Page 6 of Bought and Broken

“Unfortunately,” Dane answers with a sigh.

“How’d she get away with that one?” Devon is not allowed to be at parties. Her father doesn’t permit it and Dane makes sure she follows that rule. I, of course, help because it gives me immense joy to see her suffer.

“She covered for me with Dad. This was the payment.”

He sounds disappointed in himself, and I don’t bother asking what she covered for. I’m sure it was something to do with him missing work. Probably too drunk to show up.

Dane struggles with wanting to be a nineteen-year-old kid and the adult his father wants him to be. Our dads are similar in that way, only Dane’s father actually loves him while mine blatantly hates me. Which is why I’m grateful he took off and left me to handle the company on my own—even if it was going under when he did.

I snap out of my thoughts when I hear laughter. My eyes flick in her direction again.

I hate her.

I grit my teeth, the plastic cup crunching in my hand. I bring it to my mouth and finish it before I spill it and make a scene. The bitterness of the gin only reflects how I feel inside.

“You good, bro?” Dane asks.

“Fine,” I respond, though my gaze won’t pull away from her. No matter how badly I need to look away, I can’t.

How dare she act so innocent? As if she did nothing wrong. How can she pretend so well? Why is it so easy for her?

I’m so caught up in my mix of anger and cupidity I hardly hear the splash of water—until it’s hitting me. I hiss at the cold droplets hitting my arm, face, and neck, and scowl at the idiots in the pool—who aren’t paying me any mind.

I tap Dane with the toe of my shoe to get his attention because he’s too busy laughing. “I’ll catch you later.”

He holds his beer up, focus staying on the girls swimming in the pool.

You’d think the guy never got laid the way he looks at them, but he gets more pussy than I do.

I’m nearly ten steps away when I hear a thump, a groan, then a crack.

I look over my shoulder and see Dane holding his hand above his brow, blood pouring down his face.

What the fuck…

People crowd around him, but even through all of them, it’s Devon I see, just beyond him, paler than a ghost.

Shit.

I shove through people to get to Dane, who is lying on his back, still alert.

“It was an accident, I swear!” someone yells.

“Just go get some towels!” I shout, kneeling beside Dane to get a look at his head. It’s a decent sized gash, the amount of blood pouring from it making it seem worse than it is. Glancing up, I sneak a look at Devon, who’s about to drop. She hates blood. I know this when not many others do. Meaning, I should help her. I want to. At least, part of me does. My instincts tell me to go to her. She’s terrified. Not only of the blood, but that it’s coming from her brother. I can soothe her. But she doesn’t deserve my help. Not after what she did to me. So, I pull my gaze away and focus back on Dane.

“You good?” I ask.

“This better not leave a scar,” he groans, shaking his head.

“Hey, I got this. I’m an EMT!”

A girl I don’t recognize kneels across from me, on the other side of Dane. I help her drag him away from the pool, so his feet are out of the water. Someone cut the music, and it’s so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

I watch as the girl cleans around Dane’s wound to get a better look. Dane is smiling even though his face is covered in blood. I’m sure he’ll be fine. A couple stitches and he’ll be good as new. The girl talks to Dane, asking him questions to make sure he doesn’t have a concussion, I guess. I suddenly remember someone shouting that it was an accident, so I scan the area for the asshole responsible for this.

I don’t find anyone who looks guilty, but I do see a broken beer bottle not too far from Dane. I bet that’s the culprit.

“Someone better clean that shit up before someone else gets hurt!” I shout, gesturing to the chunks of brown glass. A few people move to it and pick up the pieces. When they scatter to toss them in the trash, I have a straight-line view to Devon. Her face is flushed, she’s sweating, and hyperventilating.

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