Slashed (Extreme Risk 3)

With that thought as my guiding beacon, I finally make it into the kitchen. I find some TYLENOL, swallow them with a cup of fiery hot coffee that burns all the way down, then grab an everything bagel—my favorite kind—out of the bag Luc left on the counter.

I eat it standing up at the counter, staring out Luc’s window and trying hard not to worry about everything. It doesn’t work. Another couple of texts come in and though I know they probably won’t be from Luc, I look at them anyway. And I was right. Definitely not from Luc, but not from my family either.

They’re from Josh.

had a great time last night.

hope we can do it again soon.

Weird that he’s texting me about it, since he’s always been more Z’s friend than mine—but maybe he’s texting all of us. Either way, I don’t want to be rude, so I text back,

absolutely! so much fun!

Then I shove my phone back in my pocket and forget all about him. I’ve got much bigger things to worry about than Josh Greene’s texting habits.

Once nine o’clock hits and I’m sure my parents will have already left for Sunday breakfast, I grab my backpack and head over to my dad’s house. Funny, I’ve only been gone two days and already it feels like that—like the house I grew up in is my dad’s house and not my home. I’m not sure what to make of that, so I shove the thought to the back of my head and concentrate on driving instead.

Except, when I pull onto my street, I can see a bunch of familiar-looking cars parked along the curb on either side of my house. My brothers’ cars.

What the hell? They never come here on Sunday mornings. They always meet at the restaurant. Always. So why are they here, now? It doesn’t make any sense.

Cursing under my breath, I steer my way between the cars, figuring I’ll just keep going. It’s inconvenient, but I can go shopping for a few more days’ worth of stuff. Eventually I’ll find a time when I can get in here alone.

Except it doesn’t quite work out the way I plan. Just as I’m passing the house, my brother Nicholas pulls up from the opposite direction. As soon as he sees my Jeep, he pulls his truck to a stop in the middle of the road, effectively blocking me from getting by.

I think about pulling into the driveway and turning around, but that just makes me look like a total bitch. Especially when Ty and Marcus choose that exact moment to walk out of the house toward Marcus’s truck. It’s obvious that they’ve spotted me, too.

Shit. I’m totally trapped.

Not sure what else to do, I back up until I get to some open curb that I can park along. Then I climb out of the car and pray the next half an hour won’t go as badly as I’m afraid it’s going to.

I get to the driveway just as Marcus and Ty are unloading a couple boxes of beer and wine. “Starting the drinking early today, are we?” I ask with raised eyebrows. “Not that I blame you. Can I get in on that action?”

Ty shoulder bumps me. “We’re watching the game after breakfast. Stick around and you’re welcome to as much of the action as you can handle.”

“That’s so not going to happen. I’m just here to get my stuff.”

“Your stuff?” Nick says as he comes up behind us. “You’re not actually planning on moving out, are you?”

“That’s exactly what I’m planning.”

My brothers make eye contact over my head, rolling their eyes at each other. “Don’t be such a girl,” Marcus advises as he pushes open the front door with his foot.

“Newsflash, you jerk. I am a girl.”

Ty sighs heavily. “Wouldn’t know it to look at you. I mean, except for the hair.” He yanks on one of my cu

rls, and then takes off before I can retaliate.

The others follow him into the kitchen, but I just stand there, wondering what I should do. I can hear pots and pans clanging and a bunch of people talking all at the same time. Judging by the cars outside, Nick and I were the last to arrive—which means all six of my brothers are in there right now. Along with my father and her.

Part of me wants to stick my head in, just to see how all my brothers are reacting to her. But judging from the laughter and upbeat chitchat going on, they all seem to be doing just fine. Even Zach, the traitor.

And I am so not in the mood to deal with all of that.

Deciding to hell with it, I take the stairs two at a time. My room is the last one on the left—closest to the bathroom because I’m a girl, my father used to say. It was the one perk that came with being female in this house—that and being the only one who didn’t have to share a room growing up. The boys used to complain about the fact that I had my own room, but the truth was, I would have traded with them in a heartbeat. It was always a little lonely being the only one who didn’t have a roommate. Add in the fact that my three best friends were also boys—boys who regularly had sleepovers at one another’s houses that I couldn’t attend because my father wasn’t that liberated—and for a while, being a girl had pretty much sucked. Especially considering the fact that I had no interest in Barbies or nail polish or any of the other things the girls at school had liked.

On the plus side, I’m used to being odd woman out, so the fact that I’m the only holdout with my mom doesn’t bother me.