Page 30 of Fourth Wheel

“I’d rather eat glass and shit out the shards than hook up with you, Adley,” I hiss so only he can hear. “Remind me—was it one or two girls who accused you of assault your junior year?”

Andrew pales, and I go for the hail Mary pass.

“That’s what I thought. You so much as try and touch me, and I’ll drive myself down to the hospital and tell them you forced yourself on me without my fucking permission. A dozen guys just heard you stake your claim—do you think they’d all stay quiet if they were called in for questioning?”

He backs away from me, his steps slow as he moves toward the barn. “You’re going to be sorry you came here tonight, Wheeler.”

At least we agree on one thing.

I watch him retreat into the barn as I calm my racing heart rate and steady my breathing. Seconds pass as I mentally recover from what just happened—what I fucking did.

The mess is far from cleaned up. Fielding’s still lying on the ground, and I have no idea how I’m going to move his big-ass body on my own, but we need to get out of here as quickly as possible.

I drop to my knees at his side, and mud squelches under my weight. I close my eyes in anguish, taking a moment of silence to mourn my favorite white jeans.

“Hey, Fielding.”

He’s on his ass, knees pulled into his chest, head hanging low. I glance around again to make sure no one’s lingering. I’m relieved to see Andrew hasn’t returned, and the other guys must have gone inside the barn with him. He won’t leave me alone for long—I’ve just gotta get Fielding out of here before he comes back looking to prove a point.

“Fielding,” I whisper with more urgency, shaking his knee to try and get him to come to.

He sort of grunts, but I can’t tell if it’s a grunt of recognition or a grunt of pain.

“Fielding, come on. Get up. We have to get out of here.”

He curls up, like maybe he’s going to try to stand, but then falls flat onto his back instead.

Fuckity fuck. What am I supposed to do now?

I pull out my phone and realize it’s still recording. I end the video, then scroll through my recent calls until I get to Paige’s number. I click it and hold my breath as the phone rings.

The call goes to voicemail on the second ring, and a text comes through before I even hit end.

Paige: OMG Mads! I’m upstairs with Kyle. Lucky Lucy for the win!!!

Ugh. What now?

The next person in my contact list is Travis.

Wait, Travis was with me on the picnic table. Where the hell did he go?

I glance down at Fielding’s outstretched body; he’s lying with his arm pinned behind his back. Shit. That doesn’t look comfortable. Or natural. I have no idea how long those guys were beating on him before I got out here. What if he’s really hurt and needs medical attention? I’m afraid to move him and hurt him further, but I need to get him out of here—fast.

Travis answers on the third ring.

“What the fuck was that, Maddie?”

Oh. So hedidsee what happened. And he decided to—what? Stay out of it and let me face off with at least ten guys by myself? Charming.

“Are you still here? I could really use some help.”

He scoffs into the phone. “That was fucking reckless, Maddie. I heard what Adley said to you. I’m sorry, but I’m not getting mixed up with him.”

Talk about a fair-weather fucker. I end the call without saying goodbye.

I focus on my call list again, eyes landing on the name I probably should have started with. He’s going to lose his freaking mind. But at least he’ll help me.

The phone rings once, then twice, then a third time. It kicks over to voicemail after the fourth ring, and it takes every ounce of willpower I possess not to chuck my phone across the yard.