Crap. There was a room, but it was Dad’s office. “No. You can both sleep in here, or on the couch.” I turned to look at them. The glow in the dark stars I loved so much seemed impossibly juvenile over Thatcher’s head. Maybe it was time I shed some of my childhood.
Thatcher and Rhys both looked toward my full-size bed, then shared a loaded look and nodded to each other. How did they do that? They couldn’t possibly have had a silent conversation without words. They didn’t talk that much and I thought tonight was one of a handful of times they’d been in person together.
“I’ll take the floor. There’s no way I’d fit on that bed comfortably with you.” Rhys grimaced. “It’s so tiny, I couldn’t even fit on it by myself.”
I scowled. It wasn’t that tiny. I mean, he was tall, and built, but he wasn’t that large. He laughed at my expression and walked over to me, dropping a kiss to my hair.
“Where are the spare blankets? I’ll grab a pillow from your window seat and sleep on the floor.”
I flicked my gaze to Thatcher, but he didn’t appear to notice Rhys’ affectionate touch, or he didn’t care.
“In the hall closet. I’ll get them.” I hopped up and scooted around both guys, pulling down two extra pillows and blankets. I used both of my pillows, and they could use my window seat pillows, but they were more for decoration than comfort. I couldn’t in good conscious make them lay their heads on hard buttons that were sewn onto the embroidered fabric. That would be a hell of an imprint in the morning.
When I got back to my room, Rhys was already sitting cross-legged on my teal blue, shag rug. His belt lay beside him, wound into a neat circle, and two pairs of shoes and socks were neatly arranged at the foot of my bed.
Their feet drew my eyes and I stopped. Bare feet. In all the times we hung out, I’d never seen their bare feet. Did that mean we surpassed to a deeper level of friendship? Well, they’d all seen me naked, so I guess we were already on that next level.
“Something funny?” Thatcher raised his brows as he pulled off his shirt.
My laughter immediately dried up. “What are you doing?” I croaked as he unbuttoned his jeans. I needed to look away. I really, really needed to look away and give him his privacy. Especially with Rhys in the room, but my eyes were glued to his body. And the worst of it was, my fingers twitched to get my camera and capture this achingly intimate act of watching him undress.
“Astrid. I’m not going to try anything, but it’s hot in here and I don’t sleep well in jeans. I learned that the hard way. It definitely put a damper on my early years of college. I never wanted to crash at someone’s party.” He chuckled and folded his pants and shirt, laying them neatly over desk chair.
I traced the sinuous lines of his muscles, and the rounded curve of his butt. So he couldn’t sleep with clothes on, but there was no way in Lucifer’s Hell that I could sleep with him almost naked next to me.
“I think you short circuited her brain, Thatcher.” Rhys grinned, propping one elbow over a bent knee. He found this hilarious, the little shit.
“Like you really want to sleep in your jeans?” Thatcher turned toward me and I kept my gaze on his. Do not look below the nose. Do not think about the pierced dick in his briefs.
Oh God. If he spooned me, would I be able to feel the piercing? I winced. I really needed to get some experience. I was having the thoughts of a twelve-year-old, and even if Rhys and Thatcher didn’t know it, I was embarrassed for myself.
“It’s fine. I’m going to change and brush my teeth. You can both use the hall bathroom. There’s an industrial size pack of toothbrushes under the sink.” I grabbed a cami and boy shorts out of my drawer and made a beeline for my own bathroom. “Oh and Rhys, if you’re more comfortable without your jeans, I don’t mind. I’ll try not to molest either of you too much with my blatant staring.” I slammed the door to my small, packed bathroom. Low murmuring traveled through the door, but I couldn’t make out what they were saying.
After going through my nightly routine, I slowly opened the door, which was ridiculous. It was like there was a treacherous monster on the other side that could be either friend or foe, but I was too afraid to find out.
I poked my head out and Rhys was shirtless under a blanket, both arms crossed under his head. Similarly, Thatcher was under the blankets on my bed, keeping to the edge instead of the inside wall.
