Starlee's Home (The Wayward Sons 3)

31

Starlee

Hours later, Charlie sits in the passenger seat, holding a trophy, a certificate, and an oversized check in his hands. The smile on his face is worth everything we went through today. Charlie needed a win—an actual win—and I’m glad I could show him my unconditional support. Sometimes that means more than anything else.

“How mad is your dad going to be?” I ask as we enter the town limits for Mammoth Lake.

“Hopefully he’s calmed down. If not?” He gazes out the window. “I’ll deal with it.”

The upcoming light turns yellow and I slow, easing to a stop. I don’t want to drop Charlie off. Today has been amazing. Just getting to spend time with him without sneaking around or prying eyes. He squeezes my hand and is face is red from the glow of the stoplight.

“I’m really proud of you,” I say.

He doesn’t reply, just leans over the center console of the car and runs his hand into my hair, pulling me forward for a kiss. The first one is soft but the second parts my lips, his tongue sweeping inside. There’s something different—confidence, I think. I touch his cheek and—

A horn blares behind us. The light’s green.

“Sorry!” I shout to no one in particular, knowing the person behind us can’t hear me. Charlie laughs and brings my hand to his mouth, kissing my palm.

“Turn here,” he says a moment later, and I veer into the driveway to the resort. It’s dark out and although there is lighting, it’s few and far between since we’re out in nature. It’s one of the things I’ve had to get used to out here. There’s so much space. “The road to our apartment is up here on the left.”

The car bounces on the rocky drive, slushy snow still along the edges. We’re just about at the turn when Charlie releases my hand and leans forward.

“What?” I ask, immediately slowing. I’m hyper-worried about hitting a deer or another wild animal. I saw what happened to Tyler Wilkin’s truck after he smashed into one a few weeks ago.

“Stop the car,” he says, hand already on the latch. I slow and peer out the window. Suddenly, I see something—no, someone hunched under the streetlight. Whoever it is is leaning against a utility pole. Charlie has jumped from the car before I’ve even come to a full stop. He races over and lifts the person’s head.

A chill of fear runs through me.

It’s George.

I hop out the car, leaving it running, and run to him. I see the blood from feet away. The cloth he’s holding to his head is drenched.

“What happened?” I ask, slipping in close. “George? Are you okay?”

Hot tears instantly freeze on my face. I touch his cheeks and he winces. I feel his hand curl into my jacket for support. “It looks worse than it is. Just get me out of here.”

Charlie curses under his breath. “Bastard. I’ll kill him.”

George’s teeth chatter from the cold. I tug at his brother. “Come on, let’s get him in the car.”

Charlie nods and throws his brother’s arm over his shoulder. I move to the other side and we help him get to the back seat. There’s so much blood and Charlie yanks off his jacket, covering his brother’s legs and then pulling off his sweatshirt and pressing it to his head. Satisfied, he gets back in the passenger seat, turning to face George.

“This is about me, isn’t it?”

George shakes his head. “He lost it. Not just about you, but me too. He shredded my portfolio. He found my applications.” I glance back in the rearview mirror and see him hold his brother’s eye. “He was drunk.”

“I’m going to the hospital,” I announce turning the car around. When I get to the entrance of the resort, I idle the car. “Someone tell me how to get there.”

“Star, no, it’s not that bad.”

“You’re bleeding everywhere.”

The brothers share a look. “We can’t get this into the system. Not yet. We need time to think about what to do.”

“You call the police. You call Mrs. Delange!” My heart is beating so fast from fear and frustration.

“They’ll move us again,” Charlie says.