Page 96 of This Blood That Binds Us
“He’s right. What were you thinking? Who does that?” Luke placed his hand on my back, guiding me to the shore.
“Wait, where’s Chelsea?” Zach said.
“It’s kinda a long story,” I started to say as Aaron barreled past us and out of the water.
The twins shared a look before following after him, not speaking a word.
Presley and I stood, dumbfounded for a second. The breeze filled the silence, and we watched as college students ran around in hoards. Their laughter and screams carried through the air.
“Uh oh, you’re bleeding.” Presley motioned to my hand that was still wrapped around my waist.
I released my grip, revealing the long gash oozing across my palm. It looked worse than it felt.
“I better go clean this up.”
“I’ll come with you!” Presley gave me a sheepish grin. “And you can explain to me this long story of what happened with Chelsea.”
I reluctantly agreed and told him the bare minimum of truth, skipping the part where Aaron’s eyes had turned black, who looked at me like he wanted to eat me. I was so close to telling him. The words were right on the edge of my tongue, yet I held back.
We had to tell Zach and Luke what was going on. Everything had gone too far. But Aaron was serious about them not knowing, and I didn’t know why. Would he try to stop me if I tried? I just needed to get Aaron alone and talk some sense into him. I was so close to getting him to open up.
Presley and I reached the restroom, and I went inside to clean my hand up. My shoes squeaked in the large puddles of water that wove their way between the tiny tiles. The sick smell of dirty toilet water motivated me to quicken my pace. I grabbed a few paper towels and walked to the sink to examine my hand. The cut wasn’t as deep as it looked. I held my hand under the cool water, searching for something to cover it with. My only option was my shirt. I pulled it over my head and held it in front of the hand dryer.
After ten minutes of awkward stares, I wrapped it around my hand and over my wrist. I left the bathroom with a sigh and kept my attention on the wet floor to keep from slipping.
“Guess you decided to take that shirt off after all.” Presley nudged my shoulder with a carefree smile.
Thankfully, my wet hair provided a good scar cover up.
I couldn’t fight the look on my face. I was drowning.
“What’s wrong?You know, other than the obvious bleeding hand you have there and getting slapped in the face.”
His frown didn’t suit him. If Aaron was the sun, Presley was the wind. Always moving. Free. The drooping corners of his lips tied him down in an unnatural way.
“There’s something wrong with Aaron . . .” I said.
“Yeah, I know he’s been on one lately.”
I stopped him. “No, you don’t get it. There’s something seriously wrong. I don’t know what to do, and I’m freaked out. Your brothers are going to freak out, and...and...”
Presley squinted his eyes, waiting. “And?”
“I don’t know what to do! Help me!”
“Okay, okay. Chill.” Presley steadied me. “I think you’re overexaggerating Zach and Luke’s reaction. Sure, you lied, but it’s not like they haven’t. I don’t get why you’re so scared for them to know. The sooner you rip off the Band-Aid, the better. For the record, I’m happy you know about us, and you don’t hate us. That’s pretty badass.”
I smiled at his sentiment but quickly overwhelmed myself again with thought. “I just need to talk to Aaron first.”
Presley leaned in and whispered, “The truth is, they’re actually big softies. Zach, especially. Underneath that hard outer shell is a man who used to write poetry to his high school sweetheart. The long, sappy kind.”
“Wait, Zach had a high school sweetheart? What happened?”
It didn’t shock me that he had a girlfriend. He was attractive and seemingly athletic, so, of course he did. But I was curious about the details.
“They ended up breaking up when she went off to college. I think she wanted to stay, but Zach basically told her he couldn’t be with her because of...you know.” He shook his head. “Anyway, Aaron will cool off eventually. He always does.”
“He’s been like this before?” I said.
