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A little less than an hour later, all seven of us are walking into the jail, Tanner and Gabe taking lead about convincing them to drop the charges.
We called in a few favors on the way over to pick Damon and Shane up, and after another thirty minutes of phone calls and shady side-dealing, two idiots stumble out from their cell, beaten to shit and smelling like they’d dumped every bottle of liquor all over themselves before managing to get cuffed.
My eyes lock on Damon, my rage building as he grins like the entire thing is funny.
A few years ago? Yeah, it would have been funny, and I would have been stumbling out right beside him, but we’re getting too old for this crap.
I head straight for Damon, Sawyer helping me out, while Jase and a Taylor head for Shane.
We’re packed back into the cars within another ten minutes, heading back to Tanner’s to figure this out.
Damon doesn’t say a word to me the entire ride, even though Shane’s more than happy to fill us in on the story.
My brother is half asleep as we pull up to the gates to Tanner’s neighborhood.
I take the opportunity to slip his phone from his pocket, punch in his code and scroll through to see one fucking number that shouldn’t be there.
Don’t ask me how Tanner knows my rage just skyrocketed, but he turns to look at me from the front seat, and I toss the phone his direction.
Tanner is a hell of lot better at hiding what he’s thinking. With a nod, he tosses the phone back, a muscle in his jaw jumping once before he turns to look ahead again.
Getting them inside is less of a struggle, both joking about the fight with slurred words and stumbling feet.
Poor Luca is sitting in the kitchen with Ava, her worried expression following us as we move past her on our way upstairs.
That woman has only been around us a handful of times, both at Yale and these last few days, and she’s always getting a front row view of the worst we have to offer.
When I get Damon into a guest room, I drop him on the bed to sleep off the alcohol, but he grabs my wrist before I can walk away, the swelling in his face reminding me of weekends I’d rather forget.
“I saw Emily.”
My brow cocks at that. “At the bar?”
He laughs, the sound rough as he scrubs a hand down his face and looks up at me with swollen, bloodshot eyes.
“No. I went to her house earlier today.”
“Why the fuck would you do that?”
“I had to know,” he barks. “It’s like she was there one second and gone the next. But then after seeing her at the engagement party, after-“
His lips slam shut before he finishes the thought. It’s not like he needs to say it. I know exactly what he’s thinking.
“Anyway, I asked her why she ditched us, and she gave some bullshit answer.”
I can’t help my curiosity about that.
“What did she say?”
He shakes his head.
“She was fucking lying so it’s not worth repeating. I kissed her and knew we’re still in her head.”
My hand balls into a fist. Not that I would hurt Damon over this, but just knowing he was that close to her creates a visceral reaction in me.
Emily Donahue is a problem.
For both of us.
