I suppress the urge to shove him. “Yeah, man, whatever.”
He grins lasciviously. “Losing interest already, huh? Maybe I can step in when you’re done with her, have my turn.”
My first instinct is to punch him in his stupid, smug little face. But that would reveal just how serious I am about her, and I don’t want our relationship turned into party gossip. Not with the kind of jerks who are here. Taking a deep breath, I turn for the beer line. “You’re an asshole.”
He slaps my back again. “I know, man, I know. Hey, have fun, okay? I’ll catch you later.”
He’s just an idiot, I tell myself. Not worth getting pissed about. Still, I have to flex my hands to keep them steady as I get in line for beer. I’m so distracted trying to keep calm that I don’t even notice who’s in front of me until she turns to face me. I barely manage not to groan when I realize I’m standing face to face with Sarah.
“Hey, Jet,” she says, and her voice brings up a hundred memories I’d rather forget. “It’s been a while.”
I nod. “Hey, Sarah. How’ve you been?”
It’s a pointless question. I know exactly how Sarah has been. I’ve had a front row seat to the destruction of my brother’s girl over the past four years.
She gives me a wide smile, but it does little to cover the pain in her eyes. I wish there were a way to make it easier for her, to help her move on after all this time. It’s just one more area where I failed him. More than anything else, I’m sure my brother can't forgive my inability to take care of Sarah after he died.
“Oh, you know. About the same.” She lifts a hand to move her hair from her face, and I get a momentary glimpse of her bare arm. The scars stand out against her pale skin, and I clench my teeth at the sight of them.
She must catch me looking, because she blushes and hurriedly pulls her sleeves down.
“I wish you’d let me help you, Sarah,” I say, my voice soft. “Jim wouldn't have wanted—”
She laughs bitterly. “Seriously? You think you can help me?” She looks me up and down. “Like you’re in such better shape than me? I know how well you’ve dealt, Jet.”
My stomach drops. She’s right, of course. How much help could I offer someone when I can't even get my own shit together? Was her cutting herself really much worse than any of the shit I pulled? I’ve basically been drunk or hungover ever since the day of the funeral. Not to mention the weed I’ve smoked to make the noise in my head stop, or the dudes I’ve fucked up in bars when the anger became too much, or girls I’ve screwed for a little release. No good to her. No good to anyone.
“Yeah,” I mumble, looking down. “You’re right.”
She’s quiet for a moment. We’re almost to the front of the line. Finally, she sighs. “It doesn’t matter, right? Whatever it takes to get through the day.” She looks around the crowded kitchen at our peers, each in various stages of drunkenness. An angry expression comes over her features. “At least we admit that life sucks, you know? At least we’re not in fucking denial, like all these assholes.”
We’ve reached the front of the line now, and she fills her cup with beer before turning to face me fully. “Whatever it takes to get through,” she repeats. I nod, helpless. She gives me one last fleeting smile before she slips through the crowds and disappears.
“Hey, buddy, hurry the fuck up,” a voice behind me calls. I shake my head, having forgotten where I am for a second. Beer is no longer appealing. I duck out of line and head for the liquor counter. I know Zoe has vodka downstairs, but I need something more, something sure to wipe this entire fucking night away. I grab a bottle of tequila and take off for the stairs.
I find Zoe in the rec room, the same place we’d first met. She’s sitting with Mary, passing the bottle of vodka between them. Even from across the room, I can see a good portion of it is gone. I catch her eye as I enter the room, and she gives me a little wave but doesn't motion for me to join them. Not that I blame her. She doesn't need my shit in her life. No one does. I sit next to Fred on one of the other couches and open my own bottle, taking a long swig.
“You okay, man?” he asks.
I snicker. “Oh, yeah. Swell.”
“You wanna talk about it?”
I take another gulp. “I ran into Sarah upstairs.”
He grimaces. “Sorry, man. I know that’s always rough.”
