Page 17 of My Brother's Forbidden Friend

Ten minutes later, I’m in the interrogation room, but not with Fisher. He said that since his little sister’s boyfriend was involved, he had to recuse himself, so he left me with Mato. At least my hands are free of the cuffs now.

“Can I please get a shirt?”

Mato rocks back in his chair, notepad in front of him. “Yeah, I’ll get you one. But tell me why you attacked Derek.”

“If Fisher would’ve let me explain, I would’ve told him. Derek hit Chevelle.”

The two front legs of Mato’s chair hit the floor and he stares at me for a beat. “Seriously?”

I throw my hands in the air. “Do I go around town hitting people? No.”

“You can’t deny the bar fights you get into sometimes.”

“It’s been almost a decade, Mato.”

“Some reputations are hard to get rid of.” He stands and straightens his belt. “I’ll be back.”

I watch him through the window as he goes over to where Fisher’s standing in the hallway. I know the minute he tells him because Fisher glances in my direction. I shake my head in disappointment that he, of all people, didn’t let me explain. Fish and his damn temper.

He stomps down the hallway, opens the door of the room I’m in, and slams it shut. “Seriously?”

I hold up my hand. “Swear to God.”

“Well, fuck, this changes everything.” And then he’s gone again.

“Can I please call a lawyer?” I ask Mato, who’s standing in the doorway.

“He doesn’t need a fucking lawyer. Give me fifteen minutes and this will all be handled,” Fisher shouts from his office, slamming the door.

“A lot of slamming doors today, huh?”

Mato shrugs. “Fisher’s in today, so yeah. Tends to be quieter on his off days.”

I can only imagine. I love my best friend, but he’s got a temper. Mato forgets that I had a sidekick during a lot of those fights he mentioned, and it was none other than Sheriff Greene himself.

But I trust Fisher to get me out of this shitty situation. Then I remember my dad saying he was cutting me off. Probably already has my stuff from my apartment on the street by now. Fisher can’t get me out of that situation.

Doesn’t matter. Chevelle is worth it. No one will ever touch a hair on her head as long as I’m around.

6

“YOU WANT CAM TO LIVE WITH ME?”

Chevelle

News travels fast.

I’m getting out of the shower and deciding how I’m going to cover my black eye when Marla uses the key I gave her to enter the house with my dad.

“Chevelle!” my dad booms from downstairs.

I knew this would be a problem. I hid in the dim light of the wedding reception last night, and luckily, one of the makeup girls helped me cover the bruise enough for no one else to see it. I told her I took an elbow to the face by accident.

But I know that sound in my dad’s voice. It’s the same one he used when I broke curfew, or sneaked out, or he found boys in the basement. The “what the hell is going on” tone.

“I’m just out of the shower. Hold on.”

I hurry up and dress in shorts and a T-shirt. I purposely didn’t take any appointments for the boat today for fear that I’d be hungover. Turns out that’s a good thing, because looking out the window, I see it’s cloudy. Everyone would be looking at me as though I was crazy for wearing sunglasses.

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