Page 36 of Full Out Fiend

One of the brothers cracks his knuckles and grunts. These goons might as well be cartoon characters, but I’m still outnumbered. I hadn’t considered that there are two of them, and only one of me. I wouldn’t put it past them to beat my ass and leave me for dead in this alley.

“Want me to stay back and take care of the trash?” Andrew taunts.

Anthony cackles like a hyena at the jab. “No need, brother. I’d much rather you ride home with us so you can share some of those videos you’ve got saved on your phone.”

Her face is still placid—it’s like she’s unfazed by the apparent power shift that’s just taken place. Why isn’t she standing up for herself? Why won’t she fight?

I watch in horror as Daphne turns her back to me. Anthony slings a meaty arm around her shoulders, pulling her in to his side, and she doesn’t fight it.

It takes all the willpower I possess to keep my feet planted in place. I remind myself to inhale—then exhale—as I stand paralyzed and dumbfounded while she walks away.

She picked him.

She hasn’t even seen the videos yet—she knows what kind of man he is, what his intentions were in Vegas, whether he went through with them or not—and yet without a second thought, she let go of me and followed him out of this alley.

I smash my fist into the bricks behind me and let the throb in my hand distract me from the decimation of my heart. This moment. These familiar feelings. This isn’t the first time I wasn’t someone’s final choice. And yet it hurts even fucking worse than it did before.

She. Picked. Him.

I turn and stalk toward the back parking lot, exhaustion washing over me with each step I take. I just want to get home. Get drunk. Pretend this night never happened.

But I learned my lesson last time.

I know myself well enough to know I can’t do this alone.

Fielding: Can you come home?

He replies two minutes later.

Dumpy: When?

Fielding: Now. Tomorrow. ASAP.

I’m in my car and fastening my seat belt when his second message comes through.

Dumpy: We’re booked on the first flight out tomorrow. We’ll be there before lunch.

I glance at the clock on the dash—11:22 pm. That means I’ve got twelve hours to get blackout drunk, then sober up enough to welcome my brother and his girlfriend back to town.

Challenge fucking accepted.

Chapter 22

Fielding

“Don’tbabyhimlikethat.”

Her nails track through my hair as my stomach churns.

Everything is muffled. Muffled yet resounding. The whole room—my whole life—is spinning off its axis.

“I’m not babying him.”

It’s the wordbabythat wraps me in a chokehold and shoves me toward consciousness.

“I think something’s really wrong,” she murmurs as she continues to scratch my head. “He wouldn’t have asked us to come home otherwise.”

He lets out a long, exasperated sigh a few feet away. My eyes are still closed, but I can picture his eyebrows pulling together and that wrinkle forming above his nose. I don’t even have to see him to know my twin brother’s glaring at me with his stern brunch daddy face.