“Who are you texting?”
I shrug, hoping it comes off as casual. “It’s just my mom asking if I want a latte.” I roll my eyes. “Obviously I said no.”
Confusion flashes across his face, and Xavier takes advantage of the distraction. With both arms folded like he’s a linebacker, he shoves Colton out of the room and slams the door. He leans his weight against the door and I scramble to my feet to help. The door thumps like Colton’s throwing his body against it, my teeth rattling with each thud, and Xavier fumbles with the chain lock. It slips from his fingers once, then a second time. It feels like the entire room shakes as Colton pounds on the door, and finally Xavier gets the chain to catch.
“I texted 9-1-1,” I say, hurrying back to my phone.
There’s a string of replies.
Do you need an ambulance?
Can you lock yourself in a room?
We’re on our way.
Colton keeps throwing himself against the door and Drea whimpers with each blow.
The flimsy lock in the handle finally gives way in a burst of splintered wood, but the chain holds. Barely. His red face fills the small opening, his eyes unfocused.
I type out a reply. We locked him out of the room but he’s still trying to get in.
“Drea! Let me in! You know I didn’t mean to hurt you. I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” He lowers his voice. “Baby, think about our future. Everything we have planned.”
Drea shakes next to me.
“Stay here,” I whisper. “Don’t talk to him.”
Her eyes fill with tears. “I tried to break up with him.”
Xavier shoves the door closed and leans against it. The pounding starts back up but it’s less intense, like he’s switched to his fists rather than his entire body.
“The police are almost here,” I say. “They won’t let him hurt you ever again.”
Her eyes grow wide. “I don’t want my parents to find out about this.” Her gaze flits back and forth between me and the closed door.
I rest my hand on her foot as sirens pierce the air. “You won’t be able to hide this from them.”
She touches her cheek and winces. Her good eye closes, and tears slide down her face. “Is it that bad?”
“Yeah. But I’m here for you. And I swear I’ll do everything I can to make sure he never hurts you or anyone else.” I don’t know what I can actually do, but the fierce protectiveness sweeping through me has to mean something.
The sirens grow louder, and moments later shouts come from outside the door. There’s another thud against the door. “I didn’t do anything!” Colton’s voice sounds almost manic. “Drea! Baby, tell them I didn’t hurt you.” There are sounds of a scuffle, then silence, then a knock on the door.
“Boulder PD. We’ve secured the suspect. It’s safe to come out.”
Xavier slides the chain lock that kept Colton out and opens the door. Two cops Colton’s size stand in the doorway, their hands hovering near the guns holstered on their hips. “We need an ambulance,” Xavier says.
“No,” Drea squeaks. “Please no.”
“I can ride with you,” I say, but the fear in her eyes makes me wonder if she even heard me. “Drea, it’s gonna be okay.” No one can know that for sure, but I have to hope that it will.
The cops enter the room, stalking through the small room like they’re predators tracking their prey, and finally stop near the foot of the bed. “Did he do this to you?” the one on the left asks Drea.
She doesn’t answer at first, but the tears streaming down her face seem to be enough of an answer. For now.
The cop squeezes the radio strapped to his chest. “What’s the status on the bus?” He raises his eyebrows at me. “You hurt?” I shake my head, and he presses the button again. “Just one.”
The other cop approaches Xavier. “What happened here?”
Xavier fills him in while I help Drea out of the corner. Her legs tremble as she stands, and she’s still clutching her arm to her chest, so I guide her to the bed and grab her shoes.
Our cop squats next to the bed so he’s looking up at Drea. “Can you tell me what happened?”
Her eye closes, a fresh wave of tears rolling down her cheeks and wetting the dried blood on her lips. “We come here sometimes to…” she waves her hand at the bed like she doesn’t want to tell the cop they have sex here, “but I tried to break up with him instead.”
“Has he hit you before?” he asks.
She nods, and I flash to the bruise on her back on trash duty. It seems like so long ago. How many times has he done this? She touches her cheek and sucks in a breath. “But this is the first time he’s touched my face.”
The cop’s jaw ticks as he takes notes. He inhales deeply, then lets it out slowly, like he’s practicing a technique to calm down. “The ambulance will be here in a few minutes and they’ll take good care of you. We’ll get your full statement at the hospital.”
“Great.” Her sarcasm isn’t lost on the cop.
“We’ll also need to call your parents.”
If it’s possible, she shrinks even more inside herself. “If they even care.”
“I’m sure they care,” I say. But I don’t know that. From what she’s said her parents are never around and don’t seem very involved in her life, but I can’t believe they wouldn’t care that Colton beat her up. I rest my hand on her shoulder, but quickly pull back. Seeing what Colton did to her—has been doing—it makes sense that she seems terrified of physical contact.
The cop looks her in the eye. “If you’re under seventeen, we have to call them. And we have to wait to get your statement until one of them is present.”
“I’ve never been so happy to have a fall birthday. I’m eighteen.”
“They still need to know,” I say.