“We took precautions and covered up before you came out. Since you’re so afraid you won’t be able to keep your self-control around us, we thought we’d do our part to take the temptation out of your hands.” Thatcher grinned boyishly.
A smile teased my lips and faster than they could track, I leapt onto the full-sized bed, scrambling under the fluffy covers.
“What the hell?” Thatcher yelled as he bounced beside me.
“I needed to get under the covers before you had a chance to witness real temptation.” I snorted. I’d seen the vixens that commonly hit on each of the guys. Even the insanely smart, glasses wearing, sweater set girls at school that hit on Jonah were sexy in their own way. Then there was me. I was pretty. But my personality was awkward. And I didn’t believe that made for dream girl material.
Both guys were quiet and when I looked their way, their faces were blank.
Frowning, I pulled the covers up to my chest. “Rhys, can you hit the lights? Thatcher, can you plug up my phone next to you?”
They both complied and we laid in the dark. Uncomfortably. At least I knew two of the guys were safe for tonight. But as I drifted off to fitful sleep, I couldn’t keep my worry at bay for both Jonah and Beck.
The incessant worry was different for each of them, but their absence tonight was a gaping hole in my chest.
“What in the love of Jesus is going on?”
I jumped out of bed, tripping over the lump next to me and landed right on top of another, larger lump on the floor. It groaned, and hands shoved me off to the side.
Hands?
Oh God. Please dear lord, tell me my mother wasn’t standing in the doorway. I couldn’t look. One, I wasn’t properly awake. And two, no matter how Dad handled this situation, things were going to change drastically.
“I said, what is going on?” Mother Dearest bellowed.
This time, both Rhys and Thatcher leapt to their feet. Their toes were in my peripheral vision, on either side of me.
“This isn’t what it looks like.” Rhys rumbled.
“You each have two seconds to get your clothes on and get out of my slut of a daughter’s room.” Her voice trembled with unleashed fury.
Please no. Please don’t leave me alone with her. She was going to lose it as soon as they were on the porch.
They rushed to put their clothes on, and my gaze met Thatcher’s for a brief second. I sucked in a breath at the unbridled fear in his. Then it hit me. Thatcher was older. He was twenty-one. Could she do anything? I was eighteen, but an angry mother could make all kinds of dangerous accusations.
“Out! Now!” She slammed her hand against the door so hard, there was most likely a dent in the wall.
Rhys slipped large hands under my arms and steadied me. “Will you be okay?” He whispered.
It wasn’t like she didn’t hear him. My ears were ringing with the silence. Still, she didn’t say anything. When I straightened my shoulders and faced her, I could see her wicked pulse throbbing in her temple.
“They’re leaving. Where’s Dad?” My voice shook, but I stood my ground. With a nod, I motioned for both of the guys to leave. The less time they were here, the less time she’d have to get a look at Thatcher and cause trouble for him later.
Quietly, they squeezed past her and down the stairs. The door closed softly, and an intense violence started to fill the room. It leaked out of her.
If she came after me, I could get away. But could I do it without hurting her? I guessed I’d find out.
“Where’s Dad?” I repeated.
“You don’t get to have him save you this time. Don’t thin
k I’m stupid, Astrid. I know something changed, or happened with you and your father. He never took your side before. Never cared. But with what you just did, he won’t take your side now.” She shook her head and little wisps of hair moved with her.
She lunged, and I froze. I freaking froze. We fell on the bed and she pinned me down with a forearm across my chest.
“What did you do with them?” She screamed. Her free hand yanked on my boy shorts and I kicked her as hard as I could. She grunted and pressed more of her weight on top of me.
I screamed and thrashed, doing everything I could to get her off, but she was too strong. Too determined. “What are you doing? Stop! Stop! Please.” I sobbed as her hand forcefully pushed inside my underwear.
“No! I need to see if you’re as bad as everyone says you are. If you’re the slut you’ve been acting like.”
I rotated my hips, but she followed me. Right before she would have touched where a mother should never touch her child, at least not a grown child, the front door slammed against the wall. Frantic footsteps pounded up the creaking stairs and Rhys burst into the room.
