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“Oh, so you would have rather let him get his hands on Rory?” Joaquin replied.
“Well, if you want me to kick the ass of every guy who puts his hands on Rory…” Tristan said, getting right up in Joaquin’s face.
“Step back, Tristan,” Joaquin said, pushing Tristan backward.
“No. I don’t think I will.” Tristan shoved Joaquin with both hands.
“You guys. Don’t!”
But it was too late. Joaquin pulled back and threw a punch at Tristan’s face. I screamed as it landed with a crack across Tristan’s jaw, sending him reeling sideways into Dorn’s chest. Dorn caught him, and I expected him to hold Tristan back or get between the two of them, or at least hold Tristan back, but he merely turned Tristan around and gave him a little push, sending him back for more.
“Dorn!” I shouted.
He gave a little shrug as Tristan threw himself at Joaquin’s midsection. Joaquin was flipped off his feet and hit the walkway on his back. For a second he lay still, his eyes wide open, gasping for air. Tristan had knocked the wind right out of him.
“Tristan! Stop!” I shouted as Tristan straddled Joaquin and cocked his right fist. He froze, and I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, pulling him away from Joaquin. “Get off him! He can’t breathe!”
The wind flung my hair across my eyes and into my mouth as I dragged Tristan away. Dorn knelt down and helped Joaquin sit up, and he finally sputtered and coughed, dragging in a long, ragged breath with his hand to his chest. The clouds had moved in fast, blocking out the sun and casting everything in their dull gray shadow. A circle of crows cawed merrily overhead as if beckoning the storm our way.
Joaquin took a few deep breaths, looking up at me as he struggled to get control. He grasped Dorn’s arm and staggered to his feet. “I’m going to see if I can track down Kevin,” he said, then turned to Dorn. “You, don’t let the new kid out of his cell.”
Dorn nodded curtly. “Got it.”
“Why don’t you guys go get some rest?” Joaquin added, looking at Tristan and me. “We can meet at the mayor’s in the morning and discuss our options.”
“Options?” Tristan said, his chest still heaving.
Joaquin laughed, shaking his head. “You know what I’m talking about, Tristan. You saw the way Pete was acting in there. He’s not gonna say anything, and this place is going to hell in a handbasket. We have to discuss our options.”
Tristan’s jaw set, his eyes grim. “We can’t—”
“Dude, the guy hit you over the head with a baseball bat. He almost killed you. He did kill Nadia and possibly Cori, too. He betrayed us. Everything you believe in. And the only way to fix it is to get him to talk.” Joaquin paused. He took a step toward Tristan, whose hands automatically coiled into fists. Joaquin held up his palms.
“Just think about it,” he said. “That’s all I’m asking. Take the night to think about it.” Then he looked up at the blackening sky. “If we even have that long.”
He turned around and stormed off toward the others on the far sidewalk to give out orders. Tristan took a few cleansing breaths, then glanced at Dorn.
“If he finds Kevin, let me know,” he said.
“Will do,” Dorn replied. “But I’m sure he’ll contact you on the walkie.”
Tristan looked off after Joaquin. “Yeah, I’m not so sure about that.”
He took one step in the direction of his house, but I stopped him, clasping his wrist with both hands. He looked down at my fingers, then ever so slowly, trailed his gaze along my arm, up to my shoulders, and finally met my eyes.
“You’re not going home,” I said, tense with the fear of rejection, no matter how determined my words were.
“No?” he asked. “Where am I going?”
I released his wrist and trailed one hand down to entwine my fingers with his. “You’re coming with me.”
By the time we got back to my house, the wind was so intense we had to cling to each other as we turned down Magnolia and staggered toward the gate. Dead leaves and flower petals scraped our faces, and a scrap of paper slapped against my leg, wrapping itself around my calf and staying there as I reached for the latch. The second I released it, the gate flew open, slamming back into the fence and cracking off its hinges. Tristan grabbed for it, but there was nothing he could do. It tumbled end-over-end down the street and crashed into the side of a neighboring house.
“Let’s get inside,” he said.
I nodded, and together we hunched forward, sprinting up the front walk. My hands shook as I unlocked the door, and Tristan clung to it so it wouldn’t meet the same fate as the gate. He pulled it closed behind us and turned the lock. Inside, I flicked on the first three lights I came to. Tristan followed and we met in the center of the living room, facing each other over the two-foot breadth of the wooden coffee table.
I felt queasy and nervous. An hour ago, Tristan had caught me kissing another guy—his best friend. And now here we were, alone. No matter what I said, it would never be enough. But I had to try.
