“You don’t have problems, Ella. Not the way you think you do. You’re fine the way you are.”
The compliment sends a warm rush to my belly. Sweet, nice Reed is more potent and dangerous than asshole Reed. I can’t deal with this right now. I’m tired and my defenses are low.
“Don’t be nice to me. That’s not who you are.”
To my surprise, Reed laughs. It’s not a hearty one and it’s tinged with a shade of bitterness, but it’s still a laugh. “I don’t know who I am anymore. I think I’m lost. I think my brothers are lost, too.”
My heart flips. Oh no. Vulnerable Reed is even more dangerous. I scramble for a subject change. “Is that what’s wrong with Easton?”
“If I knew what’s up with East, I wouldn’t be going with you in the middle of the night to haul him out of whatever trouble he’s in. So if you have some ideas on how to fix him, please, I’m all ears.”
“We’re not rescuing Easton right now,” I admit. “And if you want ideas about how to help him, ask someone else. I don’t have the first clue what’s going on with him.” All I know is that Easton told me once he has addiction issues. He misses his mother desperately, loves his brothers, and is sickened by what he saw in the bathroom tonight.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask Reed about it. If he knows. But as with so many other things that go on in that household, I feel the less I know, the better.
“I don’t think he likes to be left out,” I offer reluctantly. “There’s the twins and there’s you and Gideon. Maybe he feels like he doesn’t belong.”
I know that feeling, and it might explain why Easton was so upset at seeing Gideon and Dinah together. Why he’s hooking up with Abby and Savannah. Why he’s drinking and smoking himself senseless. Maybe he’s trying to get a closer sense of his brothers and doing it in his own special messed-up Easton way.
Reed grunts. “I guess I’ve never thought of it that way.”
He taps his fingers on the steering wheel and then abruptly changes the subject. “You haven’t told my dad about your car yet.”
“How do you know I haven’t?”
“Because he’d be stomping around the house and making a thousand phone calls. And your ant-infested car wouldn’t be stashed in the garage where Dad can’t see it.”
“I’ve been calling around to find a place that will clean it up.”
“I’ll take care of it.”
Any response I might have is cut short by the scene we pull up to. Cars are peeling out of a parking lot, and we hear the faint wail of sirens in the distance. When Reed slows down, I jerk open the door and hop out. Hitting the ground running, I yell, “Val! Val! Where are you?”
A slender figure separates itself from a straggly bush lining the sidewalk and throws itself at me.
“Oh my God, I thought you’d never get here!” Val sobs in my ear.
I pull back to see a bruise forming beside her left eye and a red mark on her forehead. “What happened?” I exclaim.
“I’ll tell you in the car. Please let’s go.”
“Of course.” I wrap my arm around her, but when we start for the car, Val stumbles, nearly taking me with her.
Reed appears at my side and lifts Val into his arms. He nods toward the car. “Let’s go.”
This time I don’t hesitate to listen to him. The sirens are getting closer and there are people jostling us, running around, racing away.
Reed hurries to his Rover. While I hold open the car door, he slides Val into the backseat. I climb in after her as Reed jumps into the driver’s seat.
“Don’t take me home. Please, I can’t deal with Jordan tonight,” Val whimpers.
“Of course not. You can stay with me.”
Reed gives me a nod that he’s heard me, and he takes off, heading north toward home.
“Who did this to you, Val?” he demands. “I’m gonna kick his ass.”
Val leans her head back against the seat. She’s exhausted, emotionally and physically.
“You don’t have to talk about it.” I rub my hand down her bare arm. Her cute outfit—a crop top and embroidered shorts—looks intact. I don’t see any signs of injury other than the ones on her face.
“It’s fine.” She gives me a sad smile. “I ran into an ex of Tam’s. We got into a ridiculous fight, so if you’re going to kick anyone’s ass, it’ll be mine.”
She closes her eyes and silent tears rain down her face. I slide over and wrap one arm around her, holding her close for the rest of the drive.
When we get home, I help her up to the bedroom, and she collapses on my bed. I pull her shoes off, strip off her shorts and top, and grab a bottle of water from my fridge. She takes it with a grateful smile.
“Do you want Astor Football or this old Iron Man T-shirt?”
She looks pointedly at the football T-shirt but gestures to the other one. “Iron Man, please.”