“Evie, open the door,” Derrick shouts again. “Or somebody open it. I need to make sure my sister is all right.”
“See, he’s just worried about you,” Jess whispers to Evie as she shoves her chair back. “It’ll be fine. But I’m going to wait this out in my room with my noise-cancelling headphones on because conflict is scary, and Derrick is loud.”
A beat later, Jess has vanished, and Cameron is quickly gathering up the now empty dishes. “I’ll head into my room, too. Give you some privacy.”
“Well, I’m not going to my room,” Harlow says, propping her hands on her hips as she glares at the door. “I’m going to tell Satan to get the hell off our stoop and come back when he learns how to use his inside voice.”
“No, I’ll talk to him,” Evie says, rising unsteadily to her feet. “Putting it off will only make things worse. But I’ll take him to a coffee shop or something. You shouldn’t have to hide in your rooms all night because I made a dumb mistake and my brother is flipping out about it.”
Harlow starts to protest, but Cameron shoots her a hard look and nods toward the other side of the apartment, making me think that staying out of the Olsen family drama is something they’ve talked about before.
Her fingers clench and unclench at her sides before she finally says in a rush of breath, “Fine, I’ll go to my room, but call me if you need me, Evie, and I’ll be there in a hot second, ready to hand Derrick his ass.”
Evie’s lips twitch but a smile doesn’t form. “Okay. Thanks.” She lifts crossed fingers into the air. “Wish me luck.”
Harlow and Cameron pull their own vanishing act, but I don’t have a room to disappear to and I wouldn’t go there even if I did. I’m not just an innocent bystander in this family drama; I’ve been a contributor to the dysfunction by turning a blind eye to it for far too long.
But that stops now.
I’m right behind Evie as she moves past the kitchen into the entryway where the roommates’ jackets are hung neatly on hooks with their shoes lined up beneath. She wipes her hands on her pajama pants, pulling in a deep breath as she reaches for the deadbolt.
“Don’t worry,” I murmur softly. “You’ve got this.”
She jumps several inches in the air and jerks a quick glance over her shoulder. “Oh my God,” she says. “You scared me. I had no idea you were there.”
“Who’s there?” Derrick demands—loudly—from outside. “If you have a guy in there attending to your ‘urges,’ tell him to get his clothes on right now. Before I kick his ass out onto the street buck naked and covered in boot marks.” His fist hits the door again, making it rattle on its hinges. “You hear that, asshole? You think it’s okay to take advantage of drunk girls? Well, you’re about to learn a lesson about consent, you fucking piece of shit.”
“Stop,” Evie shouts back, thumping her own fist against the door. “I’m not letting you in until you calm down, Derrick. And I don’t have a man in here. It’s just Ian.”
“Thanks,” I mutter.
“He helped the others get me home,” Evie continues, shooting me a “you know what I mean” look.
And I do know what she means. But for some reason I still don’t like it.
“Ian?” Derrick sounds stumped for a second but recovers quickly. “Ian, open the door. We need to start damage control on this. ASAP.”
Evie flips the deadbolt, unhooks the chain lock, and turns the knob, whipping the door open to reveal Derrick in a sweat-soaked t-shirt and running shorts, making me think he must have run here all the way from his place in Hell’s Kitchen.
He starts to barge in, but Evie holds up a hand, fingers spread wide. “Nope. We’re not going to do this. No yelling. No damage control. This is my problem, and I’m going to fix it.”
Derrick arches a thick, dark brow. He and Evie share the same pale green eyes, but that’s the extent of the family resemblance. He has brown hair instead of blond, olive skin, and towers a full foot over his petite sister. He could easily overpower her and storm inside, but he stops, making me hope my planned intervention won’t be necessary, after all.
“And how are you going to do that?” he asks. “Do you have an attorney on retainer I don’t know about?”
“No. But I’m prepared to face the consequences of my actions.”
“Jesus, Evie, I—”
“But I’m also barely functional right now,” she cuts in. “I need to sleep and wake up ready to face all of this tomorrow. On the bright side, I didn’t do anything illegal or awful. I just embarrassed myself in front of my ex. I’m sure there are a lot of people out there who can empathize. Who hasn’t wanted to give the person who dumped them a piece of their mind?”
“Or barf on their new girlfriend,” I add.
Derrick’s gaze shifts my way, his eyes narrowing. “So, you were there the entire time? And you just let her get wasted right in front of you, without even trying to stop it?”
“He wasn’t sitting with us,” Evie says before I can answer. “And Ian doesn’t ‘let me’ do anything and neither do you. I make my own decisions. I’m a grown woman, Derrick.”
“You really acted like one tonight,” he shoots back.
“Yeah, I did.” She slides her shoulders back and lifts her chin. “Sure, I did a dumb thing, but grown-ups make mistakes sometimes. Everyone does. And that’s okay. I don’t have to be perfect to be a good person or worthy of respect.”
Derrick curses beneath his breath before continuing with forced patience, “Sadly, that’s not the way the world works, Evie. Especially these days. One mistake, one misstep, one video that makes you look bad and goes viral is all it takes. You can ruin your entire life before it even gets started. Do you honestly think upper management is going to want to keep you on as an art therapist helping the team with their anger issues once they see you can’t even control your own temper?”
Evie’s shoulders slump. “I didn’t think about that.”
“Obviously. You didn’t think about anything.” He drags a hand through his sweat-damp hair. “You got wasted and started running your mouth, just like Dad after Mom left.”
Evie flinches. “I’m not like Dad. That was the first time I’ve ever been that drunk, and I have zero plans to get that way again.”
He exhales as he mutters, “Right.”
“That is right,” she insists. “Now, I’m going to get ready for bed. If you want to talk more about this, call me in the morning.”
“By tomorrow, the situation will be even worse,” Derrick says. “We need to send take-down notices now and get an attorney to start drafting cease and desist letters for—”
“Surely it can wait until morning,” I cut in. “She’s had a rough night already.”
“Your input isn’t required, Ian,” Derrick snaps. “If you wanted to help, you should have stepped in before she made an ass out of herself.”
“Like she said, I wasn’t sitting at their table,” I say. “And yeah, I did notice that she was hitting the whiskey a little hard, but—”