Shit.
I shove my feet into a pair of kicks and throw on a long-sleeve shirt. The coastal air is getting chilly now that fall’s set in. I wonder how Ella’s doing. Is she warm enough? Is she sleeping well? Does she have food? Is she safe?
When I get to Mills’ house, it’s packed. The entire senior class looks like it’s getting lit inside. After fifteen minutes of searching for East, I give up and shoot another text to Wade, who’s also nowhere to be found.
Where is he?
Game room.
I bypass the living room, heading for the huge den that doubles as a billiards room. Wade is at the pool table, chatting with one of our teammates. He catches my eye when he sees me and nods to the left.
I follow his gaze. My brother is sprawled on the couch with a blonde in his lap. Her pale hair falls over her face like a curtain, so I can’t tell who it is, but I can see that her lips are glued to East’s. His hand is slowly tunneling underneath her skirt. She giggles, and I instantly freeze. I know that giggle.
She lifts her head and…yep, it’s Abby.
“East,” I boom from the doorway.
He looks over, blue eyes glazed, cheeks flushed. He’s drunk out of his mind. Awesome.
“Look, Abs, it’s my big bro,” he slurs.
“C’mon, time to go,” I order, reaching for him.
Abby stares at me with wide, guilty eyes, but I’m more concerned about East. Some demon is riding him hard if he’s decided to hook up with my ex.
“What’s the hurry? Abs and I are just getting started. Right, baby?”
Her cheeks turn pinker. “Reed,” she starts.
I ignore her. “Get up,” I snap at my brother. “We’re leaving.”
“Not going anywhere.”
“Yeah, you are.”
He doesn’t move. “Just ’cause you’re not getting any doesn’t mean my dick should go unused, right, Abs?”
Abby makes some small noise. Could be agreement. Could be denial. Hell if I care. I just want to get Easton home before he does something he’s going to regret.
“Your dick gets plenty of play.”
“Maybe I want more.” East grins. “And whatta you care? We both know I can do ’er better.”
Abby’s face is bright red now. “Easton,” she says tightly.
“What? You know I’m right.” His mocking gaze shifts toward her. “You’re wasting your time pining over him, babe. Did he ever tell you he loved you? No, right? That’s ’cause he didn’t.”
Abby makes a gasped, wounded sound. “Screw you, Easton. Screw both of you.” Then she rushes out of the den without a backward look.
Easton watches her go, then turns to me and starts to laugh. Cold and humorless. “Made another one run, huh, brother? Ella, Abby…”
“You’re the one who ran her off.” I shake my head at him. “Leave Abby alone. She’s not one of your toys, East.”
“What, she’s too good for a screw-up like me?”
Yes. “That’s not what I’m saying,” I lie.
“Bull-shit. You don’t want me to taint your pure, sweet Abby. Don’t want me to mess her up.” East moves forward, swaying on his feet. The wave of alcohol on his breath nearly knocks me over. “Goddamn hypocrite. You’re the bad apple. You’re the one who ruins chicks.” He comes even closer, until our faces are inches apart, and then he dips his mouth toward my ear and hisses, “You ruined Ella.”
I flinch.
Everyone’s eyes are on us. The Royals are in shambles, ladies and gentlemen. The twins have stopped talking to me. Seb must’ve said something to Sawyer and now they both look at me as if I’m a leper. East’s trying to screw his pain away. Gid’s angry at the world. And me? I’m just drowning.
“All right. I’m done here.” I sidestep him, struggling to keep myself under control. “You do what you want, buddy.”
“Damn right I will,” he slurs.
I catch Wade’s eye and jerk my head toward the door. He wastes no time meeting me there. “Make sure East gets home all right,” I mutter. “He can’t drive.”
Wade nods. “I’m on it. Go home. It’ll all be better in the morning.”
If Ella shows up, yes. If not? We’re screwed.
Feeling defeated, I drive home and try not to think about how my life has gone to hell. Ella’s gone. East’s a mess. Brooke’s back. I don’t know what to do with the anger. I can’t fight again. My ribs are too sore. But my hands are fine, so I duck downstairs to the weight room and take out my aggression on the punching bag.
I pretend the bag is me. I pummel it until my hands are bloody and there are red marks on my feet and up and down my legs.
It doesn’t do a damn bit of good.
Afterward, I wash off my sweat and blood in the shower, throw on a pair of sweats and climb upstairs. In the kitchen, I dig out an energy drink and am startled to realize the time. It’s past one a.m. I was down in the basement for almost an hour and a half.