by Abby Brooks
After a few minutes of driving, I started to feel bad. Sometimes—okay, most times—I was too hotheaded for my own good. Wyatt deserved a little more gratitude and a lot less anger. “Look. What I meant to say was thank you for coming to get me.”
He nodded, but wouldn’t look at me.
Uncomfortable in the awkward silence, I continued, “What do you think he put in my drink?”
“From the smell of you, I’d say about half a bottle of Jim Beam.”
He fell silent once again and I was too focused on trying not to vomit to keep restarting the conversation.
“You good?” Wyatt asked as he pulled up in front of the condo. “Think you can make it inside or do you need help?”
I swallowed hard as nausea sent a rush of saliva into my mouth. I was definitely not good. Wyatt took one look at me and leapt into action, lurching out of the car, and yanking my door open. “Come on, Kara. I’ve got you.” He helped me stand and the jostling and bouncing drew a long moan past my lips.
“I don’t feel so great.”
Wyatt murmured soothing words as he helped me to the front door of the condo. Panic rose into my throat, with whatever had happened to me at the party coming up right after it. The moment the door swung open, I ran in the direction of the bathroom, barely making it to the floor in front of the toilet before my stomach rid itself of an entire evening’s worth of booze.
Wyatt held my hair and rubbed my back, then got me a drink of water. “You have any ibuprofen?” he asked as I clutched the wall.
I pointed a shaking finger at the medicine cabinet. He retrieved the bottle, then handed me two pills, made me sip some more water, then stuck around for another bout of vomiting before helping me into bed.
“Wyatt?” I asked as I pulled the covers up around me.
“Yeah?”
“You’re the only one who came to help.”
It was a thing of importance.
A thing I wouldn’t forget.
When I needed him, he was there, even if he was an asshole about the whole thing and I was a bitch in return. The room spun and I closed my eyes, but I swore he stared at me for several long minutes before I passed out.
Chapter Seven
Wyatt
Madeline was nowhere to be found and for as uncomfortable as I was staying in Kara’s room, I couldn’t justify leaving. What if she started getting sick again and didn’t wake up? Just because the girl infuriated me on a level I couldn’t understand didn’t mean I wanted her to choke to death on her own vomit.
I helped Kara out of her shoes and tucked her into bed fully clothed. Her gratitude was sweet and innocent and went a long way towards easing my frustration at how stubborn and bullheaded she was. Poor thing was just stumbling from mistake to mistake with no one to look out for her. Part of me was proud to be the one who did.
She fell asleep within seconds and I had no idea what to do with myself. Camp out in her room? Hunt down her mom? Make a bed on the couch? Or just call it a night and make my way home?
That last idea was out of the question. I couldn’t leave. And if the main point of me staying here was to make sure she was safe, then I would need to stay close. I took a seat in a chair and prepared myself for a long, sleepless night, swearing that the moment I heard Madeline come home, I’d be out of there.
I was furious at that asshole who spiked her drink. It had taken every ounce of control not to storm back into that party and…what? Beat up a teenager? I wasn’t the kind of guy who spoke with his fists in the first place, but hitting a kid in the face was out of the question. Even if he did deserve it.
The slow addition of alcohol to a girl’s drink wasn’t a tactic I had ever used, but I knew enough guys that had. She was lucky he hadn’t tried something more narcotic. Something that would have left her with zero memory of the night and a reputation she couldn’t shake.
A girl who looked like her, with those gray eyes and that olive skin. That dark hair cascading down her back to a beautifully curved set of hips…this wouldn’t be the last time she attracted the wrong kind of attention. There had to be some way to protect her, to give her the tools she needed to protect herself.
And then I realized what an idiot I was being, wasting energy worrying about her when she seemed hellbent on getting herself into trouble. I had barely known her a few months and this was the second time she needed me to come to her rescue. How many times had she needed rescued before she knew me? Was she a perpetual damsel in distress? Playing the victim so hard she didn’t even recognize she had some measure of responsibility in what happened to her?
