Everett
The man who stood on the other side of Caleb seemed to have been pulled out of a nightmare. Lit up from behind by the streetlights off Wabash, the thick bridge of his nose and the skin flaking from his dry lips were simultaneously obscured by shadow and accentuated by it. The color of his hair and eyes were lost to the night, but between the orange glow from behind and the city-drowned starlight from overhead, Everett could tell for certain that both were a shade of brown. A black athletic sports jacket did its best to hide the shape of his body, but failed. It wasn’t that the man was too fat, but his frame was unforgiving—thick and barrel-shaped, his chest and gut filled out the front of the jacket, and the jeans he wore, while loose, did nothing to obscure his composition.
The man was built like an ox, but the rage that burned in his eyes was more befitting of a bull whose skin still sizzled from the stamp of a branding iron.
“Games?” Caleb asked. His voice was dry, a cadence Everett recognized well. It always sounded that way when he was seconds from blowing up. “We’re not playing games. All my friend and I are trying to do is get laid, okay? We’re not interested in—”
The man didn’t let Caleb finish—with an earsplitting bellow, he charged.
Everett, who, over the years, had stood at Caleb’s side through plenty of bar fights, leapt out of the way. He knew the drill. When shit went south, dodge, divide, confuse, and then overwhelm. As long as he got out of the way of the first wave of trouble, he had nothing to worry about—Caleb had his back, and he would always have Caleb’s.
What Everett hadn’t been counting on was trouble following him.
The man changed course at the last second and crashed into Everett at full speed, knocking them both to the ground. Try as he might to flip them over while they fell, Everett couldn’t get the upper hand, and the back of his skull smacked the pavement. Dazzlingly bright lights blinded him, and pain shot through his skull in a starburst pattern. Even if he’d wanted to howl with pain, he couldn’t have—the air had been knocked from his lungs upon impact, and his body rejected his attempts to fill them back up.
“Fuck you,” the man, who’d landed on top of him, snarled. He grabbed Everett by the hair, but it was only when he tugged it that Everett realized the back of his scalp felt warm and wet—sticky.
Nothing’s broken,Everett forced himself to believe even as his subconscious screamed otherwise.You didn’t just split your head open. It’s okay. You’re fine. Every other time you’ve fallen and hit your head, you felt the same way, and it never turned out to be blood, did it?
Everett’s train of thought was interrupted by two events, both of which happened at almost the same moment. The man on top of him slammed his head into the ground, sending a fresh, hellish wave of radiating agony through Everett’s skull, and Caleb made a sound that resonated bone-deep with fury and anguish that pierced the night and dismissed Everett’s frantic thoughts.
What happened next moved at such a breakneck speed that Everett barely saw it. Caleb dove at the man and knocked him off Everett, grappling him into submission not even a foot away. Grimy rainwater had puddled where they landed, splattering Everett and embellishing the sound of the man’s struggle. By the time Everett had pulled himself together enough to scramble back from where he’d been knocked down, Caleb and the man were both soaked.
Murder burned in Caleb’s eyes, and his usually playful expression had twisted with deep-seated rage that rainwater would never be able to wash away.
“Don’t youdarefucking touch him!” Caleb spat. He wrenched the man up by the front of his sports jacket with one hand and balled the other in a fist, slamming it into the man’s face with a sickeningcrack.“Don’t you fucking lay a hand on him! I willendyou!”
“Caleb! Fuck!” Everett half-crawled, half-sprinted to where Caleb was beating the ever-loving shit out of their attacker. He held back Caleb’s fist. “I’m okay. I’mokay.You’re too fucking good to end up in jail over something so stupid. Let him go. He’s done.”
“Hehurtyou,” Caleb snarled.
Everett glanced at the man Caleb had decided to turn into hamburger meat. Blood trickled from one nostril and pooled along the Cupid’s bow of his upper lip. His eyes were closed, but it was hard to tell if he’d already passed out, or if he was simply dazed. Either way, he wasn’t going to be an issue. They’d won. There was no need for Caleb to keep fighting.
“He—” Before Everett could reply, the man snapped out of his stupor and lashed back, swinging his fist savagely at Caleb’s head. The punch never connected. Caleb grabbed him by the arm and pinned it down, then wrenched his own arm away from Everett and secured the man’s other arm before he could come back for round two.
“You stupid fucking piece of shit!” The man’s voice was coarse, and it snapped and popped from the blood trickling down his throat. The surface tension of the dark pool on his upper lip broke, and it slid over his lip, then dripped into the corner of his mouth. “You think you’re better than me? You think that he’s going to change for you?”
“Shut the fuck up,” Caleb growled. He glanced at Everett, but didn’t let his guard down. “You know this guy?”
“No.”
“Then what thefuck—” Caleb began, but before he could complete the thought, the man roared and twisted violently to the side. Blood flew in droplets from his lips, joined by the rainwater kicked up by his escape attempt. Caleb hissed and twisted his arm back until his elbow was cocked at an unnatural angle. If the man tried to fight, he’d break it. “—is going on here?”
“Let me go and I’ll tell you,” the man said. His chest visibly rose and fell with every pained breath he took, and anger still flickered in his eyes, but it was either let him go or knock him out. Everett glanced at Caleb—it seemed he’d come to the same conclusion. After a moment’s pause, Caleb released the man and stood, then offered a hand to Everett. Everett clasped it, and Caleb pulled him to his feet.
The man pushed himself into a seated position with his elbow, then wiped his arm across his face, smearing his sports jacket with blood.
“We’re listening,” Caleb said. “And just so you know, if you try any of that bullshit again, it’s going to be lights out. I’m not fucking around.”
The man rolled the phlegm in his throat and spat it aside. “The pretty little twink you were leaving with tonight? Leave him the fuck alone.”
Their glittery conquest. Everett glanced over his shoulder, expecting him to be gone, only to find him face-down near the dumpster. One of his arms had bent to cushion his head, and the other stuck out away from his body. His white shirt was saturated with muddy water. It didn’t look like he was about to get up and walk this one off.
What had happened to him?
“Is he your boyfriend?” Caleb asked. Heart heavy, Everett turned his attention back to the threat at hand—he couldn’t go help when the man in the sports jacket was still around. There was no telling what he might do.
“No.”