Two seconds later, my mother was no longer draped over me. Instead, Rhys stood over me, his back heaving from exertion? Adrenaline?
“You need to calm down.” He demanded and moved back so his legs touched the bed. I reached out a hand and touched the gritty fabric of his jeans. It was real. He was here.
“This is none of your fucking business!” Mother Dearest screamed, and the shock of hearing her curse was so strong, I flew up to a sitting position.
“I’ve called the cops. They’re on their way. I’m taking Astrid out of here until you calm down.” His hands blindly reached for me, and once he had a good hold, I let him pull me to a standing position. How he did it, I had no idea.
“You can’t do that. You try it, and I’ll claim kidnapping.” She blocked the door, puffing up her petite body as much as she could to prevent our escape.
“No they won’t, they already know you attacked her. Don’t worry. I called my dad’s attorney too. He’ll represent Astrid’s best interests in court. Not to mention the pictures and videos…” He trailed off.
Mother Dearest did something I never thought she’d do. She backed down. Not in so many words, but she stumbled back, and all the blood left her pinched face. The most important thing to my parents was social status. They were heavily involved in church, and the whole community knew it. They were saints of Silver Ranch. Or they wanted to be, once we’d been here a long enough for people to know them. Rhys just threatened to take all of that away. In the blink of an eye, the foundation of her world cracked.
Not wasting any time, I grabbed my camera bag, computer, phone, and backpack. Rhys ushered me past Mother Dearest and out the door. Thatcher was in his car, apparently waiting on us. We slid in, me in shotgun, and Rhys in the back. The doors had barely closed before we peeled out.
“What happened?” Thatcher growled, hunching over the steering wheel as if any second, he was going to transform into the hulk. His anger was such a large presence, it seemed to be trying to rip its way out of him.
“What happened?” He yelled, whipping the car over to the side of the road after we cleared the subdivision.
His fury was just as loud as my mother’s, but I wasn’t afraid of his. I knew he would never hurt me. With trembling fingers, I grazed his arm. He wanted answers but I couldn’t think right now. How was I supposed to answer any questions when I was still processing what had happened? My memory of the last five minutes was hazy at best.
“I need a minute. An hour maybe. Can you just drive for now? I don’t even know what happened.” My voice was hoarse and rough from sleep. Odd since it hadn’t been like that a few minutes ago. Maybe it wasn’t from sleep, but emotion?
After a long pause, he nodded and pulled back onto the road. He was a careful driver. No one would ever have known he was upset based on the way he stayed perfectly inside the lines and adhered to the speed limit.
“My place?” Thatcher grunted. Rhys agreed through a grunt of his own.
The dash said it was six-thirty in the morning. We’d gone to bed only six hours ago. Why was she home? Whenever the parentals went away for their church trips, they were never back until at least ten. My stomach twisted into a gruesome, ugly knot. Something happened. It could have been as simple as someone was sick. Or if could have been a fight between them that sent her back, but there was no way she would have driven two hours at such an early time.
“Rhys, did you really call the cops?” I rotated in my seat and leaned my head against the headrest.
Propping one leg up on the back of Thatcher’s seat, he gave me a steady but blank look. “What was she trying to do?”
“I said I didn’t want to talk about it.” I pursed my lips. She’d been trying to check for signs of my virginity. Even though it hadn’t happened, it still felt wrong, and like something fundamentally broke in our nonexistent relationship.
“I haven’t called the cops. But whether or not I will, depends on what she was trying to do.”
Thatcher pretended he couldn’t hear anything we were saying, merely keeping his eyes on the sun kissed road in front of him. A few cars were out, but for the most part, sunny Colorado was still very much asleep. And even though I should have been tired, depleted, and ready to pass out from all the drama of the morning, I was numb from the ugly truth that dragged me from bed.
And that truth, was that home wasn’t safe.
Zero words were spoken for the rest of the tense ride. No music played. The dirty windows weren’t rolled down to distract us with playful wind or the sounds of the early birds and barking dogs. We just stewed in our thoughts like a large pot of soup someone forgot to stir. Burned pieces sat on the peripheral of our minds.
