Page 45 of The Way We Are

“Don’t leave with him!” I shout, projecting my voice in Savannah’s direction. “I can help you. You just need to let me.”

I fight to be released from Brax’s grip, but he remains holding tightly, showcasing a side of himself I’ve never seen before. He’s always been the goofball, willing to do anything if it means a fun time type of guy. I’ve never seen him this serious before.

“She’s made her decision, Ryan. You have to let her go,” Brax mutters in my ear, his voice as tormented as my fight.

“No,” I disagree, continuing to struggle. “She doesn’t want him. She doesn’t love him.”

My determination to follow Axel’s convertible backing out of the driveway like he’s outrunning a bullet is so strong, I drag Brax halfway down the gravel path, only stopping when my knees buckle beneath me and Axel’s taillights are nothing but a blur in the distance.

19

Ryan

“Keys.”

Not waiting for me to respond to his snarled demand, Brax plucks my keys out of my hand before heading for the driver’s side door of my truck.

“I’m more than capable of driving. I haven’t touched a drop of alcohol all night.” My reply is full of torment, as dark and sludgy as my heart.

“I know, me either,” Brax agrees, jerking his chin up. “But that’s all set to change.” He gestures his head to Chris, who produces an unopened bottled of scotch from under his shirt like he is Houdini performing a magic trick.

“Damn, you went for the expensive one,” Brax surmises, overemphasizing his first word. “How much do you think a bottle like that would set us back?”

Chris purses his lips before shrugging his shoulders. “Don’t figure it’ll be too much considering they leave them out in the open for anyone to take.”

Air hisses between my teeth. “You couldn’t get into Justine’s panties, so you raided her parents’ liquor cabinet instead,” I grumble under my breath, my mood still hostile. “No wonder we never get invited to parties.”

Brax bows a brow. “One, I was five seconds from getting in her panties before her brother ruined the fun. Two, this isn’t from her parents’ stash; this is from those college snobs who haven’t figured out a fifty-dollar bottle of scotch doesn’t taste any different than a regular bottle of scotch.” He curls his arm around my neck to clutch my throat in a death-hold. “And three, we get invited to plenty of parties; you’re the only killjoy who knocks back every invitation he gets.”

He messes up my hair before rushing to my driver’s side door, stealing my chance to retaliate. Pretending his comment didn’t dent my ego more than it already is, I slide inside my truck. Since Brax and Chris enter from opposing sides, I end up squished between them—riding like the bitch I am.

While Brax fires up my truck’s old engine, Chris cracks open the bottle of scotch he stole. Although I have no intentions of consuming stolen goods, the fury thickening my veins has me reaching for the bottle before Chris can even take a swig.

Forty minutes have passed since Savannah left with Axel. Forty minutes of calling her cellphone nonstop; forty minutes waiting for her to reply to one of the dozen text messages I sent her, and forty minutes of wishing I had hit Axel hard enough the only vehicle he’d be traveling in is an ambulance.

Forty minutes of silence added on to five years of hell has my mood circling a dark and extremely lonely pit.

Ignoring the burn scorching my throat, I guzzle down the amber liquid, praying it will numb my emotions long enough I can work through the haze blurring my mind. I’m not only lost as to what happened tonight; I’m pissed off.

Savannah is ignoring my calls. It isn’t just the fact she answered Justine’s calls within two rings backing up my assumptions; she returned Brax’s text in a decent timeframe as well. His text was nowhere near as polite as the many I sent, yet she replied to his message nearly instantaneously. How fucked is that? I defended her from a man who hit her, but answering my message isn’t high on her lists of priorities. That hurts—a lot.

“Whoa, easy there, big guy. I want you to forget a little, not drink yourself into a coffin,” Brax says, snatching the bottle away from my mouth.

He chugs down two large mouthfuls before handing the half empty bottle to Chris. I stop watching Chris swallow the burning liquid like it's water when Brax takes a right on Trent Avenue instead of our usual left.

“Where are we going?” I know him well enough to know he hasn’t forgotten his way. Brax has lived in Ravenshoe as long as me—there's just one difference. I want to leave this town for dust; he’s happy to stay.

Brax turns his chocolate brown eyes from the pitch-black night to me. “As far away from Coulton Road as possible.”

I shoot him a suspicious glare, announcing my confusion.

“If I were to drive you home, would you wait for us to leave before rushing to Savannah’s house? Or just dump us and run?”

My lips move, preparing to answer Brax’s question, but Chris beats me to the task. “He would dump us and run.”

I don’t deny their claims because lying has never been my forte. I have every intention of confronting Savannah, as meeting with her on her home turf may be the only way I can make her see sense. The Savannah I spent the past three weeks with was not the same Savannah who left in tears nearly an hour ago.

I know people can have a hold on you—Savannah has had one on me for years—but that shouldn’t include people like Axel. He doesn’t deserve to be Savannah’s savior any more than she deserves a man like him.

---