“Yeah,” I say, but the truth is, he doesn't know. No one can possibly know what it does to me to see Sarah the way she is now. My brother loved that girl, loved her in a way I had never fully understood. It wasn’t just some teenaged infatuation, either. They looked at each other in a way I’ve never once seen my parents look at each other. In the end, when he was so sick he couldn’t even get out of bed anymore, when we all knew time was running out, she’d proposed to him. She said she wanted them linked forever, no matter what happened. I think she was hoping it might be enough to pull him through after all, the thought of the two of them getting married.
It didn’t work. He died and Sarah slipped farther and farther away. I wonder if he would even recognize her anymore. The thought hurts my chest so bad I feel like I might scream. Instead, I take another pull of tequila, willing it to do its job quickly. I need to forget.
***
I lose track of Zoe after a while. I watch Everett and Hunter join a group of kids playing pool in the next room, and she doesn’t go with them. She also isn’t on the other couch. I know I should get up and find her, but the alcohol has taken over, muddling my brain. I’ve finally achieved some peace, and I really don't want to do anything except sit right where I am.
“Have you seen Zoe?” I ask Fred. I’m vaguely aware that my voice is a lot more slurred than I would have thought. It’s going to be bad when I finally stand up.
“She went upstairs with Everett.”
Wait, she left the basement? How had I not seen her?
“You’ve been zoning out,” Fred says.
I should go find her. Everett won't let her do anything stupid, like try to drive, but Stef and her friends are upstairs. I’m not crazy about her running into them in the state she’s surely in.
I pull myself up on unsteady legs, stumbling slightly. Fred jumps up and grabs my shoulder to steady me. “You okay, man?”
“Fine,” I say, and push him off. “I just need a second.” Once I’m sure I can move without falling over, I head toward the stairs. I’m frustrated by how slow my progress is. I keep bumping into things.
When I finally reach the main floor, the room is spinning. I really need to lie down, sleep it off, but I want to find Zoe first. Though she hasn’t done much to show me that she cares whether I find her or not. She’s been avoiding me all night.
“Hey, man,” Everett says. Where the hell did he come from? I close my eyes tightly, willing the room to stop spinning. The music is too loud. “You okay?” Everett asks, sounding very far away. “You gonna hurl?”
I shake my head, the motion nearly knocking me over. I put a hand out against the wall, and try to get myself under control. “Zoe,” I finally mumble. I open my eyes. “You see Zoe?”
Everett points towards the stairs to the second level. “She went to find somewhere to lie down. She was pretty trashed.”
I don't like the idea of her up there alone, asleep. Any asshole could walk in. “You let her go alone?”
He shakes his head. “Nah, man, your boy was with her. Preston. Said he’d find her a quiet place where no one would bug her. I figured that was cool, since it’s his house, right?”
Something about this is very, very wrong. Behind the tequila haze, an alarm bell is going off, sobering me up slightly.
“You sure you’re okay?” Everett asks again. I nod and push off from the wall. I need to get to Zoe.
The room is so crowded, and my feet feel so unsteady. All I want is to lie down until the spinning stops, to hang onto something so that the world can right itself. But there’s a little shot of panic coursing through me, and it keeps me goin
g.
I make it up the stairs and look down the long hallway. Why the fuck are there so many bedrooms? Preston’s room, a voice in my head says. He’d have taken her there. Sure enough the door at the end of the hallway is shut. I lumber that way, stopping a few times to steady myself on the wall. When I’m a few feet away, I hear a noise that turns my blood to ice—Zoe is screaming.
It’s muffled, small and pathetic sounding, but that somehow makes it much worse. By the time the scream stops, I’m pulling on the door handle, my heart beating so fast I think I might pass out. It’s locked.
“Zoe?” I try to yell, but my voice still isn’t working right. I push on the door. “Let me in!”
There’s no answer. Zoe is quiet now, and the silence terrifies me more than the scream had. Something changes inside me—the haze lifts and is replaced with an anger so intense it makes my breath short. With a roar, I kick the door in.
“The fuck, man?” Preston yells. “What do you think you’re doing?”
My chest heaving, I take in the scene in front of me. Zoe is lying on the bed, her hoodie off. She barely looks conscious. And next to her, his hand over her mouth, is my old friend.
