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“It’s gonna be okay, Eves. Let’s just get to the party and enjoy the blessings we have. Even if you are annoyed right now, you and I both know that you wouldn’t trade any of us for the world. So stop fighting it.”
That is a lot easier said than done.
* * *
We cross the threshold of Kelly house and are immediately accosted by Elijah.
“Where the hell have you been, Micah,” he growls. “I need your help with Caleb.”
Micah’s face falls at Elijah’s welcome. “Ever heard of a cell phone?”
He continues to observe Elijah, and his eyebrows squish together in confusion.
“What’s wrong? He’s going down in history as the quarterback who won against Dartmouth.” He flashes his perfect white smile at Elijah, but it’s not returned.
Elijah relaxes his shoulders, and his eyes grow dark, bringing the temperature in the room down five degrees.
“Let’s go to the back. We have to talk,” he grumbles, turning to lead us through the crowd.
Micah attempts to grab my arm, and I stiffen.
“You guys go. I’m gonna go to the bar,” I tell him, desperate for the liquid courage I’m going to need to get through an awkward night.
Elijah talks over his shoulder. “As much as I don’t want you around, you’re gonna need to hear this too. Don’t say I didn’t do you any favors.”
Cursing under my breath, I grab Celeste, forcing her to join me and leaving Taylor to dutifully follow behind.
Once we get outside, my attention is lured to a dark corner, where Caleb is pacing like a raging bull. I can feel his anger, and it makes me pause my steps.
“Elijah,” I shout. “What’s going on?”
He drops his chin and stares at me through his lashes.
“He’s upset,” Elijah deadpans and then rolls his eyes. “Hence my comment, ‘we need to talk’.”
I send daggers, wishing that looks really could kill. “I get that, dick. Just wanted to know why.”
He doesn’t bother to answer and keeps walking towards a brooding Caleb.
“Dude, relax,” Elijah says once we reach him.
“When in the history of human beings has ‘relax’ ever calmed anyone down?” I say in exaggerated shock.
The fucker prevented me from getting a drink, it’s the least I can do.
His head snaps in my direction. “I said you need to listen, not that you need to speak.”
Caleb keeps pacing, barely even noticing our arrival. He tugs at the hard collar of his dress shirt. “I can’t fucking breathe in this thing,” he says, unbuttoning his collar and letting his dragon tattoo peek through the fabric.
Micah speaks. “Tell me, brother, what has you exceedingly agitated?”
I watch in awe as Micah straightens his back and his whole demeanor feels bigger—darker somehow—as he watches his brother’s actions. His jovial nature from a minute ago is overshadowed by something much, much darker.
Caleb looks at Micah, and a flash of pain crosses over his features.
“My mom called. I thought it was to congratulate us, but instead, I was told to fucking stand down.”
I look between the three of them in confusion. Micah stands unnaturally still as his curls move with the light breeze. He’s watching Caleb the way a predator would watch its prey—not that he would ever attack Caleb.
