Page 39 of Three Little Words

Chapter Twelve

Bryn

I let myself sleep in. I woke with a little bit of a hangover, but nothing some caffeine and toast wouldn’t kick.

With breakfast in hand, I went to the living room. Normally, I would sit on the couch and draw for a while, warming up for the day.

But it looked like a gorgeous day outside.

I grabbed my art bag, putting it on my shoulder and crossing the room.

A little fresh air sounded perfect.

I opened the door, inhaling. Something sweet-smelling was in bloom, probably at the neighbors’ house.

I took a step outside.

And heard a groan.

The coffee mug slipped from my hands. Ceramic shattered on the cement. I whipped around, not sure whether to scream or not.

Bryan.

He sat against the house, his eyes half-closed.

Somebody had beat the hell out of my little brother.

I tossed my art bag back inside and put my breakfast down. “Bryan. What the fuck?”

He lifted his head. His one open eye was glassy, the other swollen shut. Blood had dried under his nose, all down his shirt.

“Bryn.”

He sounded like his mouth was full of cotton balls. I’d never imagined that somebody could slur my name, but Bryan was doing it.

I knelt down over him, hands held up. “What—what happened? What the hell?”

He shook his head. “Just…inside.”

“You need to go to the hospital!”

“Fuck no.”

My heart was pounding. Tears stung my eyes. The longer I looked at my brother, the more injuries I saw.

“Bryan, come on. What—I can’t even tell where you’re hurt.”

He lifted one hand, waving it at me. “I’m…fine. Fine.”

He still stank like alcohol.

I didn’t know what to do. I definitely couldn’t move him inside on my own, and he wasn’t going to get up on his own.

“Don’t move.” I turned away from him and rushed back inside, finding my phone on the table where I’d left it.

I called the only person I could think of.

“Hello?”

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