“Why don’t you go and get in the truck?” he explained, turning me to face him.
“But I feel safer with you,” I replied, clinging to his neck. He drew my hands down and pushed me gently in Harper’s direction.
“Harper needs you. Look after her. Please.”
I glanced towards Harper, who looked on the brink of a breakdown, even with Phoenix’s arm around her.
I went to stand by her, and we both watched the boys leave in the direction of the brewing trouble.
The St Andrew’s guyswerethere to cause shit as one started squirting people with the beer hose. They may have started it, but I was certain the Sawyer boys would finish it.
At least, I prayed they would.
TWENTY-ONE
HUDSON
The shit went down when most people were trying to leave—droves of them walking home or heading towards theircars.
When everything went to hell, I was usually standing in the middle of it, but not then. The action had moved over to the parking lot, and it appeared they were starting without us. There must have been a dozen guys and some girls, possibly all from St Andrew’s, still getting loaded.
Once Molly and Harper were almost at my truck, I channelled my focus on the drama unfolding in front of me.
I couldn’t see where Nash was at; maybe he’d left, although it would be unusual for him to walk away from brewing trouble. The dude was a brawler.
Car engines were running, and music was blaring out into the night, all playing different tracks. It was just a headfuck of discordant noise. The other sounds were of people talking, screeching, laughing, and generally being way too loud.
My entire body was wired, the fusebeggingto be lit. I’d only had a couple of beers, but I was still stoked after the game. It had never been my intention to get wasted, as I needed to be on my game for Molly. I was also driving and never indulged overly when getting behind the wheel. The fact that a drunk driver killed Molly’s mother had also been on my mind.
Nope. I had a good head on my shoulders. It was a shame you couldn’t say the same for the rest of my school. The whole area was screaming for police intervention. The place was a mess, with broken glass and litter strewn everywhere.
It was almost one in the morning, and my muscles were starting to ache. Flexing my shoulders, I scanned the area for Creed, wondering if he’d believed Micah about him not having his shit.
When I told my brothers that I had taken the drugs from his car, that wasn’t entirely true. Tommo had taken the drugs at my behest. My reasoning: to fuck with Xander Creed and make a point. If he wanted his stuff back, he had to agree to keep to his side of the city. A few joints here and there were fine, but class A shit didn’t belong anywhere near my school.
Had I considered the possible fallout when I had hatched my plan? No, I confess that I hadn’t. I’d seen Xander at the game, and his face hadn’t looked like it did tonight. That meant someone had gotten rough with him, and I was responsible for that. Did I feel guilty? Not really. You dabbled in that world, you got burned. But if anything happened to my brothers or the girls, I wouldneverforgive myself.
As my brothers and I threaded through the crowd, we got separated; Reed and Micah suddenly disappeared. Luckily, Phoenix still flanked me as I walked over to where Josh was still arguing with Michael Dexter, Cole Smith, and Adam Summers—three key players who fought dirty on the field. I’d headbutted Dexter last season. He was the linebacker who tripped me during a previous game at halftime. A piss poor attempt to get me off the field.
I should have just left with Molly. I didn’t, and things got silly. As we made our way aroundthe side of a parked Range Rover, I then spotted Nash, just as I thought. He was now right up in one of the St Andrew’s boys' faces.
“What’s going on?” I questioned, coming to stand beside my teammates.
It was all eyes on me. “This hasnothingto do with you, Gage. So, fuck off,” Dexter grunted. He was big, but not as big as Phoenix. All three St Andrew’s boys’ side-eyed my brother with varying expressions.
“How’s the nose?” I replied with a smirk.
“Kiss my ass,” he shot back.
“That’s not very nice,” Nix said from my side, crossing his arms over his chest.
Nash shoved Smith by the shoulder. “Shannon and Ellie had their phones stolen tonight,” he told me, his eyes glued on the other school's kicker.
“I told you that has nothing to do with us, dick,” Smith snapped back. “And get your fucking hands off of me.”
“I saw you with Ellie’s phone when you were fucking around taking pictures of your cock with it.”
The three St Andrew’s players glanced at each other and sniggered; immature pricks.
