I’m a mess. My hair was never brushed after my shower yesterday, my face is puffy and swollen from crying and it’s free of makeup. My hoodie hangs past the bottom of my sleep shorts, and I’m wearing socks that reach the middle of my calves, but Thayer’s eyes roam my body, looking at me like he hasn’t seen me in months instead of two days.
“You need to go,” I say, folding my arms over my chest.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Not until you talk to me.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
“I disagree.” He takes a step toward me. “Last night—” His eyes drift over my shoulder, focusing on something behind me. His face contorts with anger, his entire demeanor shifting. “What the fuck is he doing here?”
“What am I doing here?” Grey asks, his tone challenging as he comes to stand in front of me. “I live here, motherfucker. What are you doing here?”
“Grey, go inside,” I say, coming around to stand in front of him, planting my hands against his chest to push him toward the door. He looks down at me, his eyes flashing with understanding.
“Is he the reason you’ve been crying all weekend?” He looks over my head at Thayer. “Did you fucking touch my sister?”
“You killed my brother. It’s only fair I fuck your sister.”
“Thayer!” I snap. What the hell is he thinking? Humiliation courses through me, my face getting hot. Grey takes advantage of my stunned state, charging past me, and judging by the look on Thayer’s face, that’s exactly what he was hoping for.
Grey throws a punch, but Thayer dips a shoulder, dodging the hit as he tackles Grey to the lawn. He raises his arm before slamming his fist into Grey’s face, the other hand gripping the collar of his shirt.
“Thayer, stop!” I run down the steps, then pull on Thayer’s arm, but he shakes me off easily.
“I didn’t fucking kill him,” Grey grunts.
Thayer lands another punch before Grey somehow gains the upper hand. They’re a pile of elbows and fists as they take turns getting their hits in until both of them are beaten bloody. If they don’t stop soon, someone’s going to be seriously hurt. I run back into the house, grabbing my phone off my bed, and call Holden.
“That was fast—”
“Holden, get over here fast. Grey’s here.” That’s all I need to say.
“Motherfucker. I’m coming.”
I drop the phone, running back outside.
“I heard you!” Thayer yells, sending another fist into the side of Grey’s face. Grey looks dazed, his eyes rolling for a second before he seems to come to. “I fucking heard it. You were with him when he died.”
What?
His elbow comes up like he’s going to hit him again, but I don’t think Grey can take another blow.
“Thayer!” My scream is desperate and guttural, surprising even myse
lf, and I finally break through to him. He looks at me over his shoulder, fist raised, chest heaving.
“Please stop. Please, please, please,” I cry. “He’s my brother.” My voice cracks on the last word, sounding weak.
Thayer releases his hold on Grey and staggers to his feet just as Holden’s Range Rover comes barreling down the drive. He jumps out, taking in the scene before him with murder written all over his face.
Thayer bends down to grip Grey’s shirt, pulling him to his feet. “Get in the fucking car.”
“Thayer, no.”
“I’m not going to hurt him.” My face must convey how little I believe him. “Anymore,” he tacks on belatedly. “This shit ends tonight.”