelf and hands it to me. I gasp, my heart damn near bursting at the beautiful smile plastered across my mother’s face. She’s hugging Havok, her eyes focused on him instead of the camera.

“She loved you.” It’s a statement not a question.

“Yeah.” He shifts his body, his hand rubbing at the back of his neck. “Yeah, I think she did.”

“I know she did.” I hold his gaze, needing him to believe that without an ounce of uncertainty. He just nods, but his eyes shine a little brighter. He walks to his bed and pulls the covers back. I sit the frame on his dresser, preparing to leave when he stops me.

“Will you stay?” The vulnerability in his voice makes my stomach clench.

“Sure.”

I move to climb in, wanting to give Havok the outside, but stop short at the pictures decorating his nightstand. I blink, wondering if I’m seeing things. Slowly, I reach out and lift the closet one. It’s me. My front two teeth are missing and my hair is tied in pigtails. There’s a half-melted popsicle dripping down my hand. I couldn’t have been older than six or seven at the time. I put it back and pick up the next one. Me again. My palms are resting against my cheeks, eyes closed. There’s a pink blush edged around my fingers. I remember this day. I’d been so embarrassed because Mom had just asked if I needed birth control.

No questions, Saylor. All I need is a yes or a no.

I can almost hear her voice. Boys hadn’t grabbed my attention yet, but I was fourteen and she wanted to make sure I was prepared long before the day actually came. This had only been a few months before I was taken. I put the picture down and grab the last one. My heartrate kicks up a notch, seeing myself from just a few days back. I’m sitting at the island, Havok’s black hoodie draped over my body and fuzzy socks pulled halfway up my legs. There’s a slight smile on my face as I chat with someone. I carefully place it back on the nightstand.

“Why do you have these?” I ask curiously. There’s no anger, I’m just not sure I understand.

“I don’t know if you’re ready for that answer, Say.” His eyes beg me not to push it. I nod, because I have a feeling I know it already, and he’s right. I’m not ready.

“Come on. I’m exhausted and all I want to do is hold you till we both fall asleep.” I feel my cheeks flush as I slip between the cool sheets. I snuggle against him, laying my head on his chest. As soon as I’m situated, he wraps his arm around me.

“Sleep, pretty girl.” Havok presses his lips to my forehead, breathing in deeply before pulling away. I sigh, letting everything from the night take a backseat for the time being.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Saylor

I’ve been awake for a while, but I’m trying to stay as still as possible. My cheek is pressed against Havok’s chest, the steady rise and fall from his breathing the only movement between us. Just because my mind won’t stop reeling doesn’t mean his sleep should be disturbed, too. I’ve been admiring the ink covering his arm while I have the chance to without looking like a first-class creep. A lot of the designs seem random, so I can’t begin to guess at their meaning. Maybe they don’t have one at all.

“You still lookin’ or can I stretch?” Havok’s sleep roughened voice pierces the quiet, making my face heat as he calls me out.