Page 135 of Saving the Halfback

“Maybe we should wait for Eth,” Chase said.

The shop owner came walking out, trailed by another officer. They spoke briefly with Ethan before Ethan held his hands up and turned around. “What the hell?” Chase couldn’t hear me, though, since he was already getting out of the truck. I followed.

“Stay,” Ethan ordered us.

His cousin spotted us and held up his hand. “Wait there, guys. He’s not in trouble. We are just asking questions.”

I stopped and grabbed Chase’s arm, pulling him back, though he didn’t budge very far from his spot. Ethan turned back around once they finished searching his pockets, then started talking to them. I couldn’t hear a thing that was being said, but at the end, the owner put a hand on Ethan’s shoulder, apologizing to him.

Ethan had dark eyes—I loved his eyes—but when he turned away, they were near black. His teeth were clenched, his hands balled into fists, and he looked every bit the frightening, fighting thug everyone made him out to be at school.

“Eth.” Chase walked to him, but Ethan pushed away, walking from us and down to the sidewalk, toward his house. “Eth! What happened?” Chase demanded.

“Art, my father, robbed the place,” was all he said.

Chase and I ran up to him.

“Go!” he yelled. “Leave, I don’t have time—”

“Why’d he do it?” Chase interrupted him.

“Because I wasn’t there. He came to the shop, looking for money, and when I wasn’t there, he broke in, stole tools, cash, and whatever else he could take to pay for his next fix.” He rolled his shoulders, trying to release some tension but failing.

“They can’t think you had something to do with it,” I said.

“They don’t, but I lost my job. He couldn’t keep me on, since I’m a liability to him now.” Ethan stopped walking and looked back to where we left the truck, a couple blocks away now. “Go back, go home,” he ordered me. “I have to get the tools back, and I don’t want you there.”

I frowned. “I’m not leaving you.”

Ethan took hold of my wrist. “I can’t have you there,” he said, his voice harsh, his words stinging. He took a deep breath before shifting his hold, making it a bit gentler. “Bailey, I don’t know what is going on in my house, and I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“But you’re okay with you getting hurt.” I pulled my wrist from his grasp, something I would’ve never done to Ed. But Ethan wouldn’t punish me. “I’m staying with you. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Ethan let out a frustrated breath.

“Go back, Bailey,” Chase said, and my glare shifted to him. “Just stay in the truck. I’ll go with Ethan, and then we will come back.” When I didn’t immediately agree, he added, “There’s no way you’re going to that house.”

“The more time we spend waiting for you to leave, the more time my father has to hide shit. Just go.” Ethan pointed to the truck.

I planted my feet and crossed my arms. “I won’t go into the house. But I’m going to drive the truck down and wait outside for you guys.” Ethan opened his mouth, but I held my hand up. “No. I don’t care what you say. Either agree, or I’m coming with.”

“Fine,” he ground through clenched teeth.

I didn’t say anything more. I just headed back to the truck while they walked on to Ethan’s house. I hoped he would cool down more during the rest of the walk. I waited a couple minutes in the truck, watching the scene before me, so I could give Ethan and Chase time to get there. I knew they wouldn’t be happy if I got to the house before them.

I had just pulled up to the other side of the street when they walked up the steps. Chase stared at me briefly, giving me a look that told me to stay in the truck. I did stay put, but I had my phone out just in case, ready to call someone for help. Everything was so eerily quiet that, after a couple of minutes, I got out of the truck and stood on the street, leaning against the driver's door.

From here, I could hear the shouting. I dialed the first number that came to mind, and when my dad picked up, I was out of breath. “Dad, I think Ethan needs help.”

“Bailey, what’s going on?”

I walked across the street, listening to the yelling. I explained to my dad what happened at the shop. “They told me to stay outside, but there’s yelling in the house.”

“Sit back in the truck, Boo, I’m coming.”

There was a smash, like a heavy object being thrown. People started running out of the house, adults I didn’t even recognize. Three men and two women, who didn’t even see me standing on the sidewalk, all too busy scrambling and running in differentdirections. There was another smash, and I shoved my phone into my pocket, running into the house.

The trailer stank, smoke clouding the air. Ethan grabbed the edge of the couch, flipping it over. “Where is it?” Ethan bellowed.

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