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Ocean
Kay says she’s all right, but I’ve never seen her so damn pale, ever, and she’s favoring her right arm. That motherfucker was pulling her arm too hard. Fucking asshole. Punching him was the highlight of my day.
Of course my ribs aren’t thanking me for it. I almost passed out when I punched the bastard, and it fucking hurts to breathe. I wish I’d brought painkillers with me. I’d chew straight through the package.
She’s okay, though. That’s the only thing that matters. And her sister, too. Poor girl looks like she’ll piss herself from fright, and the bruises I can see on her wrists make me wanna go back up to the apartment and keep punching the guy until he has no fucking teeth left in his mouth.
Fuck him for hurting my girl and her sis.
Kay is quiet, her arm around her sister, as we reach her tiny car. Cold wind is whistling down the road, and I shiver in my thin jacket, which in its turn sends fire through my ribcage.
Goddammit.
Without asking, I sit in the back—both to let the two sisters talk and hold hands if that helps, and to stretch out a little and wallow in my misery. Busted ribs sure suck.
I’m sort of dozing off, dreaming of a vise crushing my chest slowly, when the car slows to a stop.
Huh. I blink dazedly. We’re in Madison already?
But there’s an argument going on in the front of the car—that is, two feet away from my head—and it’s getting louder.
“You can’t go back there, Allie. Trust me, that guy’s unstable.”
Go back? Is the girl fucking serious? I groan softly and throw an arm over my face.
“I can’t just walk away,” her sister is saying, and dammit, I wanna grab her and shake some sense into her.
Probably not a good idea, after beating up the violent boyfriend who beats her up.
Shit.
“Look, Ocean didn’t risk himself to get us out for you to return to that hell. No way. He hurt himself to help you, and I’m pretty pissed about that.”
I blink, lifting my arm from my face. She is?
“Brad was hurting me. Hurting you. How can you live with that guy? I’m not taking you back, Allie. Who cares if Mom is shocked? Who cares what the neighbors will say? That guy could kill you. Believe it.”
“Kay—”
“No. I’m calling Wyatt.”
Wyatt?
This is like one of those weird dreams after you’ve had too much Jack. Or like listening to a radio program in the dark.
“Who’s Wyatt?” someone asks, and I cringe when I realize the hoarse, angry voice is mine. I’m jealous of this guy, whoever he is. The guy Kayla is calling when she needs help.
Kayla turns around, her eyes wide, as she lifts her cell to her ear. “He’s our brother.”
Oh. Fucking shit.
Feeling like a jerk, I slump back.
I have no right to feel so jealous, so possessive of her. She’s not my girl, although I’d do anything for her to be mine. Anything to have her in my arms tonight, and tomorrow, and for the days to come.
***
After a short discussion with Wyatt, Kayla decides we’ll drop her sister off with a friend here, in Milwaukee. The sister says nothing pro or against, so I assume she’s okay with it.
