Page 93 of From the Wreckage

Everett

I keep my arm tight around Bri as we climb the stairs to her off-campus apartment. She’s steady on her feet, but I can feel the tremor in her body, the adrenaline still working through her.

She unlocks the door, and I follow her inside, scanning the place out of instinct. It’s empty. Quiet.

Bri lets out a shaky breath, glancing around. She blinks before her brows draw in confusion. “Her plants are gone.”

I raise my brows. “Plants?”

“Dad and I joked that he was going to overwater her plants. She had them everywhere. Now, there’s nothing.”

“Interesting,” I mutter, my mind already cataloging what it means when someone clears out in a hurry.

We head down the hallway, but before we reach her room, she jerks to a stop. “She’s not here.” Her voice is soft, almost disbelieving. “I thought for sure Meghan would be waiting, geared up for a confrontation, or to pretend to be my friend.”

I set the boxes down on her bed, meeting her eyes. “You exposed her, angel. She ran like a scared rabbit.”

Her lips twitch, a ghost of a smile flickering across her face. It doesn’t last, but I catch it. And I’ll hold onto it.

She grabs her suitcase from the closet, then starts pulling things from her desk drawers. I help her fold clothes into the suitcase, every move careful and deliberate.

Her cheeks flush, and I catch a glimpse of lace. Her body is rigid as she closes the drawer. “Um. Could you get me a bottle of water?”

“Course, angel.” I hear the drawer open again as I head back to the kitchen. She’s nervous about me seeing her intimates after what she’s been through. Hopefully, I can help her?—

I freeze when I see a bottle of blue liquor sitting on the counter. Beside it, a blister pack of dull green capsules.

The sight knocks the air out of me. My fist closes around them before I even think, shoving both into my pocket. Fury scorches through my veins, sharp and ice-cold, but I choke it back. Not here. Not now.

I force myself to grab a bottle of water from the fridge and school my face into a neutral expression.

When I return, Bri takes it from me with a smile, none the wiser, and takes a big gulp.

She zips her suitcase, her sunflower necklace glinting against her sweatshirt with every move.

“Almost done,” she murmurs, her gaze moving around the room before landing on mine.

“Then we’re gone,” I say, my voice steady. “And you never have to come back here again unless you want to.”

She pauses, her eyes meeting mine. “You mean that?”

I step closer, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “I mean it. You call the shots now, Bri. Not him. Not her. You. ”

Her throat bobs as she swallows, and for the first time today, I see the spark of control returning to her eyes.

And I know, deep down, Joey and Meghan’s downfall has only just begun.