“What am I doing?” I yell. “What the hell are you doing? Get the fuck off of her!”
He just watches me, unconcerned. “Give me a break. She’s fine. We just came in here to talk and get comfortable.”
“Get your hand off her,” I demand, my voice low.
Preston does, but he doesn't get up. Zoe appears in no condition to move on her own. I’ve seen her hammered before, but never like this. She just lies there, looking up at me, looking scared and dazed. I go to her, and grab her by the arms. “Come on, Zoe. Let’s go.”
“I didn't do anything, Jet,” Preston says. He’s still spread out on the bed. “She was having a good time.”
I push Zoe aside, much more roughly than I had intended. She stumbles and falls into his dresser. I grab Preston by his shirt and pull him up so that his face is nearly level with mine. “She was screaming, you dick,” I say. “I heard her.”
He pushes me off, and jumps to his feet. “Chill out, man. What’s the big deal? Are you seriously getting all bent out of shape over some drunk slut? You said yourself it was just fun with you guys.” He looks over at where Zoe is crouched next to his dresser, looking like she might pass out any minute. He sneers. “She’s nothing.”
Rage courses through me, stronger than I’ve ever felt before, and suddenly I’m punching every inch of him I can get my hands on. It’s never been this bad before, the blacked-out rage, not even the fight that had led to my arrest. When I had almost killed that guy.
Vaguely I become aware of his curses, of Zoe screaming, of other raised voices in the room. “Enough, man!” someone yells, strong hands pulling me back. I continue to swing, oblivious to everything except my desire to destroy Preston.
“Enough!” I recognize this voice, and finally still. Fred is wrestling me away from Preston. As the room comes back into focus, I realize other guys are holding Preston back as well. His face is beet red, angrier than I have ever seen him. His lip is bleeding, and a cut above his eye adds to the mess. His nose is bleeding the most though, and I wonder if I broke it.
“Get him out of here,” one of the guys holding Preston shouts, and Fred pulls me toward the door.
“Zoe!” I yell, fighting his grasp. “Where’s Zoe?”
“Everett has her,” Fred says. “She’s right in the hall. If you’d stop fighting me and let me get you out of here you’d see her.”
I go limp, and he steers me through the growing crowd of gawkers. And there’s Zoe, huddled against the wall, still looking like she might pass out, Everett holding her up.
“Shit,” I say and push him away so I can grab her around the shoulders. “We need to get her out of here.”
With Everett’s help, I manage to get Zoe down the stairs and into the foyer. Most of the crowd is silently watching us. I feel a fresh surge of rage, thinking of the gossip I know will be swirling around as soon as we leave. “Someone needs to find Hunter,” I say to Everett, and maneuver Zoe toward the door. Sometime during the trip down the stairs, she had turned her face into my chest and wrapped her arms around me, shielding herself from the whispers. I tuck her more completely under my arms.
“I’ll find him,” he says. “Meet you outside.”
The fresh air hits me like another punch to the gut. Away from the crowd and noise inside, I suddenly become aware of all the places Preston had landed punches. Looking down, I see blood in Zoe’s hair and wonder what my face looks like.
Zoe whimpers. I pull her down to the grass, lifting her face so I can see her better. “You okay, baby?” I whisper.
“What…what happened? Preston was…he…?”
“Shh,” I whisper, rubbing her arms. She’s trembling. “I’m gonna get you home.”
She shakes her head. “No. Please. Not there.”
We’re interrupted by Hunter, Everett, and Fred bursting from the front door. “Zoe?” Hunter calls, rushing toward us. “Oh, God.” He sinks to his knees in front of us, looking into her eyes. “Oh, God, Zoe, I’m so sorry. I should have been—”
“Let’s just get her out of here,” I say. “Zoe, do you think you can stand up?” She nods against my chest, and I help her to her feet. She’s still unsteady. “You can drive?” I ask Hunter.
He nods, his eyes big. “I’m DD tonight.”
I pull my keys out of my back pocket and throw them toward him. “We’ll take my car.” I lead them down the lawn to my Challenger, practically carrying Zoe. She’s limp in my arms, and, for the first time, I start to worry, not about what Preston had nearly done, but about how much she’s had to drink. “Talk to me, baby,” I say. “Let me know you’re okay.”
