Page 107 of I Blame the Rival

“You don’t have to be okay. It’s just me.”

My hands are trembling when I reach out to touch her. She’s shaking from head to toe, the grief wrecking her system almost as strong as the rage burning through mine.

“Come here.”

Lacey lets me pull her into my arms, her sobs burning a hole right through my chest. Her skin is swollen and puffy, her vibrant green eyes painfully bloodshot.

Swallowing the ache rising inside me, I wrap my arms around her.

“You’re allowed to break, Flower. I promise I will put you back together again.”

She cries for a long time but I don’t let go. I hold on to her, holding her together the way she has held me together thesepast few weeks. Every wrecked sob, every shudder has my rage creeping past the point of concern as I feel my flower fall apart in my arms.

“Name five things you can see.”

It takes her a while to suck in enough oxygen to respond.

“B-Black jeans. S-Steering wheel. R-Radio.”

Another sob breaks the list and I wait patiently for her to keep going.

“W-Window. Y-You.”

“Now countdown from one hundred. Go by tens.”

Lacey follows my instructions, and by the time she makes it to zero, her breathing is almost back to normal.

“That’s it, Flower. Just breathe.”

“H-How did you know that would work?”

Tucking her tight against my chest, I refuse to acknowledge the fury desperately trying to break through my skin.

“Because I’ve used that trick myself far too many times.”

Lacey falls silent against me, her heavy breathing filling the empty space of the car. I press my lips against her hair, gently brushing my fingers through it to untangle the knots. She buries her face into my neck, her shaky fingers digging into my shirt.

“He hurt me, Skylar.”

The rage surges to the surface and soon I’m digging a fingernail into my jeans to keep myself from exploding.

“Who hurt you?”

I swear to God, if Walsh or another lacrosse player cornered her again…

“Jerrell Thompson.” Lacey trembles against me, “My ex-boyfriend is here in Silverwood.”

I stop breathing.

“You saw him?”

“He bumped into us at the plant shop. Said he just transferred schools.” She breaks down into tears again, her fingers clutching my shirt like it’s a lifeline.

“H-He hurt me.”

Caressing her face with shaky hands, I gently trace her tear-stained cheek with my thumb. Devastated eyes stare back at me and that’s all it takes for me to finally understand what happened four years ago.

What pushed my brother to make the decisions he did.

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