Take Me On

I’m stained and ruined. I hit my brother in anger and sent him to the floor. An ache develops in my chest, near my heart, and breathing becomes difficult. Why can’t I get these wraps off? “Get them off!”


But when John nears me, I step back and shake my head to the point he trembles in my vision. I need the material off, I need to get away and not fight ever again. I’m evil when I fight and if John touches me, I’ll hurt him, too.

“Let me do it.”

I suck in a breath when West dips under the ropes. Oh, my God, he’s seeing this. He’s seeing me. The real me. The poseur. The fraud. The patheticness. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

West moves toward me with the slow, confident swagger that only he possesses. “Only way you could do that is to tell me to stay away. You know kick-ass girls turn me on.”

As if there was a breeze, the haze clears just enough to create a small focused thought. “I want my wraps off.” I lift my palm to reveal how I’ve murdered the set on my left hand.

Like a thief, West slips into my personal space. “I can see that. Do you mind if I give it a crack? I’m quite talented when it comes to taking clothes off of pretty girls.”

I’d normally laugh because that statement is so West, but I don’t. Instead, I extend my arm. West cradles my hand in both of his and slides his thumb against the exposed skin. “I’ll do this slow and then we’ll get out of here. Just you and me. What do you think?”

Something wet threatens the corner of my eye. Sweat maybe? I’m not sure. “Okay.”

“Good.” He begins to untangle the material that’s knotted like necklaces shaken together in a jewelry box. “There’s too many people here for my liking. I prefer to kiss you in private.”

As if from a distance, someone shouts something about clearing out and I sort of recognize the voice as John’s.

“Kaden hit me behind the ear,” I say as if that will help him understand.

“I saw.” He meets my eyes and his hands pause. “Are you hurt?”

I’m broken. “No.”

Guilt rushes through me. My eyes dart until I spot Kaden, but I don’t have to look far. He’s beside me and Jax is next to him. How could I not have noticed? “Are you okay?”

He beats his chest twice. “Made of stone, remember? Plus it’s not the first time you’ve taken me down. How about you, Hays? You okay?”

No. “I’m sorry.” And I stop because my throat closes. I hold my breath when my eyes burn. I hit my brother. When Kaden’s glove connected to my head, my mind flashed to Matt and I hit my brother. I caused him pain—on purpose. I can’t fight. I shouldn’t fight. “I’m sorry.”

“She’s shaking,” says Jax.

Cold air caresses my fingers as West frees the wraps. “I’m getting her out of here.”

“Not to her uncle’s.” John walks up next to West. “Her blood sugar’s dropping. Get her something to eat and that’ll help with the shock. Kaden, Jax—meet Haley at the front door of the house at midnight. She doesn’t need her uncle’s crap tonight.”

West slides his jacket off and tosses it around my shoulders. He shouldn’t be nice to me. “I hit my brother.” In anger.

West brushes his fingers against my cheek and cups my face in his palms. “It’s okay.”

“John,” says Jax. “Maybe she should stay with us.”

“I want you,” I whisper to West.

“Then you’ll have me. Can you walk?”

I nod, but my legs don’t move. West bends over; then my feet are dangling and my body is cradled tightly to his. I rest my head on his shoulder because it’s too heavy to hold and plus...I like his warmth.

“It’s okay, Haley,” West says as he carries me past the bags for the door. “It’s okay.”





West

Fresh out of the shower and in a borrowed purple sweater and jeans from Rachel’s room, Haley twirls the fettuccine Alfredo I heated for her onto the fork and slides it into her mouth. Dad’s away on business, Mom’s staying the night at the hospital and my brothers are God knows where. Long story short—we’re completely alone.

Haley and I sit next to each other on the floor of my room and lean against the end of my bed. Some girl-movie Rachel’s watched a million times plays on the flat screen. I put it on for Haley, hoping it would make her smile and distract her. She watches it, and, while color has returned to her cheeks, her eyes are flat and dull.

“This is a lot better than deer meat,” she says.

It seems like years ago when the two of us shared a simple meal on the floor of the attic. “We have a guy who cooks a couple of times a week. Our fridge is always stocked.”

She creates an H in her nearly demolished bowl of noodles. “That must be nice.”

Until I was thrown out, I took it for granted. Along with a million other things. “Are we going to discuss what happened earlier?”

In midbite, Haley coughs, then forces down the swallow. “Do we have to?”

“Yeah.”

“I got hit and freaked out. I guess I’m rusty.”

“What did Matt do to you?”