Page 11 of Chaos at Westbrook High

“They’re gonna eat you alive,” he says. It’s more of a taunt than a warning this time. He’s already warned me more times than I can count. Now he’s just being a dick. “Don’t come crying to me when he breaks you just like he breaks every other girl who comes near him.”

Him. Not them. I tense, but I don’t bite.

“You think I can’t handle the Kingston brothers?”

“The Kingston brothers,” he echoes, scoffing a bitter laugh as he drops his head back against the arm of the couch. “What the fuck ever, man.”

I roll my eyes and open my mouth to say something, then snap it shut again, knowing it’s best not to rile him even more. God knows what he’ll do if I make him angrier than he already is.

Things have been like this between us for weeks, and it’s only getting worse. The day our aunt Valerie died, I called my brother, hysterical, and begged him to come get me. He decided it would be more fun to get high with his so-called friends and hook up with someone else’s girlfriend, almost getting himself killed in the process. Twice. After he was beaten a second time—inside a hospital room of all places—I brought him home to hide out here. He’s been spending almost all of his time on this couch, drowning himself in vodka and cocaine and whatever other drugs he can get his hands on. He wouldn’t even get off his ass to come to Valerie’s funeral. That hurt, and it hurt even more when he told me to shut the fuck up and let him sleep when I came home crying because he didn’t show.

Every time I try to talk to him or offer to listen while he talks to me, he looks at me like I’m stupid and tells me to leave him alone.

He sucks, but even after all his faults, he’s still my brother, and I still love him, which is the only reason I haven’t kicked him out on his sorry ass.

“She wouldn’t want this, Hailey,” he whispers, his last attempt to get me to change my mind. “I know I didn’t always respect her rules for you, but this is different. You’re about to throw yourself to the same wolves she’s been hiding you from for most of your life. She’d crawl out of her grave to stop you if she could see you now.”

I nod because I already know that, but it doesn’t change my decision. She’s not here anymore, and I have to do something to secure my future before it’s too late. I loved my aunt. She was my best friend. She was my mother. Every time I think about the fact that I’ll never see her again, it makes me want to curl up and scream. But I can’t stand the thought of living my life scared like she did. I’m so sick of being scared.

“I…” I clear my throat, struggling to get the words out. “I have to go.”

“Yeah,” he says. “I know.”

“Will you please eat something today?” I ask quietly while I grab my bag off the floor.

“Don’t count on it.”

I nod again and walk out the front door, locking it behind me. When I hear a smash inside the apartment a few seconds later—probably the empty vodka bottle—I close my eyes briefly and keep on walking.

Fifteen minutes later, I hop off the bus and pull my keys out, scanning the street while I jog toward my coffee shop. It’s probably too early for kidnappers to be lurking in the shadows, but I was taught from a young age to be aware of my surroundings, and I can’t help it. It's a basic instinct for me, as simple as breathing. The only time I feel like I’m not swimming in a sea full of potential predators is when I’m at home or inside this building, which is just one of the reasons why I love it so much.

Rushing to ensure I’m there for my delivery guy, I unlock the front door and push it open, my eyes slamming shut when two hands grab me from behind. He shouts as he squeezes my shoulders and shakes me, chuckling when I don’t react the way he’s expecting me to.

“Damn it, Hailey,” Wyatt says, his mouth near my ear. “Why are you so hard to sneak up on, huh?”

“I saw you waiting by your car.”

He moves around me, his hand still on my shoulder as he studies me. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” I lie. “Just tired.”

He nods and moves aside to let me step in first.

“You know I can open for you on school days if you’d just give me a key.”

This again. He’s offered three times since Valerie died, but my answer remains the same. “I like opening.”

“You’re a control freak,” he corrects me, smiling a little when he catches the annoyance on my face. “Valerie used to look at me exactly like that.”

My shoulders drop, and I smile back at him, locking the door behind us before I flick the lights on. “That’s because you used to piss her off, too.”

He laughs, and I throw his apron at him, pulling mine over my head and tying it at the back. I leave him to get to work at the front of the shop while I make my way to the back, doing my best to ignore that familiar ache in my chest while I double check everything’s in order.

I miss her being here. She loved this place just as much as I do.

The cake company we’ve been using for years shows up two minutes early, and I’m thankful for the distraction, forcing a grateful smile for the older guy who hops down from the driver’s side. He waves at me before he grabs my order from the back of the truck, insists he can carry everything by himself, and sets the boxes down on the empty counter next to me.

“There you go, Miss Lawson.”

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