Or, given what I knew of her mother, maybe Kara was an actual damsel in distress, bumbling through life with zero parental guidance. Or worse, the guidance of the kind of woman who latched onto men with wives and money.
For a split second, I felt genuine concern for the girl, but the moment was short-lived, and I chalked it up to stress and fatigue.
The sound of a door slamming jolted me from sleep. I lifted my head, confused, until I remembered where I was. Kara’s room was still dark and the clock on her bedside table read four-thirty. If she was going to throw up, she probably would have done it already, so I figured it was safe for me to leave. Besides, her mom was obviously home and making a racket in the kitchen, singing to herself while she banged plates and silverware onto the counter.
A real class act, I thought to myself. Showing up this early in the morning then making enough noise to wake the dead while her daughter slept.
I hadn’t even processed the fact that Kara told me she tried to reach out to the woman for help and received nothing but silence in return. I already hated Madeline. If I thought too hard on her lack of parenting skills, I couldn’t be sure I would keep my mouth shut when I saw her.
Steeling myself for the inevitable confrontation at the sight of a grown man slipping out of her teenaged daughter’s bedroom, I headed toward the sound, making enough noise to alert Madeline to my approach so I didn’t scare the shit out her as I came around the corner.
“Kara? That you, baby?” Judging by the slurred words, mother and daughter had similar nights.
“Umm…no.” I stepped into the kitchen, my explanation at the ready, and a wide smile broke across Madeline’s face.
“Well if it isn’t Wyatt Hutton.” She slowly closed the refrigerator and flicked on the overhead light, her heels clicking against the tile floor as she gave me the once-over.
“I know how this looks…” I began, already on the defensive.
“You don’t have to explain to me, sugar. I told Kara you were interested in her. I’m just glad she finally took that stick out of her ass and made her move.”
My jaw dropped. “You have it so wrong, I don’t even know what to say. I am not interested in your little girl.” I explained the night and the events that lead to me choosing to stay. “I just wanted to make sure she was safe. And now that you’re here, I can be on my way.” Though something made me wonder if Kara was ever safe, given Madeline’s last statement.
Smooth as silk, the woman changed tracks. “That was incredibly sweet of you to make sure she was okay,” she said, suddenly playing the concerned mother. “I don’t know why she didn’t call me.”
“According to Kara, she did. Several times.” I backed out of the kitchen, feeling less and less okay about leaving, though I couldn’t find a rational reason as to why I would feel that way other than the woman set off my internal alarms.
Madeline thanked me again and walked me to the door, waving as I lowered myself into my car. As much as I was ready to get home and climb into bed, I couldn’t make myself leave. I stared at the woman waving from the doorway, anxiety churning in my stomach. All I needed to do was put the car in gear and get the hell out of Dodge. I just…couldn’t.
“Come on, Wyatt,” I said as I drummed my fingers against the steering wheel. “These are not your clowns, and this is not your circus.”
I couldn’t shake the feeling that Kara
was in danger. Or she would be in danger again. And for as much as she wanted to be seen as having it all together, it was clear she didn’t. Cursing under my breath, I turned off the engine and climbed out of the car.
“I forgot something,” I murmured to Madeline. “Mind if I go up and grab it?”
“Oh sure, sugar,” she said in a voice that disgusted me. “Take your time.”
I crept back into Kara’s room and fished her phone out of her purse. “Wyatt?” Her groggy voice caught my attention. “What the hell you doin’ with my phone?”
“I’m adding myself to your contacts. Just in case.”
Kara nodded, her eyes already closed again. “Thank you,” she murmured and she sounded so genuinely grateful, something shifted in my heart, making room for this girl I wanted to hate.
Chapter Eight
Kara
My head pounded. My stomach boiled. Sandpaper lined my throat and my eyes refused to open. I groaned and rolled onto my back, then groaned again as the whole world continued to roll. What fresh hell was this?