That was how I felt. The edges of my mind were fried. Again, my whole world was turned upside down. I couldn’t go back, but I couldn’t not go back either. There really wasn’t any win here and I was too emotionally drained to process possible solutions.
“Astrid? You coming?” Thatcher said gently, his head ducked inside the driver’s side where he was standing.
Damn, how had I zoned out so bad I hadn’t noticed us stopping, or the guys getting out? Thatcher’s apartment building loomed behind him, old and run down, but fairly well taken care of. I’d never been so happy to see it.
“Sorry,” I croaked and grabbed my stuff, following Thatcher up the wide concrete stairs. Rhys was the perfect silent sentinel pulling up the rear. If someone took our picture right now, what would they see? Would they see a battered girl, being ushered to safety by two very different guys? Or maybe a girl who had partied a bit too hard and now moved the fun somewhere else? I doubted anyone could take one look at our expressions and interpret fun as the reigning emotion.
Inside, Thatcher tossed his keys on the cream-colored counter and tugged me down the hallway with two light fingers under my arm. His steps were hesitant, almost as if he thought I were fragile, so perilously close to shattering in a way I couldn’t be put back together. If I weren’t so numb, I might have been offended.
What my mother tried to do wasn’t good. But there were many, many people who had it worse. It wasn’t fair to those that did, to go without comfort and compassion when I received it so freely from these guys. Whether they knew it or not, coming back for me cemented them as true heroes in my eyes. They would never look like ordinary guys again. Not that they had in the first place.
“Why don’t you take a shower? I’ll grab you some of Trinity’s cloths, and then we can all take a nap. After that, we can talk about what happened.” All his words made up statements. No subtle inquiry about what I wanted, only a firm declaration of how it would be. And right now, I was okay with that.
“Got it.” I moved past him, ready to shut the door when he caught it.
“One thing.” He said and I lifted my gaze to his. “Leave the door unlocked so I can get in to leave clothes, and don�
��t step on the shower curtain again. It cost me a whole fifteen bucks to replace it.” He smirked and some of my life seeped back into my brittle bones.
“You wish I’d step on the curtain again. It was the height of your entertainment for days, I’m sure.” I snickered and shut the door before he could reply.
I was usually an efficient shower taker. I just didn’t get how people could stand under the water until it went cold. I had better things to do, like stalk people. And take pictures.
Today, I was one of those people that could live in the shower. I might as well have been a merry mermaid with how good the water felt. Under the hot, steaming spray, the water cleansed me of the ugly morning. Only when the last of the even slightly lukewarm water left the nozzle, did I turn the shower off.
“About time!” Thatcher called from the front room.
Wincing, I pulled on the clothes sitting on the rusted toilet lid. Shame on me. Where were the little old women at church when I needed a Bible thrown at me? I’d do something extra for Thatcher in exchange for running up his water bill.
When I exited the bathroom, low sounds from the TV trickled down the hallway. Thatcher was on one end of his couch, and Rhys was sprawled over the mismatched loveseat. With a soft pat on the stiff cushion, Thatcher invited me to sit with him. The couch was decent. Not new, but not from the time of dinosaurs either. A plain blue, easily fitting in with his bachelor pad vibe. If the bachelor pad belonged to a starving artist. Two yellow pillows were tucked in each corner and something told me, they were the touch of his sister.
I laid down, shoving the yellow pillow in the crook of my neck and bent my legs up so my feet weren’t bothering him.
That’s when I noticed what they were watching.
“An alien show?” Wow. Out of all the things they could be watching, like a hockey game, or a Bob Ross show, a show about aliens never crossed my mind.
Thatcher pinched the soft skin of my calf. “Shush you. Ancient Aliens is a very relaxing and thought-provoking show. You’ve clearly never watched it. Relax and see why Giorgio Tsoukalos is so brilliant.”
Ugly Truths: A Contemporary YA Romance (Astrid Scott Series Book 2) Page 10