“What are you saying, Caidyn? Are you saying he wanted Demi? Are you telling me I’m in the process of mowing my bro’s turf?”
In all honesty, I don’t know how I’ll respond if he answers with anything but a stern no. I don’t want to hurt my brother, but I sure as fuck don’t want to step back from Demi. She cried in my arms for hours last night. She’s sleeping in my bed right now. Even despite the fucked-up mess her uncle forced us to endure, we’ve bonded. I feel closer to her than my own blood. I can’t give that up.
“No, that’s not what I’m saying, Maddox.” The relieved breath I push out is sucked back in when he adds, “I’m saying he cares about you so much, he wanted to save you from this.” The back of his hand barely touches my chest, but it feels like he sucker-punched me. “When you went against a bully double your age to protect Demi, your chivalry was awarded with a broken nose. How much worse would it have been if that bully was the same one you’re facing now.”
I understand what he’s saying, and I get where his worry comes from, but I don’t have to fucking agree with it. “So I should just step back and let the bullies win?”
Caidyn shakes his head. “That’s why Saint altered the direction of his course. He saw the fear in Demi’s eyes when he approached her, and he realized he’d fucked up. He wasn’t saving you from a bully. He was being a bully… to Demi.” He snags an apple out of the fruit bowl on the island, then tosses it in the air like our conversation isn’t half as serious as it is. “We all make mistakes, Ox. Even you.”
After winking at my gaped jaw, he crunches his teeth through the apple before he walks away. I should go after him, his unusual use of a nickname is a sure-fire indication he’s on to me, but when his dramatic exit is quickly followed by Demi’s arrival, I can only get my feet to move in one direction.
“Hey. How are you feeling?”
Demi drags her teeth over her lower lip to lessen the size of her smile from the fumble of my words. I’m not known for being a jittering imbecile. It just appears as if I have no control over anything when Demi is in the picture. Can you blame me? Even with her face bruised and swollen, she’d still take out Seacoast Private’s most attractive senior title. “Good. I’m not sure what was in the pain medication you gave me, but it knocked me out for a good…”
When she strays her eyes around the cabin, seeking a clock, I lower my eyes to my watch. “Almost a whole four hours. Not a bad effort for a first-time sleepover.” I hit her with a frisky wink, lowering the panic in her eyes before pledging, “I’ll aim for eight next time.”
My reply has a double meaning, and if the heat on Demi’s cheeks is anything to go by, she knows it.
I relish her bloomed face for a couple of seconds before guiding her deeper into the kitchen. “Are you hungry?” She ordered an entrée last night, but since I was being an ass, she more picked at it than devoured it. She must be starved.
With a shrug, Demi replies, “I could eat.”
I send a silent prayer to heaven when my briefest touch causes her voice to come out higher than normal before saying, “Great, because I’m starved, and I have no fucking clue how any of this shit works.” I wave my hand over the six-burner gas stovetop my parents had installed after one of the infamous Walsh parties ended with a kitchen fire. It isn’t what you’re thinking. No one was cooking. Saint was just seeking a new term for Fireball whiskey. “If you promise not to tell anyone how bad of a cook I am, I promise to make your super early breakfast half-edible.”
“You’re going to cook for me?” I realize food is the way to her heart when the highness of her tone has me convinced someone put a helium tank in the air vents.
I drag my finger down her nose that looks like a slippery slide since she has to crank her neck to peer at me. She’s a good foot shorter than me. “Under your supervision, of course. We may end up dead if you don’t guide me.”
I’m lying. It isn’t my specialty, but I can see my skills flourishing if it maintains the smile Demi is wearing now. It isn’t a full grin, the busted lump on the side of her face won’t allow a full smile, but it’s clear she’s content.
“Are you sure you have time for this now? It’s pretty early.”
I do a singular dip of my chin. “I have all the time in the world.” For you.
Her smile would have you convinced she heard my unspoken words. As would what she says next, “Then, I guess I better cook. I don’t want you dying on me.”
Three empty plates of egg benedict and many, many flirty touches later, I test the authenticity of the zap buzzing between Demi and me.
Get your mind out of the gutter. My lips aren’t going anywhere near Demi’s unless she forces them together. Then, all bets are off. I’m merely verifying she’s as strong as the little girl who kneeled on a fresh wound to comfort the boy hurt while sticking up for her.
“Demi, can I ask a favor?”
She stiffens for a mere second before she stacks the final plate into the dishwasher like she never froze. “Sure.” Her short reply can’t weaken the obvious. She’s never been given anything without expecting something in return for it. Not even a shoulder to cry on.
Although the knowledge has me wanting to backtrack, I can’t. If I don’t do this, everything I’ve done the past six months is pointless, and her bully wins.
“Will you let me photograph your bruises?” When fret fills her face quicker than fear, I talk faster. “If you want to hold your uncle responsible for what he did, you’ll need evidence to back up your claims.” I drift my eyes over her face that will heal but is far from healed. “If we don’t give them proof, it’ll be our word against his.” I have the proof I need. I just want to gather it without a heap of lies. A lie can’t hide the truth, but it can change the truth.
Demi’s mouth remains shut, but I see her working the ‘our’ part of my statement through her head on repeat. Once she has it decompartmentalized, she strays her eyes in the direction Caidyn walked after devouring the meal we made together like I’m a sous-chef in the making.
“He’ll be dead to the world the instant his head hits the pillow. Food comas do that to people.” If he isn’t, I’ll knock him the fuck out if it’s the only way I can get her to agree to this. “If you’re not comfortable with me doing it, I could ask my mom or Justine to come over later today?”
She shakes her head so fast, I’m confident her eyes feel like balls in a pinball machine. I assume her denial centers around her not wanting more people to see her banged up than necessary but am proven wrong when she stutters out, “I’m fine with you doing it.”
“You’ll let me take them?” I sound like a prepubescent teen instead of an almost twenty-two-year-old.
Demi’s head shake switches to a nod. “You can’t beat bullies with silence.”
That’s what my mom said when she was called to the principal’s office the afternoon my nose was broken. She wasn’t mad all four of her sons were being suspended for fighting, she was proud they stood up for what they believed in. She would have just preferred if it weren’t four against one. It wouldn’t have been if Glen’s friends hadn’t bolted the instant Landon and Caidyn showed up with their school blazers pushed up to their elbows. Saint was close behind, he just had to detour past the crossing lady, so he could borrow her stop sign. He always brings a bat to every game we play. It’s just rare for it to be shaped like a bat since we’ve never played baseball.