I blink as she meets my eyes.
Did my baby sister just come out to me?
“Oh. Are you sure that was it?”
“I think so.”
“She might just not have expected it. I know you’ve told me about her before… Anna, right?”
She gives me a rueful smile. “Annabelle, actually. Yeah. She’s so awesome, but I think she needs some space now. I’m gonna see if I can fix it. But I didn’t want to crowd her or make things worse.”
“Of course.”
“You don’t care that she’s a girl, do you? I knew you wouldn’t give a shit.”
“Couldn’t care less as long as you’re happy,” I say, pulling her into another hug. Her arms go around me, and I squeeze. “Do the others know?”
“No. I can’t be bothered with the whole ‘coming out’ shit. I’ll just bring a girl home one day, and everyone can deal with it.”
“I want to meet her first,” I say firmly, and she pulls back a little, looking up at me. “That way I can relentlessly pepper her with questions and insist that you should get married before the end of the year, like you do with my girlfriends.”
She pulls away, laughing as she dabs at her cheeks. They’re red, and my mom is going to comment on it.
“Anyone on the horizon for you?” she asks me.
“Absolutely not. No time for it. Come on, let’s go downstairs and bully Lola about her wedding colors. She picked a combination of rose gold and red.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“Nope, and I think she’s wearing a yellow gown or something. I wasn’t really listening.”
It’s nice to hear Carrie really laughing. “Oh my god, I know you’re kidding, but maybeIshould wear a yellow gown. That would clash with everything!”
As we head downstairs, I can hear my mother berating Erica about something. I slow my steps, protecting Carrie for as long as possible before the inevitable tirade begins.
It’s going to be a long night.
Chapter 17
Jax
“Scott? Scott!”
He doesn’t move, and for a terrifying second, I think he’s dead. Then he groans.
“Fuck. Shit! Scott, are you okay?”
“Stop yelling,” he mutters, but I can barely understand him; his lip is split in two places, and he’s mumbling, a horrible gurgling at the back of his throat.
“What happened?” I ask, helping as he tries to sit up.
I can’t see the extent of his injuries, and my heart is hammering so hard I can barely draw in a full breath. Somehow, I manage to get the key in the door one-handed and drag him inside.
After several missteps, a lot of cursing, and Scott calling me an asshole for stepping on his foot, I get him to the kitchen.
The stark overhead lighting makes the injuries look so much worse, and I’m close to tears as I rummage in the kitchen cabinets for the first aid kit.
Scott is huddled over on himself, barely making a sound when I come back, opening up the little box and pulling out some strips of linen cloth. I soak them under the faucet as hegroans again, and walk back over to him, gently pulling his head toward me.
