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rgive him, or like him, or whatever it is you’re trying to do right now. But make some kind of understanding with him. For your sake and the rest of the family’s.”
“No. I’m not talking to him again.”
“Oh God, you guys,” Fox cried, bursting into the room with wide, worried eyes as he held up his phone as if he’d just gotten a call. “Beau’s been in a car accident.”
“What?” Mom and I cried together, whirling toward him.
I flew off the bed, upsetting the plate that had been on my lap and causing food to fly everywhere.
“Is he okay?” I demanded, pressing my hand against my heart as if that would help regulate it because it was suddenly thumping out of a control. “Oh God, he’s still alive, isn’t he?”
Fox blinked at me, then smirked. “Thought you didn’t care,” he taunted, dropping the phone to his side and sniffing. “I thought he could die right now and it wouldn’t matter to you at all.”
I blinked at him once before realizing he was playing one over on me. Beau hadn’t been in any kind of accident, and my scheming little brother was about to die.
Screeching in outrage for getting me to reveal any kind of concern, I charged. “How could you, you little eavesdropper? I’m going to—”
“No,” Mom said, popping off the bed to catch my arm and prevent me from murdering her son with my bare claws. “No blood on a school night. And Fox just proved my point completely, though he just became grounded for life over scaring the heck out of both of us like that,” she added sharply, giving him a death glare.
His eyes widened. “And I’m gone,” he announced as he quickly fled the room.
Mom pointed toward the doorway as she looked at me. “You go too,” she said. “Straight to the Gamble house.”
I huffed and shook my head. “Fine.”
This was so stupid and unfair. But I found myself once again marching toward the Gamble house, anyway.
Even though I knew Fox had been lying, I still needed to check with my own eyes that Beau was okay.
This time, both his parents were in the front room, curled up on the recliner together, with Aunt Aspen on Uncle Noel’s lap, his arms wrapped around her, and her face resting on his shoulder.
I pulled up short, not expecting to see them like that.
“I, uh, sorry!”
Uncle Noel merely chuckled over my embarrassment and hitched his chin toward the hallway. “He’s in his room.”
“Thank you,” I mumbled humbly, then belatedly added, “And thanks for supper.”
Aunt Aspen nodded. “Thank you for finally coming. He’s had a hard week.”
I didn’t want to feel bad about that—this whole thing never even would have started if he’d just been a little nice to me. But I felt bad anyway. I didn’t like the idea of hurting him.
I nodded mutely, and bowed my head, then hurried toward Beau’s room.
Unable to admit it to anyone, I had kind of missed him these past few days. No one pissed me off the way that Beau did, but no one made my blood pump and feel as alive as he did either. I was so messed up, but I always felt this thrilling jolt whenever I smacked him in the arm and his eyes lit up as if he wanted me to do it again.
But I wasn’t going to think about that because that was weird.
The door to his room was open all the way this time, so I just walked in without announcing myself. He was sitting on the bed, back against the wall with his feet stretched out in front of him and one knee bent up as he heaved out a long sigh and ground the palms of his hands into his eye sockets.
A compassionate ache tore through me, wanting to hug him or something. I always experienced a strange, restless distress whenever he was hurt. Before, that had only been over broken bones or skinned knees, but now, apparently it extended to a hurt soul as well. And this agony he was experiencing now felt particularly worse than ever since I knew I was the source of it.
And that made me mad.
Why the heck was I the one feeling guilty here? All this was his fault.
Focusing on my anger and determined to stay upset, I folded my arms over my chest.
