Page 15 of Wherever You Are
I lift the black fabric, just enough to reveal the deep purple bruise that spiders up my ribcage. I’d love to say that it looks worse than it feels. But that’d be another lie. Instead of concentrating on my own fucked-up body, I watch Lo.
His cheekbones sharpen. And he looks visibly ill.
Pale.
He skims me quickly, trying to take it all in before I shut him out, and he peers around at my back. I haven’t looked there yet, but I’m betting faint bruises exist from where Davis’s shins connected with my spine.
“Get up.” I hear his voice in my head. Not just from this week. But from so many years. Colliding together. “You’re weak shit.”
“Let me check out your other side,” Lo whispers, tearing me from my own head.
My hands shake as I lift the other side of my hoodie.Fuck.I inhale, and I see another black-and-blue welt along my abdomen. But this one is fading.
“I’m the little brother,” I say, so soft that he tilts his head to hear. “They just pick on me. It’s what older brothers do.”
Stop it.
Stop defending them.
I can’t. I can’t. Why can’t I?
My limbs tremble. I’m shaking harder like an earthquake rumbles beneath me and I can’t stop it.
Lo stares at me, straight-on. His face all sharp lines. “Your ribs are fractured.”
A hot tear rolls down my cheek. “Yeah, I know.” I wipe harshly.Stop crying.
“It’s happened before?”
I shrug, muscles tensed. “Whenever I see them, they like to play rough, so whatever…”
“Which brother?” Fury flames his voice.
I lift my head.Don’t cry. Don’t fucking cry. My chin quakes. “All of them.”
My voice splinters.
Lo blinks something back, his eyes reddened, and so softly, so quietly, he tells me, “I’m not going to let them hurt you anymore.”
Fuck.
Those words just collide into me. I try to cover my shattering face. Palms to my eyes. I slide off the counter, attempting to stand, but my legs buckle underneath me.
Fuck.
My back slips down the cabinets until my ass hits the floor, and I bury my forehead into my bent knees.
I’m not going to let them hurt you anymore.
His first instinct is to protect me. No hesitation, no second thought that maybe I don’t deserve protection.
Maybe I am the sensitive little brother. Having Loren Hale know about my issues at home is this giant, scary thing. It’s why I’m trembling, and I can’t fucking stop. My ears ring.
Lo is seven years older than me. One year older than Davis, my eldest brother. And there are days…weeks, months that I wished I had Willow’s family instead of my own. But I can’t trade them in—that’s not how blood works, right?
And I’m just stuck here, wanting out.God, I want out.I sniff hard and wipe my nose with the sleeve of my hoodie.
Without lifting my head, I sense Lo kneeling beside me. “Does Willow know?” he asks.
