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He shoves his jeans on, and I do the same as I listen. “I had my phone turned down. I always have it turned up. They fucking needed me, and I didn’t have my goddamn phone.”
I wince because that was a fail on my part too. I know that. We always make sure his phone and mine are up loud and near us. But last night, I was lost in ecstasy, and I fell asleep before I could make sure we had our phones. “Shit. Are they okay?”
We pull on our shirts and hoodies, and I grab my keys as we head out of the trailer. “No. Mary is hurt. They didn’t say what happened. I just have missed calls, and Anna asking me to come home. They aren’t supposed to be home. Why the hell are they home?”
“It’s going to be okay. I promise.” We hop in my truck, and I know I can’t really promise that. It feels like my heart is living in my throat right now, but I want to comfort him in any way I can.
We reach his house, and he’s opening his door before I even get the truck into park. He flies toward the house, and I shuffle after him. He opens the door, and Mary is instantly in his arms. “Mary. What the hell happened?”
Anna is there, and she looks like she’s been crying, but my eyes stay firmly on Elliot and their mother. They both look worn and tired. Elliot looks pissed-off, and their mom has been crying.
“What the fuck happened?” Zach barks at his mother and Elliot when he sees the bruise on Mary’s forehead the same time I do. It’s already dark purple and swollen. He makes a beeline to Elliot and grabs him by the collar before I can reach them. “What did you do?”
“Nothing.” He shoves at Zach, but he’s like a bull when he’s mad, and right now, he’s fucking livid. Zach doesn’t budge, shoving Elliot against the wall and still holding onto his collar. “She fell.”
“Bullshit,” Zach snarls, getting into his face, and as badly as I want to watch him beat the living shit out of Elliot—and would like to help—I don’t want him going to jail.
“Zach,” I try to placate him.
But it’s like he doesn’t hear me. “What did you do to her, you piece of shit?”
“Zachary, please,” his mom pleads.
His eyes remain on Elliot while I look at their mom. “Why are you guys home? You’re supposed to be out of town.”
“You’re damn right, we were,” Elliot spits, and I glare at him. “But Mary just couldn’t let us have one damn night to ourselves.”
“She’s sick, you asshole,” Anna screams, tears streaming down her cheeks.
Zach looks over at his sisters. “You’re sick? Why didn’t you call me?” Mary shrinks into herself, and Zach looks pale. “Oh, God. You tried to call me, and I didn’t answer.”
“It was really early. I threw up. Grandma said she was going to take me home, and I called you, but you...” She’s crying now, and Zach releases Elliot, shoving him back into the wall as he moves to Mary and kneels down in front of her. “Grandma called Mom and Elliot.”
“I’m so sorry.” He hugs her, and my heart shatters. Goddammit. The phones. We know better. We know shit like this can happen. I’m mentally kicking myself when Elliot has the nerve to speak again.
“She doesn’t seem sick to me. She was running around like a little hellion and tripped.”
“Bullshit,” Zach says, hugging Mary again and standing up to face Elliot. “You motherfucker. If she tells me you laid one hand on her, you’re dead.”
“Zach no,” Mary cries. “I just want to leave. I want to go to Adam’s. I want Mrs. Bates.”
“Honey, she’s not your mom,” their mom corrects her, and I bite my tongue, even though I want to shake this woman. To scream at her for letting her kids down so damn badly.
I know she’s had so much bad shit happen to her, but these are her babies. She’s supposed to protect them. She’s supposed to put them first. And she does none of that. Instead, she’s now pleading with Zach not to take them when he tells the girls to pack a bag and get their coats.
They listen to him, and Zach walks closer to Elliot and his mom. “They aren’t staying here anymore. It’s not happening.”
“Zach.” His mother reaches out to touch his arm, but he pulls away and direct a death glare at her.
“No. I’m taking them.”
Elliot scoffs loudly. “You’re eighteen. You’re in high school. You don’t have anywhere to go. You can’t provide for them.”
“You’re not going anywhere near my sisters ever again,” Zach says, determination on his face.
“Honey, you can’t take them. We’re their parents.” His mother’s tone is so damn patronizing, I want to strangle her. They aren’t parents.
“I can. I’m eighteen. I’ll figure it out. I’ll get a job, and I’ll find us a place.”
