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Naturally, one person comes to mind. Abby definitely has the motivation because of her jealousy of Elodie. She doesn’t like that she lives with me, even though it’s because our parents are married. And she thinks I put too much of my energy into Elodie, even though it’s only negative energy. But just because she didn’t like Elodie, doesn’t mean she’d go as far as to slash her tires. Whoever did this used a sharp knife, and I can’t imagine Abby carrying one around with her to use at an opportune time. I don’t think it was her, but she’s not off the hook until I know for sure.
Once we get Elodie moved to my car and relay the message that it’s Elodie’s car that will be staying here, I get the girls home.
Pulling into the paved driveway, I move all the way to the front before hitting the garage door button to the four-stall garage. As of right now, myself, my dad, Wilder, and Celia park inside, but I wouldn't be surprised if Dad makes Wilder and I give up our spaces for the girls. Callan already got booted for Celia since he’s the youngest driver in the house.
Just thinking about how these women have rearranged our lives makes me want to break shit. I brush it off for now because I know it won’t last forever. This time next year, I’ll be graduating, and even if I don’t know where I’m going, I’m getting the hell outta here.
I pull into the garage and tell Brogan to head in through the door to the walkout basement after assuring her I’ve got Elodie. Brogan knows I don’t have a soft spot for her older sister, but after promising her I won’t drop her on her head, she walks around out back.
Not that I’m opposed to breaking a promise to Brogan.
I sit there for a few minutes, thinking about the events of the night. Wondering why the hell it irked me so much when I saw those guys gawking at Elodie the way they were. I’ve never been the jealous type when it comes to girls. Every girl I’ve fucked around with, I’ve passed along to my boys. There’s just something I can’t put my finger on that makes me feel insane when it comes to Elodie. I don’t want her, but I don’t want anyone else to have her either.
I shoot a quick text to Brady, putting him in charge of finding out what the fuck happened to Elodie’s tires.
Me: Someone slashed Elodie’s tires in front of your house. I need you to find out who it was.
His response is immediate because he knows the repercussions if he leaves me waiting.
Brady: Fucking A. I shut off the security system, but I’m on it. And don’t worry about the tires. I’ll take care of them first thing in the morning then have her car delivered to your house.
I don’t know exactly how it happened, but Brady has a soft spot for Elodie. He isn’t usually one to make friends, but I think Elodie standing up for him made him take notice. He’s not interested in women, though, so that helps keep my monster at bay while we figure this shit out.
Me: Let me know the minute you hear anything. And I need you to ask around and find out exactly how much Elodie had to drink tonight. She acts like she drank a whole pint of liquor and I’m certain she didn’t.
He texts back.
Brady: You got it.
I know I should thank him, but I’m actually the one doing Brady a favor, and he knows it. So anything he can do to help me out only digs himself out of the debt he’s accumulated on my behalf.
I’m pretty good at collecting secrets and using them to my advantage. It’s one of the many reasons the students at Willow Creek High worship me—because they have to. Along with a few adults, such as our high school history teacher, Mr. Boyd, who had porn magazines in his desk. And our pool guy who I caught stealing a pair of Celia’s wet bikini bottoms that were drying on the patio. Fucking sicko.
I find my power in the dark corners of other people’s lives. We all have skeletons, some just hide them from me better than others.
Elodie makes a few groaning sounds in the back and I use it as my cue to get her out. Throwing up in her car would have been one thing, but if she gets sick in mine, she’s cleaning that shit up tonight. I don’t care how fucked up she is.
I get out of the car and pull open the back door. Elodie is still passed the fuck out. When I reach for her, I notice she’s drenched in sweat. Running my fingers through her wet hair, I push it off her forehead, grateful to see that she’s breathing normally. Aside from her nostrils flaring, she makes the softest snoring sound. It’s kinda cute, actually.
I scoop her into my arms, cradling her like a baby, then I kick the car door closed. Opting to use the back doors, I make my way around the house and bring her into the basement. Broganmust’ve gone up to bed already because it’s pitch dark and there’s not a sound to be heard.
At risk of my dad or Celia waking up and seeing how drunk Elodie is, I lay her on the couch and cover her with a beige sofa blanket my mom knitted when she was ill. Normally I wouldn’t let her touch this, but right now it feels different.
“How’d you get like this, Freckles?” I whisper, crouched down in front of where she’s lying.
It’s heavy on my mind. Wondering how she got so drunk off one drink. It doesn’t make any sense. I can only guess that someone slipped her something. The question is, who? If that is the case, it was likely the same person who slashed her tires.
I know Elodie’s got a side to her that others don’t see, but no one else should know that. As far as the residents of Willow Creek are concerned, Elodie is a fucking saint.
No one but me should be fucking with her.
A text comes through on my phone, so I stand up and pull it out from the front pocket of my jeans, hoping Brady found something.
Abby: I forgive you.
For fuck’s sake. Why won’t this bitch take a hint? I don’t want her. Never have. Never will. She’s always in my face, trying to make out as if she wants everyone to see. When I push her away, she just comes back for more. Doesn’t she realize she’s a temporary distraction when I have nothing else to do?
I don’t even bother texting her back. Instead, I scroll up to the video I sent myself from her phone.