“I’m fine,” she says, her voice still slurred. “I just want to go.”
I put Zoe into the back with me and Fred, letting Everett sit next to Hunter in the front. As Hunter glances at us in the rearview mirror, I hear him mutter, “Ellie is going to kill us.”
“Just drop us off at my place,” I say. “I’ll meet up with you tomorrow to get the car.”
“I’ll take care of it,” Fred says next to Zoe, his voice steady and calm. I take a deep breath, trying to let that calm wash over me, strengthen me.
Hunter pulls out onto the dark, deserted street. “Zoe?” he finally asks, his voice quiet. “You okay, babe?”
“I’m fine, Hunt,” she murmurs. “Nothing happened.”
I suppress a shudder at Hunter’s sigh of relief, thinking of how close she’d been to not okay. If I hadn’t gone upstairs…
“You’re shaking,” Zoe murmurs.
My vision is starting to tinge red. I try to calm down. The last thing Zoe needs is for me to lose it again.
Hunter pulls up in front of my house. The windows are dark. I hope my mom is sleeping—not that she’d come up to my apartment anyhow. She hasn’t set foot in the place since I moved up there.
“Thanks, Hunter,” I say as Everett gets out to pull the passenger seat forward.
Hunter gives me a worried look. “Have her call me as soon as she gets up, okay? I don’t know what I’m going to tell Ellie.”
“Just tell her she’s fine. I’ll take care of her.”
I climb out from the back seat, pulling Zoe with me. She’s limp in my arms.
“Sorry, man,” Everett says as I stand. “I should have…I shouldn’t have let her go with him…”
“It wasn’t your fault,” I say, gruffly. “I’ve got her.”
“Can everyone please stop talking about me like I’m not here?” Zoe mutters, as she pulls away from me slightly.
Everett laughs and taps her on the nose. “Get some rest. See you soon, okay?”
She nods, and he climbs back into the car.
“Come on,” I say, wrapping my arm more tightly around her shoulder. I pull her around the garage to my door. “Shit. Hunter has my keys.” I reach u
p to the top of door frame, feeling around until my fingers hit the spare key. I’d locked myself out in drunken stupors enough times to decide I needed to hide a key outside. The first time I’d had to go into the main house, drunk, to find the extra set had been the last. My mother hadn’t much appreciated finding me trashed in her kitchen at three in the morning.
“Here we go,” I say as I open the door. “Just up the stairs and we can lie down, okay?”
It’s harder to get her up the stairs than it had been to get her down the ones back at the party. My adrenaline is waning, and her body feels leaden. When we finally reach the top, I blow out a relieved breath.
“Do you want food?” I ask. “Coffee?”
“Sleep,” she says. “I just want sleep.” So I pull her to the bedroom and sit her on the edge of the bed so I can remove her shoes. “I left my hoodie,” she mumbles, and for a second I’m afraid that she might cry. But then her face relaxes back into that slightly dazed expression. “Come on,” I say. “Just lie back.”
After removing my boots, I climb into bed next to her, and pull the blanket up around us. We lie on our sides, her back to my chest, my arms wrapped firmly around her. Within minutes her breathing has changed, evened out, and I know she’s asleep. I breathe a sigh of relief, glad she can escape to dreams for a while, forget the terrible night.
I’m sure I won't be able to sleep, sure the anger I feel raging through me toward Preston will keep me up. Instead, a wave of relief crashes over me as I lie there listening to her breathe. She’s safe. He hadn’t been able to hurt her. I’m terrified of what might have happened had I not been there. But I was, and I’m going to make damned sure I will be there the next time, too. All the time, if she’ll let me.
Chapter Sixteen
Zoe
I wake up in Taylor’s bed, confused as to how I got there. I don't remember coming in the night before. He’s curled up behind my back, his arms tight around me. I wriggle away from his grip, though he moans softly as I do so. I climb from the bed, looking down at his face. He’s frowning slightly in his sleep.
Escape In You Page 14