“If I tell you to run, you go...or I’ll make you go. Run and find someone perfect and sweet who hates violence. Have lots of babies and name one after me. Okay?”
He closed his eyes and turned away before he nodded.
“Life should have been kinder and made you my brother,” I said.
A sharp, rapid knock on the front door echoed through the small house and broke the moment. I quickly got off the bed.
“Might be one of the thugs,” I explained when Ethan gave me a questioning look.
He smiled, and with a shake of his head, he stood. I followed him into the living room. Ethan had already folded his blanket and picked up while he’d waited for me. I wondered how often he did that for his dad.
Through the diamond of smoke-stained glass that decorated the window of the front door, I saw the top of a dark mop of hair. A step behind that head, I caught a glimpse of blonde. They were definitely not the thugs.
Ethan reached for the knob without looking through the window. His trust humbled me at times.
As soon as the door opened, anxiety, fear, and desperation flooded the room. It all came from the girl with the dark mop of hair. Her emotions were so loud, she drowned out what the girl behind her might be feeling.
“Hi,” the dark mop of hair said, meeting Ethan’s gaze. “Is Isabelle—?” Her gaze shifted to me. Some of her desperation faded as joy lit her face.
We stared at each other a moment while I waited for her to say what she wanted. But she kept quiet, staring at me as if I were her long lost relative or something.
Then, suspicion crept in. First the letter, then the weird dog attack, now strangers showing up at Ethan’s and asking for me? No one knew I was here. I didn’t recognize her. How did she know my name?
“Who are you?” I asked.
Ethan shifted and started to close the door at my distrustful tone. The girl’s expression quickly changed to one of frustration as she placed a hand against the door to stop it.
“Look, shutting the door in my face won’t answer the questions you must have. How about letting us in so we can talk?”
Before I could tell the two girls to get lost, the blonde spoke up.
“My name’s Gabby. This is Bethi. We’ve been driving for a week just to find you—”
Find me? Panic jetted my adrenaline.
Knocking Ethan to the side, I grabbed the door and slammed it in their faces. I heard one of them cry out as I grabbed Ethan’s hand.
Run. Hide. The words echoed in my mind while my pulse jumped, and I felt a sliver of fear. I needed to get Ethan out of there. I pulled him with me to the kitchen, not ten feet away, and toward the back door.
“She’s running,” I heard a girl shout from the front.
Ethan kept up with me.
“Z, what is it?”
“It’s them,” I said, pulling the backdoor open only to stop abruptly.
A man stood outside and held up both hands in a pacifying manner. I wasn’t in the mood to be calmed.
“We just want to talk.”
“No.”
I dropped Ethan’s hand and breathed in, pulling the man’s urgency and caution away. With the next breath, I took his concern and lifted my fists. I struck out, hitting him in the face. His brows rose, but he didn’t move much. I didn’t stop. I clipped him again and, like a breeze, I ruffled his russet hair.
The two women rounded the building just then, followed by another man. He had thicker shoulders than the first guy. Worried that I wasn’t causing enough damage, I pulled from all of them. My skin started to itch.
“Stop!”
I didn’t turn to see which girl yelled. I focused instead on the man before me. The next blow snapped the russet-haired man’s head back. When he narrowed his eyes and came back around with a swing of his own, I stole his aggression and went for his ribs. He grunted in pain.
Humor burst from someone in the group. The unexpected emotion almost distracted me.
“Clay, don’t laugh. Help him,” one of the girls said.
Ethan moved to block whoever was coming to help. I knew he wouldn’t stand a chance.
“Ethan, run,” I said as I dodged a swing.
Anger and fear flared. I grabbed those emotions too, spun around, and hit the new guy in the face.
Someone cried out. The other man grabbed my arms, pinning me.
“Isabelle, enough,” Bethi said. “You’re only going to hurt yourself.”
“I don’t think so.” I pulled hard from the emotional soup they’d made. First, the girls fell to their knees. Worry drifted from their men. I pulled again, and the arms around me loosened. Then, the men went down.
I turned and yanked Ethan to his feet. Despite his last minute effort to block me, he looked faint. When I pulled hard, I couldn’t target.
“Sorry, Ethan.”
“S’okay.” He took a deep breath and managed a few stumbling steps.
The strangers were starting to move. I wanted to pull more and knock them out, but I couldn’t risk Ethan. The men struggled to their feet. Ignoring us, they went to the girls and started to help them up.