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“Fuck!” I shout.
Pain shoots through my hand, but the only person to pay any attention to me is some chick with a staring problem. As I raise my brows at her, she scurries by. And Kennedy's door stays firmly shut.
MY PARENTS TRIED TO raise me to be a functional adult. They taught me how to stay out of trouble. What not to do in a stressful situation. Manners and being polite. It's funny that one of the only things that stuck is that a bag of frozen peas makes the best ice packs. It's not like anyone in this house will ever eat the things, but we still have at least four bags in the freezer for when one of us gets injured—which happens far more often than it should.
As the bag goes warm, I put it back into the freezer and start stretching my hand—opening it and closing it to make sure I didn't break anything. Thankfully, it doesn't look like I did any serious damage. If I had, Zayn never would have let me live it down.
Who the fuck decides to punch a brick wall?
Me. That's who.
The front door opens, and Amelia walks in with Tye. They both seem like they're in good moods as they chuckle about something as they saunter into the kitchen. Amelia goes straight to the fridge to grab a chocolate pudding, while Tye goes to the knife block.
“What the hell do you need a knife for?” I ask her.
She finds the biggest one we have and smiles at it before walking toward me. “You.”
I throw my hands up and walk backward until I hit the wall. “Okay, why don't you put that thing down before you hurt yourself?”
It's no use. Within a second, she pins me to the wall and holds the knife to my throat. I can feel the blade there, against my skin but not piercing it—yet. The slightest bit of pressure and it'll cut me.
“Tell me why I shouldn't slit your throat from ear to ear right now,” she hisses.
“What the hell did I do?”
“What did you not do? You barfed on a woman carrying your baby, you blamed her for still being pregnant, and you told Kennedy she should get an abortion!”
Shit. I glance over at my sister, who is sitting on the island, swinging her feet and calmly eating her pudding.
“Mila,” I whine, using her childhood nickname reserved just for me. “A little help here?”
“Oh, no,” she answers without looking at me. “The only reason I'm not over there helping her is because you're my brother.”
“Fantastic.”
Tye stays in place, watching me like some kind of psycho. There isn't a doubt in my mind that she'll actually cut me. She might not fully slit my throat, but she's not above doing some damage.
“I was pissed,” I confess. “She waited to tell me until it was too late to do anything about it!”
“She didn't fucking know, you dense piece of shit!”
Wait, what? “What do you mean she didn't know? She's three months pregnant!”
Tye pulls the knife away and knees me directly in the balls. My stomach tightens as I hunch over in pain, falling to the floor the second she releases me. The feeling like I'm going to vomit again starts to crawl up my throat, but I manage to swallow it back down.
“She just found out,” Amelia informs me. “Maybe a couple weeks ago. But she just went to the doctor yesterday. She had no idea she was so far along.”
Catching my breath, I sit up and lean against the same wall Tye just had me against. And still, the knife hasn't left her hand.
“I didn't know,” I tell them honestly.
“Because you didn't ask,” Tye claps back. “If you had, she would have told you. But no. You were too worried about keeping your life responsibility free. Do you even know the emotional damage that caused her? The girl is already terrified!”
The one thing I've never wanted is for Kennedy to be in pain—emotionally or otherwise. And the fact that I caused even more, at the worst possible time, is so much worse. God, why can't I just go a few days without fucking anything up?
“You're going to fix this,” Tye orders as she stares down at me.
I close my eyes for a second and nod. “I'll do whatever it takes.”
