Page 55 of Brittle Heart

He strides over and places his hands on my shoulders, stooping down to my level. “You okay?”

I nod, biting my lip, my eyes welling up.

He came for me.

Clay wraps me in a quick hug before nudging me forward, saying to the cashier, “Remember, kid, always keep your eggs fresh.”

Outside, he guides me to a black Ford F-150 and holds open the passenger door for me. It’s quite the step up, so he grips my hips to help me climb in.

Once I’m settled, he shuts the door and jogs around to the driver’s side, sliding behind the wheel and firing up the engine. There’s silence for a beat until I break it.

“Thank you,” I murmur.

He glances at me. “Wanna fill me in on what happened?”

“I came home to find my sister and her new boyfriend doing the deed… in our room,” I say.

He chokes out a laugh. “‘Doing the deed?’ Are you fifty? And why didn’t you just hang out in the living room or something until they were done?”

“Our uncle’s home,” I say, leaving it at that.

His expression turns serious again. “Why is that a problem?”

“Because he’s drunk.” I shrug.

His next words are heavy with what seems like suppressed anger. “Does he hurt you, Carolina?”

“He’s unpredictable when he’s drunk, and I didn’t want to risk it,” I say, choosing to omit the part about him being drunk most of the time.

He nods but doesn’t look happy or convinced. “Makes sense. And you have no idea who might have been tailing you?”

“To be honest, I could’ve just imagined it all. It was just a gut feeling… maybe I got paranoid.” I shrug. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have called.”

“Always trust your gut,” he says before bursting into laughter again. “God, your sister is a handful!”

“I know.” I cringe. “But it’s partly my fault. I’m hardly ever home.”

“That’s bullshit. Sneaking out and messing around is typical teenage stuff. I did it. You probably did too,” Clay says.

I stay silent. I couldn’t afford to do teenage stuff while attending high school and juggling two jobs while caring for an eleven-year-old.

Clay swings a sharp right into a fast-food joint’s parking lot where Xander is standing.

I whip my head back to Clay, surprised. “You brought him?” I ask, shocked.

“Like I could sneak out for a booty call in the middle of the night without him tagging along.” He shrugs.

“This wasn’t a fucking booty call,” I say, just as Xander opens the passenger door.

“Shame,” Xander quips. “Scoot over.”

I slide over on the bench seat, closer to Clay, who wraps an arm around me and pulls me into his side. “Xander’s a big guy.” A teasing grin appears on his face. He eyes me before releasing his hold.

I’m just about to tell him to fuck off when Xander climbs in, needing all the space I just vacated. Now I’m sandwiched between two insanely hot guys, their bodies flush against mine.

It’s okay to have a crush on a gay couple, right?

At least I know from the start it won’t lead anywhere.

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