Page 5 of Wrath

I wake up to the amber glow of later afternoon. My head’s throbbing so hard, I feel like I’m going to be sick, and there’s blood in my right eye. That’s because there’s a gash on my forehead.

Fuck.

I sit up slowly, feeling weak and weird and dizzy. The first thing I do is idle the boat back to the land arm, drop my anchor again. I hike slowly up to the trestle bridge, letting out a little moan because my head is hurting and I’m so damn scared of what I’ll find.

My hands tremble with relief to find there's nothing splattered on the trestle.

I walk back down to the boat, and that's when I remember hands on my back. Someone saying something to me in the water. So he must have jumped behind me. Reckless fucker.

I haul ass back to the marina, gritting my teeth at the stabbing headache caused by the boat’s bumping. Once I’m there, I pay a freshman from my school to rinse it down and dock it for me.

“Are you okay?” he asks me.

“Fine.”

In my car, I’ve got a spare set of clothes. I crawl into the backseat and slowly change. Then I pull a camo ball cap down over my aching forehead. I still feel dizzy and off-kilter by thetime I park in front of my house. Walking up to the porch, I feel like the ground is just a little tilted.

I take a deep breath, gripping my dead cell phone in one hand. I’ve got my keys in my other hand, positioned to unlock the door, when the thing opens.

My mom’s in the doorway, wearing her red apron and a strange, wide-eyed look.

"Josh, I’m glad you’re back,” she whisper-hisses. “Your stepbrother is here."

Two

Josh

Of all the things I thought I might come home to, this one wasn’t on the list.

“He’s here?”

"Yes." Her voice lowers. "He’s in the kitchen with Carl. Ezra, you remember."

I can't help a soft laugh, which hurts my head. "Yeah, Mom. I remember his name."

"His talks with Coach Nix went very well, and apparently they want him here a few weeks early. So he can start practice."

"Okay." I nod, gritting my molars as I try to keep my face from looking headachy.

"He's been quiet,” she murmurs. “Very polite. Having you here will break the ice." She smiles brightly, and her hand comes up to touch my ball cap. "One blond and one brunette."

"Is his hair blond?" Ezra didn't come down when my mom and Carl got married last year at a nice old house here in town. Carl doesn’t have a ton of pictures of the guy, and in most of them, Ezra is wearing a football helmet.

"Well, dark blond," she says. "You'll see."

She waves me into the foyer, and I set my keys atop the shelf to the right. I glance up the carpeted stairs. Empty. Then I blink around the family room to my left.

"C'mon." A wave of nausea hits me as Mom leads me past the cozy, tan suede couch and Carl’s burgundy armchair in the family room, and then on through the dining room. A swinging door adjoins the dining room and kitchen, and as soon as she pushes it open, I hear a male voice.

Something happens as I move through the doorway. I don't even know what. Like my neck and head are buzzing with heat. I step into the kitchen, and my mom looks back at me.

"I'm surprised you guys weren't out there today," she's saying to me over her shoulder. She shifts her weight, moving out of my line of sight, and my eyes lock onto him.

He's standing on the other side of the granite-topped island, holding one of the glasses my mom and Carl bought when they got married. And his lake water eyes are staring a hole in me.

OH MY MOTHERFUCK, IT’S BRIDGE GUY. The crazy, ungrateful fucker who threw me off the trestle bridge is right here in my fucking kitchen. I can’t speak or move as my brain struggles to connect things.

"Josh," my mother prompts.

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