Cross looked at the others again. “We do it as a crew, or we don’t do it at all.”

We were about to thank Race, in our way.

Cross took me home.

We made it to my room before Channing appeared. I was prepared for an interrogation, but surprisingly, none came. He just asked if I was okay. Albeit, he asked a bit gruffly, but he seemed appeased once I told him I was fine. He didn’t question why I’d been at Alex’s place or ask how the whole thing had happened, like a normal parent would.

Heather lingered in the doorway after Channing left, biting her lip, her hair in a braid. She kept looking me up and down, as if searching for any outward injury that hadn’t been treated. She kept pausing at Cross’ hand on my hip. He wasn’t helping me stand or anything, but the touch was nice. I found myself leaning into him, into his hand, and he flexed it in response. He tugged me even tighter against him.

“Where are the other two?” Heather asked.

“They were tired,” Cross said. “Went home.”

Her smirk told us she didn’t believe him. “Okay.” She nodded in the direction Channing had gone. “He’s not questioning you because it’s your crew business, same as with him.”

Heather was our go-between.

I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing, but I nodded. I got it. “Thanks.”

She raised an eyebrow. “No need to thank me. Just doing my duty as someone who cares about both of you—you know, trying to smooth out sibling fights before they happen.”

“Is that what he does for you and Brandon?”

She laughed this time. “Yeah. Right. He makes it worse, views it as his personal reality show.”

I felt a pinch at her words.

Channing was funny, and viewed as a charmer, but not with me. Never with me.

I wasn’t worthy enough.

I firmed my jaw, swallowing thickly. As if sensing the storm in me, Cross’ hand smoothed over my back. His fingers slipped under my shirt and rested on my skin.

“So,” Heather continued, her eyes noting that touch before flicking back to my face. “A normal girl who had been in a beatdown would stay in bed, watch movies, and have a good, old-fashioned cry fest. I’m assuming you’re heading right back out?”

The painkillers were making everything a bit fuzzy, but I nodded. “Yep.”

She sighed. “Okay.”

I waited.

This was where a parent or guardian figure would get angry. How dare I go back out, especially now. Where was I going? What would I be doing? When would I be back? Channing hadn’t asked about the fight, so I wasn’t sure if Heather would step into those shoes now.

She ran her fingers through the end of her hair. “Goddamn, I need a cigarette.” She started to leave, but turned back and pointed at me. “Be fucking safe tonight. Okay? Be safe. And call your damn brother to let him know when you’re getting home. He stresses me out too.”

She went back in their bedroom, shutting the door with a bit more force than necessary.

I didn’t move. I stared at the closed door.

I had a weird feeling inside me, churning around.

It didn’t feel bad, or wrong. It just felt…different.

Cross chuckled, seeing the look on my face. “She cares.”

Yes. “I thought she hated me.”

“She’s caught in the middle.” His hand fell away from my back, and he went to the window. “Do you still want to do this tonight? Jordan and Z just got here.”

“How’d you know they arrived?”

“My phone buzzed in my pocket.” He smirked at me. “Took a gamble.”

I started to laugh, but winced at the movement. Someone got a decent wallop in there. It’d hurt worse in the morning, once the painkillers wore off, so I nodded. Now was the time.

“Yeah.” I went to my closet. I’d need dark clothes for this. “Better tonight while I’m a little loopy than tomorrow. Tomorrow’s not going to be fun.”

“Stay home.”

I paused as I shifted through my shirts and looked at him.

“Take a sick day.” He gestured to the doorway. “You heard Heather. She wants you to do that. Hell, she probably wants to dote on you. That’s what parents do. Makes them feel good about themselves.”

“Your parents do that?”

He hesitated. “They should—for Taz.”

I frowned at him.

Cross knew my relationship with Channing was messed up, and I knew there were problems at his house, but I hadn’t pushed for the details. Hearing him now, I wondered if I should.

“I’m sorry,” I told him.

Cross’ eyes met mine.

“For Taz, I mean. She’d enjoy that kind of treatment.”

His Adam’s apple shifted as he swallowed, and he cleared his throat. “Do you need help changing?”

“No. I’m stiff, but I’ll manage.”

I took my clothes into the bathroom and examined myself. I sucked in my breath. I was bruised everywhere. There were scrapes on my head, like someone had wrenched my hair back and left a mark. The bottom half of my chin was one giant bruise. It went from ear to ear. Then there was another at the corner of my eye. I felt over my ribs, just skimming. I had a bruise the size of a basketball on my side. There was a yellow lining around it.

No wonder Heather had wanted a cigarette. If she showed up looking like this, I would’ve been smoking too.

Nonetheless, I hadn’t lied. I was stiff, but I was still able to move around. Everything would be painful as fuck in the morning. I made up my mind. Whether Heather or Channing wanted to dote or not, I’d take a skip day tomorrow.

But first things first.

I dressed, pulling on black pants and a black long-sleeved shirt with a hood. Getting the clothes on was slightly painful, a fact the pills were helping. I would’ve been crying if they weren’t working, and I knew they were because I had to try three times to lace up my shoes. Finally, I gave in and slipped on an old pair that I didn’t need to tie.

Cross was waiting on the edge of the bed. He’d changed too. I didn’t ask where he’d gotten his clothes. He kept a drawer here.

“I’m ready.”

He stood, but his gaze skimmed over me, darkening before he took my hand and led the way. A vein popped out from his neck. Hearing laughter in the backyard, he turned to go out the front.

We weren’t really sneaking out, but it still felt that way.

As we hurried to Jordan’s truck, the passenger door opened. Letting go of my hand, Cross jumped lithely and soundlessly into the back. He settled into the corner as Zellman got out of the front. He paused once, looked me over, and gave me a slight nod.

He jumped in the back too, going to the opposite corner, behind where Jordan was at the wheel.

I got into the cab, having to hold my breath until I was settled.

Fuck. I hated being injured.

There was no music playing. Tonight, that felt right. It felt appropriate.

Jordan tapped a coffee drink in the console. “I got this for you, if you want it.”

It was his way of saying he was sorry. “Thank you.”

When he turned toward downtown Roussou, I glanced over.

“He’s not at Alex’s?” But as I asked, I knew that was true. Alex had told me himself.

“Called someone. He’s at a hotel. I got the room number.”

“His mom?”

“We’re in luck. Apparently, she likes her martinis—at the Fallen Crest Country Club.”

I laughed. “Why am I not surprised?”

“Our boy is alone, unless he’s got company of the female persuasion.” He winked at me as he turned the vehicle onto the main road. “That’d complicate things a bit, huh?”

I shot him a dark look. “Shut it.”

I did not want that to be the next thing, where they teased me about Race in a sexual or romantic way. Good grief.

Then I reconsidered. We still had a few blocks to go. We were alone. Cross and Z couldn’t interrupt, so throwing all caution to the wind, I braved it.

“Why do you keep insinuating he still wants in my pants? That should be over.”

Jordan was quiet. His hand tightened on the steering wheel, and he inclined his head toward me with his eyes still on the road. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah.”

His smirk grew. “You’re actually asking me this? Don’t you see it?”