Chase doesn’t back down, he speaks to my back over the top of Rusty, “Where’d you get it, Laiken?”
“That's none of your goddamn business,” I return over my shoulder, retreating to the deck.
And when I’m pulling out a chair, something shatters against the wall inside and Chase’s voice sends off an echo.
“For fucks sake, Laik, can’t you see I’m trying to protect you?”
I can’t help but laugh. “Protect me?” Then, I scoff. “Yeah, you’re doing a fucking great job at that.”
I don’t turn around to look at him.
I bypass the chair and walk to the railing, pressing my elbows to the wood, focusing my eyes on the water at the lake instead.
Rusty attempts to smooth over Chase’s waves.
Harlen tells Chase to leave me alone.
Chase tells him to shut the fuck up.
What a fucking mess.
I swallow, feeling my chest contract as I force down the burning feeling, pushing the back of my hand to my mouth when nausea spins through my stomach.
The intensity matches the same burning I felt in every corner three years ago when Chase told me he couldn’t stand looking at me, that he didn’t want to be around me.
I try my damndest not to let the memories engulf me, but when I swallow again, press my eyes closed, all I see is darkness.
This boy hurt me.
Why did he care what happened to me now?
My eyes are locked on Laiken.
Her bony shoulders are curled over, elbows pressed to the timber railing. Her back is to me. She arches her spine and even though her statement has faded, her words remain an echo in the back of my mind.
“Protect me?”
“Yeah, you’re doing a fucking great job at that.”
My throat constricts, my chest tightens.
Laiken Campbell knew how to take her teeth to me without even tearing away any flesh.
I take a step in her direction when Harlen wraps a hand around my elbow, stopping me. I try shoving him off, only for him to grip me harder.
“You’re gonna listen to me, you angry fuck…” He pulls me into the kitchen, my eyes still locked on Laiken. Harlen shakes my shoulders, an attempt to grab my attention, though I keep my gaze averted, only shifting it to Rusty as he clears his throat.
He’s standing beside us, behind the kitchen counter, hands splayed at the gray stone top, head slung between his shoulders, but his eyes are on Laiken.
He is chillingly quiet and a shiver zips down my spine.
“I have no idea where—” Harlen starts, panting.
Rusty interrupts though, talking under his breath, “It was probably her mother’s.”
My fists curl into themselves so tightly that I feel the bones throb.
I look at Rusty, then at Laiken, then back again.