I managed to open my eyes and immediately squeezed them shut as light bombarded my poor, aching head. Todd Hudgins would pay for what he did to me last night. I didn’t know when. And I didn’t know how. But he wouldn’t get away with whatever he did to make me feel like I had been run over by a semitruck several times throughout the night.
When I finally managed to open my eyes, I found a glass of water and two ibuprofen tablets sitting on my bedside table next to my phone. I stared for a minute, my hungover brain trying to figure out where they might have come from. While I appreciated the gesture, it seemed a little too ‘aware’ for Mom. Though the little voice inside, the one that always hoped she would grow up and realize how many mistakes she made with me, started whispering.
Maybe she finally got to her phone, it said. Maybe she saw all those missed messages and the guilt goosed the maternal side of her I knew had to be buried in there somewhere, lost under all her selfish BS.
As I sat up, fumbling for the pills, a flash of memory from last night derailed that train of thought. Wyatt had been here. He had helped me while I threw up—not once, but twice. And when I was done, he had helped me into bed. And, for some reason, I thought I remembered him standing over me in the middle of the night, messing with my phone.
The memory came fully into focus and I knew without a doubt that Mom hadn’t been the one to leave the water and pills on my table. It had been Wyatt Hutton. After coming to rescue me at the party, after helping my drunk self out of his car, after having the balls to lecture me about my mistakes last night, after holding my hair and helping me upstairs, he had come back to put his number into my phone.
Just in case, he had said.
And at some point after I succumbed to sleep yet again, he left these things here so they would be waiting when I woke up. Because he knew I would need them. I flopped back onto my pillow, smiling like a crazy person at the thought of him taking care of me, though the smile faded as my mind churned.
I had no idea what to do with that bit of kindness and I certainly couldn’t begin to unravel what it possibly meant, or what he thought he could get from me. Because let’s be honest. He was the son of a lying, cheating drunk. Even though Burke was good to me, not many people could say the same and I was sure the apple didn’t fall too far from the tree. With those thoughts swirling through my aching head, I took the pills and a long swig of water, then fell back to sleep.
Saturday was hard, compliments of my first ever hangover and a mom who was sure I had slept with Wyatt. I swore to her I hadn’t, then let her know how much I needed her help the night before. “So, you know, thanks for being there,” I finished, glaring at her as she nursed a hangover of her own.
“Oh, Poopsie. Don’t you think you’re a little too old to need your mommy to come rescue you?”
I poured myself a cup of coffee and leveled her with a cold stare. “That excuse might be valid if you hadn’t used it on me since I was three years old.”
Mom stormed off, locked herself in her bedroom, and didn’t emerge again. I stared at my phone for a good hour before sending Wyatt a thank you text and almost jumped out of my skin when it buzzed with a reply immediately.
How are you feeling? Hanging in there?
I smiled as I tapped out a response. I’ve seen better days.
Did you find the water and the pills? The trick is to stay hydrated.
My smile brightened. I did. I really appreciate you taking care of me last night. I know I was difficult, and I’m sorry for that. My friend says I have a warrior’s spirit and sometimes it gets the better of me.
My phone went silent for a few minutes, then buzzed again. I’m glad I could help. You know where to find me if you need rescued again.
I grinned wildly as I stared at the screen, then put down my phone and refilled my coffee.
I spent Sunday at the beach, so that kind of made up for Saturday, but Monday sucked hard. The rumor mill had been grinding away since I left Todd’s side Friday night and I spent the morning ignoring side-eyed whispers from half the school. For all my self-righteous fury the morning after the party, I had yet to figure out how to make the asshole pay. I didn’t have the social clout he did. Which was fine. I had self-respect instead. What I didn’t have was the respect of my classmates. Not anymore.
“So, what the hell happened this weekend?” Brooke plopped down beside me at the lunch table, her tray of French fries clattering against mine. “You slept with Todd Hudgins and didn’t tell me?”
