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“Harper,” my sister's sobs are like fingernails clawing at my ears.
I want to help her, but I can’t move.
I’m helpless—
“You okay?” Wylder asks and I blink, jolting a bit as I get tugged back to reality.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” I reply without looking at him.
My attention is fixed on Brooks. Did he do something to Zayla? He’s currently laughing and fist bumping his friends, maybe because he did.
“Because you can’t find your friend.” Wylder moves so he’s standing in my peripheral vision.
“I’m okay for now,” I inform him. “Unless your friend over there did something to her. Then I’m not going to be okay. And neither is he.”
“Brooks isn’t my friend,” he stresses with annoyance.
I finally look at him, arching my brows. “It didn’t seem that way earlier. Besides, aren't all you football frat guys friends?”
The corners of his lips twitch. “I wouldn’t have guessed you’d be the kind of person to stereotype, considering you just got into an argument with Brooks for thinking all women are crazy.”
“I didn’t get into a fight with him because of that.” Not entirely anyway. “I got into a fight with him because he got in Zayla’s face.” But Wylder is right. I am stereotyping him. “But I’m sorry for stereotyping. I’m sure you aren’t all friends with each other. In fact, I’m betting with guys like him,” I point at Brooks, “You guys get a lot of drama in this house.”
“That’s pretty true,” he replies, turning to face me. He rakes his fingers through his hair, making the blond strands go askew. “Look, I’m not a fan of Brooks, but I doubt he did anything to your friend... Zayla, right?”
I ignore his question. “And let me guess,” I say with sarcasm oozing from my tone. “Now you’re going to tell me that you think that because underneath his assholery he’s really just a super nice guy who’s just afraid to be himself.”
The corners of his lips threaten to turn upward, but he bites the urge back. “No, smartass. I was going to say that while he’s an asshole, he’s an asshole that’s been in this kitchen the entire time.”
Okay, now I just feel stupid.
“All right, fair enough,” I grumble underneath my breath.
I turn around to leave the kitchen and start looking around in other rooms in the house.
“Wait,” he says before I get very far. “I think I might know where she went.”
I rotate toward him with my brows knit. “Did you see her go somewhere?”
He shakes his head. “No, but she wanted to get upstairs, right? That’s what started the fight with Brooks, right?”
“Yeah, but Brooks blocked her way,” I remind him. “And she took off while I was fighting him, so unless there’s another way to get upstairs, I really doubt she went up there.”
“Unless she took off and then came back when no one was by the stairway.”
I frown. “You know what? She may have.” I wind around the kitchen island, heading toward the stairway.
The movement draws Brooks attention and I internally grimace as he makes his way toward me with a beer in his hand.
“And where the hell do you think you’re going?” he sneers at me.
My lips part with a snarky comment that’ll probably result in another argument with him, but Wylder speaks first.
“She’s with me.” He moves up beside me right as reach the bottom of the stairway.
Brooks' gaze shifts from me to Wylder. I expect him to say some rude comment about me, but instead he grins.
“Nice.” He raises his beer to Wylder. “Have fun with that wild thing.” With that, he walks back to the keg.
