Hot 4 (Multiple Love)

"Hey Holden," she says, stepping closer as though she intends to hug him. My hands clench, and Natalie turns to me, mouthing Summer's name in question.

When I nod, she lets go of my hand and makes her way around my father. I don't know what she's playing at. I've shared my concerns about Summer with her, and there is no way I want her to put herself in danger. "Natalie." I rush around the sofa, but before I can get close, my dad grabs my hand. "Where are you going? I'm still talking to you."

Trying to shake his grip away doesn't work. He's strong, and he's serious about holding onto me like a wayward child about to run into the road.

"Dad. Let go!" I shout. Everything seems to slow. Kane's head turns, taking in two situations that need attention. Holden puts his hand out to keep Summer at a distance. I use my free hand to try and prize away my father's fingers, but it doesn't work. Summer takes hold of Holden's elbow. Harris's arm flies between Summer and his brother. Holden tries to remove Summer's hand from his arm, and her nails rake his skin. I watch in horror, still held tight by my father as blood trickles down Holden's arm. It's not a big wound, but the sight of scarlet kicks my brain into a panic. "GET OFF OF ME!" I scream into my father's face, and he flinches back just enough that I pull my hand free. Flying across the room, I make it between Holden and Summer, just as Harris is starting to drag her back. "Get her out," Kane yells.

"I'm calling the police. This has gone too far," I shout.

Summer's eyes meet mine as I hold the phone to my ear. A sensation like iced water runs down my spine. Cold hatred lurks behind Summer's strange smile, and everything in me feels like it's breaking.

There's too much against us. Too many people who think we're freaks. This can't work. When the operator asks me which service, I need, the word “police” leaves my lips, but it doesn't feel like me talking. I'm outside myself now. My body works on autopilot as Summer is pulled outside, and Karter returns with a wet cloth to clean up Holden's arm. Natalie is yelling at my father. All niceties are now pushed aside. I don't hear what he says in return as I robotically tell the police I need to report a crime.

I need to seek a restraining order.

When the police arrive, I tell them everything but register nothing. My dad has left, but I didn't see him go. Natalie is next to me, holding my hand, but I don't feel her warmth.

I want to cry, but crying would be accepting feelings into my fractured heart, and I'm not strong enough.

I thought I was, but I'm not.

And now I know I never will be.

27

"They've gone," Natalie says, stroking my knee. She must be talking about the police. I feel as though they were here for ages, taking up space in the den with their big bodies and bulky uniforms. Even though they were patient and kind—they know the boys well from attending emergencies together—I hated that I had to talk to them. I hated that our private lives are now a spectacle. Harris mumbles that he saw the neighbors outside, craning their necks to see what was going on. With all the shouting and the squad car, they must be fearing the worst.

The words “restraining order” were mentioned, and I'm glad that this will now be pursued. Summer is unhinged, and as much as I have sympathy for her obvious distress at not being with Holden anymore, she doesn't get to chase and terrorize him or any of us anymore.

I gaze around, the bubble of my own shock making me feel like I'm listening to everything from underwater. Kane's phone buzzes, and he swears under his breath, just as his brothers' phones start buzzing too. "There's an emergency. They're calling for backup. We have to go in," he says.

Emergency?

Kane approaches me, but Natalie waves him away. "Go. I'll take care of her. Be careful," she says. He hesitates but not for long. All I'm aware of is the banging of feet on the stairs, and the thud of the front door as the light leaves my life.

"Connie," Natalie pulls me into an awkward seated hug. "It's okay. It's all over. It's just us here. You're okay." Her hand soothing my back is what triggers my tears, the gentle, reassuring touch opening the flood gates.

"I can't do this," I say. "I can't do it."

"Do what, honey?"

"This. Any of it."

Natalie sighs, gently stroking my back rhythmically, the way I've seen her do for her babies when they're fussing. "Don't you get it? You've done it. You've done it all."