Page 40 of Escaping Our Reality

“Oh, shit! You’re banging the missing girl’s sister. So, that’s why I haven’t seen you around lately. She does know that you and Carrie,” Trash looks into my eyes and makes an obscene gesture with his hands, “nearly fuc—”

Ry interrupts him. “She knows.”

Trash is making my blood boil. My blood pressure is rising like I’m cooking my body in a damn pressure cooker. I’m almost on the verge of whistling.

“So, y’all have been seeing each other since the night of my party?” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a cigarette, quickly lighting it. Each drag makes his hollow cheeks sink in even farther. “Just call me Cupid.”

I wanna call him many things. And none of those names have anything to do with a flying, chubby baby.

“Did you need something, Trash? We were just heading out.” There’s a bite in Ry’s voice. I heard that same bite the night he pulled me out of the trailer and warned me about Trey.

“I see that. And she’s letting you drive that expensive car? I guess you really are a good piece of ass, huh, Crutch.” Again, he doubles over, laughing at his crude joke.

“Don’t you have some blackberry tea to sell, Trash?” I lace my voice with as much sarcasm as I can muster. “I heard there was a four-car accident on the highway last night. Maybe some new customers will head your way in a couple of months after they get hooked on pain pills. Do you give them a discount if they can show a surgery scar?”

Ry’s head snaps around and he firmly but gently grabs my elbow, pulling me against him. He hisses my name between his teeth like a snake. “Lulu. Go get in the car. Now.”

I straighten my shoulders and point my chin in the air. “I’m fine right where I am.”

Trash narrows his eyes. “I knew you had spunk, Ella, but you keep surprising me every time we see each other. You know, Trey likes feisty women. Says they make good pushers.”

Ry’s built like a brick wall. That’s the only reason I’m not attacking Trash’s face like a wild alley cat. Besides, I know it’s a moot point to even try. At some point, Ry’s fingers meandered their way to my back side, and his fingertips are holding onto the belt loop of my jeans. Even if I tried to spring forward, I wouldn’t get very far. And I’d probably look like a moron in the process.

Ry clears his throat, drawing attention back to himself. “Trash, you’re coming off a high. You need to turn around and leave before you say something that you’re gonna regret. Something that’s really gonna piss me off.”

“But I’m your brother.”

“And that’s the only reason you’re not lying flat on your ass right now.”

Trash spits on the ground. Stomping on his cigarette, he walks away. He’s halfway to the door of the gas station when he turns around and hollers back at his brother. “Was I right? Do her legs look as great as I imagined? What about when they’re wrapped around you, Crutch?”

Uh-oh…

Ry takes off like a bat out of hell with me trailing after him. It’s fine for me to beat the crap out of Trash, but I don’t want Ry to do it. What if Ry gets in trouble? In trouble because of me?

Fortunately, a minivan comes to the rescue.

By now, Trash is standing at the door to the gas station when the minivan at Pump 1 opens its doors and two young kids jump out. They race around one another, playing a quick game of tag and talking about what kind of candy they want to buy inside. Ry immediately stops his pursuit. Trash knows he won’t do anything now. Smirking, he opens the door and slips inside.

Ry’s shaking in anger, clenching his fists. The motion flexes the tendons in his arms. Laying my forehead between his shoulder blades, I slowly trace my fingers across his back, trying to scratch the tension from his muscles. Eventually, he sighs. Turning around, he wraps me in a hug.

Ry always hugs me before I leave him. Adding him to the small list of people who hug me was epic. It’s almost better than kissing him.Almost.

I love the way his large frame covers my body, wrapping around me like a blanket. Plus, hereallyhugs. Firm and hard.Not just loose arms and lazy body. He always squeezes me, making me rise to my tiptoes.

“I’m sorry about that. It happens with Ritalin for some reason. When he’s coming off a Ritalin high, he’s a different person. Mean.”

I don’t say it’s okay. Because it’s not. Nothing about Trash is okay. Apparently, nothing about Carrie was okay, either.

“Come on. Harlan said he didn’t need anything from town, but let’s get him something anyway. Cheer him up since he can’t see his grandson today. Chocolate cake is his favorite, right?”

Chapter 18

CRUTCH

So, being rich is one thing.

But havingthismuch money? That’s a completely different thing.

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