“Fine.” She closes her eye and takes a deep breath like she’s pulling energy from deep within herself. “I think my phone’s under the bed.” The cop retrieves it and she gives him their numbers. “If you can keep the details to a minimum, I’d appreciate it.”
The cop stands and tucks his notebook in his front pocket. His already stern face deepens to a frown. “We’ll do our best to make sure he never hurts anyone ever again.”
Her lips wobble like she’s trying to smile, but can’t. “Thank you,” she whispers, and he joins the other cop who’s still talking to Xavier. She leans her head on my shoulder. “I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t come.”
“I’m glad you trusted me to help.”
“Is he gonna get arrested?”
“I think he already has been.”
“What will this do to his future? To his football career?”
“Don’t think about that. He deserves whatever’s coming to him, and then some.”
She lifts her head, tears shining in her eye, and stares out the open door like she can see him outside. “He used to be so sweet. I thought I was the luckiest girl in the world because Colton Rogers liked me.” She shakes her head. “If I could go back and tell fourteen-year old me to run away screaming, I would.”
I cover her hand with mine. “I’m so sorry this happened. But I’m proud of you. I know how scared you were to end things—rightfully so—but you did it. Things can only get better from here.”
“We’ll see.”
Words of encouragement are not my strong suit, and this doesn’t feel like the right time for it anyway, so we sit in silence until the ambulance arrives. Two paramedics strap her to a board, but because there isn’t an elevator, they have to carry her down the stairs. She looks so small and alone that my heart breaks for her all over again. Once she’s settled inside the ambulance, I start to climb in, but she stops me.
“Can you—” she closes her eye for a moment. “I need to be alone. Just until the hospital. Is that okay?”
I rest my hands on the edge of the gurney, wishing I could channel my strength to her. “I’ll meet you at the hospital.”
“Of course.”
The paramedics close the doors and I step away. Xavier’s lingering near my car, alone. I start to move toward him but the cop from the motel room stops me. “I’ll need your statement, too.” He hands me a business card. “Can you come to the police station with one of your parents?”
There’s no way in hell I’m setting foot in another police station. “Can we do it at the hospital?”
“Can one of your parents be there?”
I close my eyes, already imagining Mom’s reaction when I call her. But I nod. “Yes.” Because while she may not be the ideal mother, I believe she’ll be there when it matters.
He tells me the name of the hospital and walks over to the other officers. Now nothing and everything is stopping me from talking to Xavier. If he’ll even listen. He’s still here, which has to mean something, but I can’t get my feet to move. We stare at each other from across the parking lot, neither willing to take the first step.
Finally, after what feels like an eternity, I walk toward him. He doesn’t stiffen or recoil as I get closer, but the hard look that’s been on his face since he shoved Colton from the room is still there. I stop a couple feet away, lean against my car, and dare to look him in the eye.
“Thank you for waiting,” I say.
“You’re my ride.”
His words hit me in the gut. He doesn’t care. Whatever we had is in the past.
“Oh.”
He lets out a breath and leans against the car, still keeping his distance. “I didn’t mean it like that.” He cracks his knuckles and his body seems to relax a little. “Are you okay? That was pretty intense.”
“Intense is a good word.” I take a quick inventory of myself, and despite my broken heart for Drea and a slight tremor running through me, I feel reasonably normal. “I seem to be okay.”
“It’ll probably catch up with you later.”
“Awesome.”
Our eyes meet, then we both look away, the silence dragging out between us. I could let this be the end. Drive him home and never see him again. Or I could tell him the truth—the whole truth—and try to rekindle this thing between us with whatever pieces are left. I clear my throat. “There are some things I need to tell you.”
He watches me, waiting.
“Not here. Can we get coffee before going to the hospital? Or do you need to go home?”
“How about hospital coffee?” he asks.
“That works. Let me call my mom quick.” He nods, and I pull out my phone. How do you tell your mother she has to come to the hospital so you can give a statement to the police without completely freaking her out? The fact that I rarely call her—we always text—will probably tip her off before she even answers.
She answers on the second ring. “Are you okay?” Her voice is a little breathless.
“I’m okay. But my friend was hurt and I’m on my way to the hospital to see her and I need to give a statement to the police.” I pause to catch my breath, expecting a tirade on making bad choices and how busy she is, but the line is silent. “Since I’m a minor, I need a parent there.”
“I can leave in five minutes. Text me the address.”
“Okay. Tha—”
“Are you sure you’re not hurt?”
I look up to see Xavier watching me. “Just a little freaked out.”
“I’m glad you’re okay. I’ll be there soon. And Brianna?”
“Yeah?”
“I love you.”
“O-okay. Bye.” I hang up and get in the car, feeling like the wind’s been knocked out of me. I can’t remember the last time she told me she loves me. I text her the name of the hospital and get in the car. Xavier slides in next to me, but we may as well be on different planets.
Once on the road, the silence almost kills me. But I want to wait until I can look him in the eye and see his reaction. We both deserve that.
I park near the emergency entrance and he leads me through the maze of halls to the cafeteria with a confidence I admire, and it reminds me how much I still don’t know about him. And may never know.
