A second later, he places his hand on my lower back and, using his body, makes way for us to pass. I never considered myself a damsel in need of a savior, but Troy’s protectiveness feels nice.
We continue in silence until we get to my car. When I grab the door handle, I realize I’m still shaking and in no condition to drive.
Troy circles my wrist, keeping me from opening the door. “I’ll drive.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You can’t drive with your shoulder like that.”
“You’re still reeling from what happened.” He frowns. “Your arm is shaking.”
“I can drive,” Ben pipes up.
I glance at him with a refusal on the tip of my tongue. He can drive in Littleton, which is much quieter than here.
“I can do it, Charlie. Trust me,” he insists.
“You have your driver’s license?” Troy asks.
“Yes. I’ve had it for four months already.” Ben puffs his chest out proudly.
Troy turns back to me, concern in his eyes. “Let him drive, babe.”
I want to argue, but if I say anything, it might do more harm than good. I know my brother—he’s putting up a tough front, but he’s a mess inside. Growing up, he fought depression among other things because of assholes who treated him badly.
“Okay,” I say. “But I’m sitting shotgun.” I walk around the car, leaving Troy no choice but to slide across the back seat.
During the drive, I expect him to ask for details about what happened, but he keeps quiet. The silence becomes a heavy blanket of discomfort, and I eventually can’t take it anymore.
“The game was amazing,” I pipe up, turning to face Troy in the back seat.
He nods. “It was, but hell, I was a wreck the whole time. I thought I was going to lose my voice with the way I was shouting.”
“I kind of lost mine,” I say.
Troy smirks. “Hmm, I did notice a new sexiness to it.”
“Dude, I’m right here,” Ben complains.
“Oops. Sorry.”
I laugh despite the horrible way the day ended.
“Is there any chance you would consider going to the party with me tonight?” Troy asks softly. “It’s going to be epic.”
I bite my lower lip, torn between a straight “No” and a “Maybe”. After the altercation with Brooke’s friend, and the way the blonde was acting all shady, I do want to show up at the party as Troy’s date. Call it vanity or whatever with a pinch of possessiveness. But there’s Ben to consider.
“I don’t know. Are there going to be more people like that airless bimbo who name-called Ben?”
Troy winces. “Honestly, I don’t know.”
“You should go, Charlie,” Ben says. “I think I’m ready to go home if Mom is feeling better.”
My stomach bottoms out, and my chest, which was already tight as hell, constricts further. Ben staying with me was a way to distract him from the turmoil back at my folks’. I feel guilty, even though it’s irrational. I can’t control what ignorant people say or do.
“If that’s what you want.”
Ben nods. “Yeah, it is. I had fun today though.”
I watch his profile, trying to sniff out the lie. His expression is serene, but Ben’s always had a better poker face than me.
If he spirals down a dark tunnel again because of that bitch, I will break her nose for real the next time I see her.
32
TROY
I confess that knowing Charlie went Million Dollar Baby on Brooke’s friend made my admiration for her grow. I’d already known she was fearless and short-tempered, but her fierce protection of her brother moved me more than she could have known.
It also opened up old wounds that have never fully healed. I failed Robbie by not paying attention, and he drowned a few feet from me. Erroneously, I thought that was my parents’ job, but they made it abundantly clear that I should have kept an eye on him. I was his big brother, after all. They weren’t wrong, and the guilt has consumed me ever since.
Their mother came by to pick up Ben earlier, and with that, Charlie had no valid excuse not to come to the party with me. Regardless, I thought I’d have to use my convincing skills, but she surprised me by agreeing to come without me having to ask twice.
We had an early dinner, and now I’m waiting for her to get ready. I never asked if she’d bought any of those sexy tops she was looking at. They were nice, but I’d prefer if she wore a dress again. I love her legs; plus, a dress would give me easier access. I’m already over our bet. Life is too short, and I’m not going to keep punishing myself over nothing. God knows I already do that plenty with reason.
I’m nursing a beer while I wait. The only good thing about not being able to drive until the sling is off is that I don’t have to worry about my alcohol intake.
I turn when I hear Charlie come down the stairs. Those old wooden boards creak so loudly that even the neighbors must hear when one of us goes up and down.
My jaw drops as I drink her in. She’s not wearing jeans—thank fuck—but a short black pleated skirt with a spiked belt looped around her hips. Her top is a vintage Highlander T-shirt with the movie’s catch phrase “There can be only one” typed across it. There are a bunch of headless dude icons and one with his head still attached, holding a sword. Man, I need to get me one. It’s awesome. But what really completes the look and causes a stir in my jeans is the leather jacket and the over-the-knee fuck-me boots she’s wearing. I won’t be able to leave her alone tonight, or jackasses will be all over her.
“Hi. What do you think?” she asks with a cheeky smile. She knows perfectly well she looks hot as sin.
“Okay, I changed my mind. Let’s stay home so I can get you out of those clothes stat.”
She chuckles, shaking her head. “No way, Jose. I didn’t spend an hour getting ready for you to destroy my look with your caveman urges.”
I cross the distance between us in two long strides and pull Charlie flush to my body. “Oh, babe. You’ll know how caveman I can be when I bend you over that couch and fuck you until you can’t remember your own name.”
“What are you saying, Troy? Is that your declaration of defeat?”
The “Yes” is on the tip of my tongue, but when I do say it out loud, I’m going to make good on my promise and pound her into oblivion. Damn it. Thinking about it is making my cock rock hard in a painful way.
“Hmm, no. This is my declaration of victory when you come to your senses and admit you can’t resist this sexy machine.”
A bubble of laughter escapes her throat, dousing the furnace inside me.
“Okay, Mr. Sexy Machine. We’ll see how the evening goes.”
I step back and then hold up her right hand for inspection. It’s still a bit red, but the swelling has gone down. “Does it hurt?”
“Not so much. It was a good call putting ice on it when we got back.”
“I can’t believe I missed the punch. I would have loved to have seen that.”
She pulls her hand back as her face twists into a scowl. “It felt good punching her in the moment, but it doesn’t erase the ugliness that came out of her mouth. Words can’t be unsaid.”