If the story was true, I would deserve the outraged tone, but it wasn’t true, and Brooke should have known better. “Et tu, Brute?”
“Oh, lord help me,” she said on a heavy sigh. “You know it’s bad when you start quoting Shakespeare.”
I rolled my eyes. “Come on now. Of all the people at this school, I thought I could trust you not to judge me before you heard the whole story. Do you really think I would do something so stupid, and then not bother to tell you?”
“Yeah. Actually, I do.” Brooke twisted the cap off a water bottle and eyed me while taking a swig.
“Gee, thanks.” I puffed out my cheeks, pretending to be blasé about her statement while a tiny voice chattered away in the back of my head.
She thinks you’re just like your mom. You said it yourself, after all. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. If it’s true about Wyatt, it could be true about you.
Brooke put her water bottle down and kicked my shin under the table. “You know I love you. And you know I don’t really believe the story. And you know, that I know, if you slept with Todd Hudgins, I’d be the first to hear about it.”
“Is that what they’re saying?” I asked. “They all think I slept with him?” I had done my best to avoid the rumors, keeping my head down and my focus on my schoolwork.
Brooke scoffed. “I wish that was all they’re saying.”
The look on her face said it would be better for me if I stuck with my original policy of paying the rumors zero attention and getting on with my life. Which only made my curiosity burn brighter. I pressed and she finally relented.
“They’re saying you sucked his dick in the living room, let him finger you in the kitchen, then fucked him on the stairs. And, they’re saying you were a shitty lay.”
I dropped my chin into my hands. “This one will be fun to live down.”
“I don’t think there’s any living this one down.” Brooke popped a fry into her mouth. “So, what really happened?”
I explained the events that led up to me locking myself in the bathroom and Brooke shook her head. “I am so sorry I wasn’t there for you.”
“It’s not your fault you were in Colorado with your family.”
“No. But still. The first time you really needed my help and I was halfway across the country. After all the times you’ve helped me, it would have felt good to return the favor.”
I wanted to point out that if she had been there
, she would have been too wasted to be of any use, hence, all the times I had to be the one helping her. I let that point slide, though. Brooke meant well, even if she didn’t see herself honestly.
“How did you get home?” she asked, pausing to wave at someone over my shoulder. “Did your mom actually prove herself useful and come get you?”
I laughed. “Uh. No. I had to call one of her boyfriends.”
Brooke’s eyes widened. “And he came to get you?”
“Wrong again. The boyfriend’s son came to my rescue.”
Again, I finished in my head.
I found myself explaining everything that led up to me discovering the water and pills on my table Saturday morning, followed by the addition of his contact info in my phone. “I can’t figure it out,” I finished, as I tried for the hundredth time to see Wyatt’s angle.
Brooke scrunched up her nose. “Figure what out?”
“What he wants.” I stabbed at my food. “We had this perfectly fine thing going where we hated each other. So, what’s with the nice stuff all the sudden?”
“Maybe…I don’t know…he’s a decent guy? And maybe he sees your mom for what she is and since he’s had to rescue you twice now, he decided to skip the middle man and just give you his phone number so you could call him directly the next time?”
“First of all, thanks for assuming there’s gonna be a next time. And second of all, I’m not buying it. No one is nice unless they want something.”
Not my mom.
Not Todd Hudgins.
And not Wyatt Hutton.
Brooke punched me in the shoulder. “I’m someone.”
“Huh?”
“I’m someone. And I’m nice to you. And all I want is your scintillating company.”
“See?” I said, holding up a finger. “Point proven. You’re nice because you want something, just like everyone else in the world.” I grinned and she rolled her eyes.
Brooke returned her focus to her food while I worried about the utter destruction of what little reputation I had. Not that it mattered all that much. I really didn’t care what anyone at that school thought about me. I’d be out of here the second I turned eighteen and Todd Hudgins and all his stupid friends could rot.