Our steps are quick over the damp concrete, Cross’s sharp breaths cutting through the stomping. Tyler pushes on a cracked door, the cool night air swallowing us whole as we step into the packed makeshift parking lot.
“Fuck,” Cross swears as he wraps his free hand around his bare torso. His ribs, sunken with short gasps, are honed to the point that I can see every last muscle flexing with pain. “Tyler, come help me.”
His best friend obliges. Tyler’s arm wraps around Cross’s lower back, and Cross uses him like a crutch. I tug on my hand, but it goes absolutely nowhere because Cross’s fingers clamp tightly against mine, like he refuses to let me go.
“As soon as we’re in the car,” Tyler groans, holding most of Cross’s weight, “you’re fucking explaining yourself.”
A curt nod is the only response Cross gives.
Silence fills the kitchen.
Tyler pinches the bridge of his nose, his head hung low as he digests the truth from Cross.
I’m a silent participant, too swept up in my own thoughts to utter a single noise.
I press the cool rag against Cross’s knuckles, bruised and red from hitting Nicholas.
“I can’t believe you agreed to throw the fight in the first place,” Tyler says, breaking the stark quiet. “And then to let him get in your head, so you knocked him out? Then to do it all over again tonight? This doesn’t sound like you at all.”
Cross inhales, his abs tightening.
I stop pressing the towel onto his knuckles, my fingers pausing from the weight of Tyler’s words.
“It’s because of me,” I whisper. “Isn’t it?”
“What?” Tyler asks.
“No,” Cross rushes out. “It’s because of him. Not you.”
“But–”
He grips my chin with tender force and angles my face toward his. “No.”
I sink my teeth into my bottom lip to hide my emotions, and thankfully, Tyler interrupts the moment by putting two and two together.
“Clearly Nicholas did something to Scarlett," he mumbles, talking to himself more than us. “And I don’t even want to know what, because then it’ll give me a reason to justify your behavior, and fuck…” Tyler paces behind me, Cross following his quick steps with his eyes. “Someone has to think rationally in this situation.”
“Stanley will take care of it.” Cross throws his head back.
His shoulders tense as I dab alcohol onto one of the scrapes against his stomach. He hisses under his breath, and I wince. I know it has to sting.
Tyler stops walking. His fast steps halt. “And if he doesn’t?”
Cross slowly levels his chin and stares over my head at his best friend.
Heavy silence cuts through our quiet kitchen again, each of us tense with the unknown.
After a few long seconds, Tyler curses from behind me before swiping the keys off the table.
“I’m going to the gas station to get you bags of ice.”
Cross slowly sits up a little taller and shouts after Tyler. “You know the house code?”
“I’ve got it,” he says over his shoulder. “Scarlett, don’t let him go upstairs without me. He’s too fucked up to climb the steps.”
“Okay,” I say quietly before going back and tending to Cross’s injuries.
[ 29 ]
