“You don’t understand,” he muttered, tilting his head like he was trying to reason with himself as much as with me. He dragged in a breath, but the tremor in his voice betrayed him. It wasn’t working.
“No,” I said, firmer now. “I think I do. It was weird. I’m not saying it wasn’t. And I get why you took it as disrespect—”
“Disrespect?” Austin scoffed, the word sharp and bitter. He turned away from me, hands flying to his head. “No, Yellow. It’s not about disrespect.” His voice rose, bordering on a shout. Icould almost taste the fury in the air as it thickened around us. “That motherfucker—”
He crossed the room in a few quick steps and kicked the chair hard enough that it slammed into the wall. My stomach dropped. I didn’t understand what was happening—not fully. Not yet.
“You know Seren was raped, right?” Austin said suddenly. The words landed like a blow. They were raw and fractured, so heavy with emotion that they cut straight through me.
“Yes,” I whispered, watching him closely. He was pacing now, restless and shaking, like his body couldn’t contain what was tearing through him.
“The guy who did that to her…” He stopped, sucking in a breath like it hurt to take. “He used to look at her like that.” His voice broke. “I know that fucking look, Blair. I’ve seen it before.”
My chest caved in. For Seren, of course. For what she’d survived. But also for Austin—because I could see how deeply this had lodged itself inside him. How it hadn’t dulled with time. How it still lived in him, sharp and immediate.
“Austin,” I said softly. All the anger drained from my voice as I stepped toward him and took his hand. He looked wrecked. Completely undone. “I’m so sorry,” I said.
He held my gaze for only a second before pulling me into him, his arms wrapping tight around my shoulders. “I can’t,” he whispered, his chin resting against the top of my head. “I can’t let anything like that happen to you.”
“It won’t,” I said gently, steadying him. “It won’t, Austin.” After a moment, I pulled back just enough to look at him. His pain still radiated off him in waves, and my mouth turned downinstinctively. “Austin,” I said carefully. “I’m not Seren. And Killian isn’t the man who hurt her. Okay?”
“I know,” he nodded quickly. “I know, Yellow. Fuck—I know. I just…” He swallowed hard. “I couldn’t stop it.”
I ran my hands along his, slow and grounding, hoping to ease some of what he was carrying. “Let’s get Levi and Cherry,” I suggested quietly. “Let’s just go. Okay?”
“Yeah,” he said after a beat. “Okay.” He looked at me, guilt softening his features. “I’m sorry. I really am. I try to keep my temper in check around you. I didn’t mean to—”
“Let’s let it go,” I said, offering him a small, reassuring smile.
Austin wrapped his arm around my shoulders again as he unlocked the door and pushed it open. I followed him back toward the kitchen, but my thoughts lagged behind my body, tangled up in everything he’d said in that room. His words clung to me as we moved through the house, especially the way his voice had fractured when he talked about Seren. I couldn’t blame him for being protective. Not anymore. Knowing what Seren had survived settled into me in a way that felt heavy and sobering. I kept thinking about how freely she’d been smiling earlier, how easily she laughed, and I couldn’t stop wondering how someone even breathes again after something like that. How she managed to stand upright in the world at all.
“Yo, Portwood.” The drunken voice cut straight through my thoughts. A guy I didn’t recognize staggered into our path. He didn’t look at me once. His eyes stayed locked on Austin, who stiffened beside me immediately, his body going tight in a way that felt instinctive and dangerous.
“You got anything with you?” the guy asked. Austin shook his head quickly. Too quickly. I felt my eyebrow lift as mygaze flicked between them. “You got any percs, man?” the guy slurred. “Nah? What about oxys? You charge a pretty penny for those, but fuck, are they worth it.”
The realization hit so fast it knocked the air from my lungs. I knew those words. Of course I did. I knew them like they were etched into my skin. It felt like ice water had been dumped over me, soaking straight through to the bone. Every inch of my body went cold at once. No. No, no, no. Not Austin. Not him.
“I’m with my girl, man,” Austin muttered. He looked at me then, and the fear in his eyes told me everything.
“You deal opioids?” The words fell out of my mouth flat and robotic, like someone else had spoken for me. I could feel my face fall the moment they landed.
“Yellow.” The way Austin said my name was slow and careful, and it answered the question before he ever opened his mouth.
“This guy?” the drunk leaned toward me, laughing. “You didn’t know this guy sells dope?” He shook his head like he was entertained. “This guy’s sold enough pills to put this whole fucking party to sleep.”
I couldn’t separate the emotions crashing through me. Shock, fear, rage, grief. They all sliced at once, sharp and relentless. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak. I could barely breathe. I stared at Austin, silently begging him to tell me this wasn’t true. To tell me the guy was lying. To tell me he’d never done that. That he would never do that. Not to me. But he didn’t. He didn’t say anything at all. I don’t know how long we stood there. Seconds. Minutes. A lifetime. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was the look on Austin’s face. He was pleading. For forgiveness. For understanding. For something I didn’t have. My feet movedbefore my mind caught up. One step back. Then another. Away from him.
“Blair,” he said quietly.
It didn’t matter. I was already gone. I shook my head and turned away, my body moving on instinct alone. I walked without direction, my mind empty and racing at the same time. Loud and silent. Full and hollow. I looked for Cherry before realizing I couldn’t go to her. She was too drunk. She couldn’t help me. She couldn’t save me from this. I turned suddenly, aware of Austin calling my name behind me, and then my hand closed around a bottle sitting unattended on a table.
I knew it wasn’t my mind. Not when I twisted the lid open. Not when I shoved through the front door. Not when I lifted the bottle to my mouth and gagged on the sharp burn as it tore down my throat. I knew it wasn’t my mind when I kept drinking as I walked down the driveway, along the sidewalk, down a street I didn’t recognize. My mind would never tell me to do this. My mind would never tell me to drink alone. My mind would never tell me this was medicine. So whose voice was it?
I was alone now. Austin wasn’t following me. I knew that because the street was empty. A playground appeared to my right, and my brain barely paused before I turned toward it. The swing creaked beneath me as I sat down, my feet lifting off the ground. I drank again, my fingers already warming, my thoughts blurring. I didn’t want to think. Footsteps crunched behind me. My head snapped around, my body ready to run. I was sure it would be Austin. Sure he’d followed me. Sure he’d say the words I couldn’t hear.
But it wasn’t him. It was just Killian.
14