We get our drinks—hot chocolate for him and a latte for me—and face each other across a small table. Nothing is stopping me from talking, yet I can’t get the words to come out. He watches me with a mixture of skepticism and curiosity, so I take a deep breath and begin.
“First, I’m really sorry for the way my mom treated you. She and my dad are…” I want to use his “cómo se dice” line, but I don’t want to offend him. I look into his eyes, and my gaze drifts to the tattoo on his neck that my lips have touched, and despite everything, heat warms my belly. “They’re really into appearances. The simple fact that you look different from them is enough to make you not good enough.” I hold up my hands. “In their eyes. Not mine.”
His eyes lower. “Is it because I’m Mexican-American, or because I have tattoos?”
“Honestly, I hope it’s just the tattoos. But I don’t know. Mom and I haven’t talked much since the day you came over.”
He looks up, surprised. “How do you not talk to each other when you live in the same house?”
A sad smile lifts the corner of my mouth. “Years of practice?”
He frowns. “You should try to talk to her.”
“It’s not that easy.”
“Nothing worthwhile ever is.”
I’m tempted to leave it at this and use his sympathy to convince him to give me another chance. But it can never work between us if he doesn’t know the truth. “That’s not what I want to talk to you about.”
He takes a drink and sets his cup on the table. Everything inside me screams not to do this. To keep my secret safe. To hang onto this thread of whatever is still between us that will surely be destroyed once he knows who I really am.
My heart races. “Remember the Saturday we did trash duty at the park?” He nods and I pick up my latte, but set it down without taking a drink. “I didn’t tell you what I know about when Cody died.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “You knew him?”
My gaze drops to my cup. I can’t watch his reaction when I say this. “I was there.” My voice comes out a whisper, but from his sharp intake of breath, I know he heard me. “I’m the evil bitch Blake told you about.”
He leans back in his chair and studies me like he’s trying to fit what he’s heard about me from Blake with what he knows firsthand. I’ve come a long way in the past few months and I cling to the hope that he won’t be able to make the pieces fit. Then his face hardens. He opens his mouth to speak, closes it, then his eyes close too, like he’s wishing me away.
“If I could take back what I did, what I said, I would. But I can’t. There were too many emotions that day and anger won. I lashed out at Blake, and I’ve lived with that every day since. And I’m trying to change. I—”
His eyes snap open. “Blake has to live with the memory of watching his brother die, and you want me to feel bad for you?” The anger in his eyes burns up any hope that we can get past this.
I blink away tears. “No. I don’t want your sympathy. I just want you to know everything so maybe…” I trail off.
“So maybe what? We get back together? I wouldn’t be here today if it wasn’t for Drea. My need for self-preservation is too strong to waste another minute on a stuck-up, calculating…” he pauses, like he wants to say bitch.
“You can call me a bitch.”
He shakes his head. “I thought you were a different person.”
“I’m trying to be. Instead of apologizing for what I said that day, I turned being a bitch into a life goal and I’ve wasted years trying to make everyone respect me, when really they just hate me. When I met you and Drea, I realized I finally had the chance to just be myself.” My fingertips slide back and forth on the table between us.
His mask of anger is starting to crack, and while I’m not stupid enough to think he’ll come around, the need to make him understand pushes me forward. “I want to make things right. With you. With Blake and Cally. I know it might not change anything, but I’m trying.”
“I can respect that.”
A glimmer of hope shines in my heart.
“I accept your apology, but that’s it.”
My head drops. This is what I expected, but it still hurts. “Okay.”
“Are you going to tell Drea?”
I look him in the eye. “She already knows.”
He watches me like he’s putting the pieces together. Drea knows the truth, and she still called me for help. Which means she trusts me. Emotions flick across his face, like he’s trying to decide if he could learn to trust me again, too.
His hand reaches across the table, but he pulls it back before touching me. “Are you sure you’re okay after this morning?”
I straighten my shoulders, relieved for the change of topic. “It’s starting to hit me that we were actually in danger, but I’d do it again.”
The corner of his mouth lifts in a smile. It’s not the heart-melting smile I long for, but it’s a start.
“How are you?” I ask. “This had to bring back everything with Lily and…”
He rubs his fist. “I kept reminding myself that I’m still on probation. I wanted to kick his ass but I couldn’t.” His eyes close for a moment, and when he opens them, his gaze is serious. “There’s no way I was letting him back in that room to hurt either of you.”
My heart skips at the ferocity in his voice. Maybe a tiny part of him does still care.
He takes another drink before pushing back from the table. “We should probably go find Drea.”
Disappointment anchors me in my chair. This could be the last time we’re alone, if you count sitting in the middle of a half-empty hospital cafeteria alone. I’m desperate to keep him here, to keep him talking, but he picks up his cup and carries it to the counter with dirty dishes. My feet drag as I follow him, and even though he waits for me at the entrance, my brain starts to accept that this is over.
But at least I told him the truth. As much as it hurts right now, I can move on knowing I gave it my best shot. We walk side by side to the emergency room, the distance between us the consequence of my years of bad behavior.
The Edge Rules (The Rules Series Book 3) Page 26