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“No!” I slap his hand away. “I’ve got nothing to say to you or them.”
A hint of frustration tightens his jaw. “Lana—”
A hand that is bigger than mine reaches out and closes—vice-like—around Fred’s wrist. Threateningly, a cold voice says, “She said she doesn’t have anything to say to you.”
Caleb has a quietly menacing air about him as he glares at my brother. “Do I need to call the police?”
Fred bristles. “Hey, man, this is—”
“I wasn’t talking to you,” Caleb spits out dangerously. “Lana?”
I seem to have lost my voice, so I shake my head.
“I see,” Caleb responds calmly. And then he pivots around and punches Fred in the gut, making my brother crumple to the ground with a groan. “I don’t care if you are her family. Harass her like that again, and I’ll make sure you’re ruined financially.”
Fred pales at the threat. I watch him scramble away before getting to his feet. “Lana, you can’t—”
Caleb steps in front of me, his back blocking my view of Fred, as he says in a chilling voice, “Did I say you could talk to her?”
“That’s my sister,” Fred growls.
“Is she? Didn’t seem like it with the way you were trying to pimp her out.”
Caleb’s statement strikes a chord in me. I flush in shame. Fred is silent for a heartbeat before hissing, “Don’t be absurd. She’s my—”
“Leave, Fred,” I manage to get out. “I don’t want to see you again!”
My brother shoots Caleb a scowl before stepping back. “This isn’t over, Lana.”
He stalks away. My knees feel weak. Shaking, I slump onto the grass.
Caleb crouches next to me, not saying anything. He shrugs out of his jacket, then flings it around my shoulders.
“I’m okay,” I say dazedly. “I’m fine.”
He doesn’t respond, just patiently waits next to me. I don’t know how long we sit there before he offers his hand. “Let’s sit on the bench.”
He sits next to me on the wooden bench, then takes out a pack of cigarettes. I mumble, “I thought you quit smoking.”
“I did,” he replies calmly, but then lights up, taking a drag before exhaling a stream of smoke.
Silently, I sit by his side. From my peripheral vision, I watch him take out his phone. He fiddles with it before tucking it back in his pocket and taking another drag of the cigarette.
“Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it.”
We continue to sit together, his presence calming me. I feel empty inside, as if somebody has scraped out everything and left nothing salvageable behind. My hands are limp in my lap, and I have no energy to move. There’s a numbness inside my chest I’m afraid to touch. Under it lies an unbearable pain that will shatter me if I acknowledge it. So, I sit still, trying not to jostle the wound.
Footsteps and the sound of cloth rustling has me up slowly lifting my head, though it feels as though it weighs a hundred pounds.
When I see a tall figure walking toward me, that familiar trench coat flapping around his knees, blue eyes filled with concern, I sense a crack in the flimsy barrier I’ve erected around myself.
“Thank you,” I whisper to Caleb. He stands, grinding his cigarette out underneath his heel.
“You’re welcome.” As Oliver approaches me, my friend gives me a look. “You know you just have to give the word for me to take care of this whole mess, right?”
I study him, a soft sigh escaping me. “You know why I can’t.”
