Page 9 of The Love Ambush (The Sullivans #1)

Gentry

I t’s a field party. Because of course it is.

I hated field parties when I was in high school. Not that I got invited to a ton of them, but the few I did go to involved a lot of wandering around in the dark, trying not to bump into people. Add in an alcohol-induced haze of confusion, and my memories of the parties are more stressful than fun.

“I so don’t want to be here,” Sophie says, echoing my thoughts perfectly.

“We’ll split up,” I say. “That’s the quickest way to find her.”

“We have to go in there? Just call her and tell her to get her ass out here.”

“Her phone is still turned off.”

“God, she’s such a brat.”

“We’ll stick to the shadows,” Ariel says. “If we see anyone we know, we’ll act like we’ve been here all night.”

“Can’t we just stay in the car and you go find her, Gentry? I cannot handle seeing Ben…Anyone from school.”

I recognize the pain in her voice. Fear of embarrassment is strong in both of us. “It’s going to take longer to find her if you two don’t help, but—”

“You can stay in the car, Sophie,” Ariel says. “But I’m helping Gentry. You know what Dawson can be like. Time is of the essence.”

“What’s Dawson—?” I start.

“Fine,” Sophie says. “Just gang up on me, both of you.”

She marches off into the darkness. Out here in the country, dark is pitch black. Especially on a cloudy night in October.

“Dawson is one of those guys who can get any girl he wants, but prefers a challenge,” Ariel says. “And he’s not afraid to use whatever chemicals are on hand to get what he wants.”

My stomach roils, and I press a hand to my mouth to keep from vomiting. I swallow hard. “I thought they were teaching about consent in schools now?”

Ariel snorts as she heads off into the night after Sophie. “Some assholes are still going to asshole even when they’re taught better.”

My mind now doom-spiraling with thoughts of Emily, unconscious and drunk, being assaulted by a sixteen-year-old predator, I stumble-run into the darkness.

The sounds of laughter and talking emerge after a few steps. Tall grass brushes against my jean-clad calves. I’m so grateful that it’s October and all the snakes are likely hibernating.

A few more steps and there’s the glow of a bonfire. I can just make out Ariel heading in the same direction. I pick up my pace as the ground under my tennis shoes becomes more visible.

But there are only about twenty kids around the fire. None of them is Emily, and none of them has any idea where Emily is.

Ariel and I agree to split up, and I smack into Sophie just outside the circle of light from the fire.

“Ouch,” Sophie whisper-shouts. “Watch where you’re going, Gentry.”

“I literally can’t watch where I’m going, Sophie. Have you found Emily?”

“Obviously not. She’s not here. Can we leave?”

“You know how these parties are. Just because she’s not by the fire, that doesn’t mean she’s not here.”

From the darkness, someone lets out a scream of laughter. “I’ll head that way.” I point toward the sound. “You go toward the main road.”

Sophie huffs. “Fine. Whatever. If I get lost out here, I’m blaming you.”

“Fine.”

I take off at a careful jog using my phone for light.

The air is sharp with cold and smells of wood smoke and wild onions.

It makes me feel like I’m sixteen again, awkward and desperate to get out of my small town and never look back.

If I could have seen this future for myself, I would have despaired.

Too bad I can’t go back and tell my past self how much I’ve come to love this little town and how grateful I am to be able to take care of my sisters even when I mess up or they’re mean to me.

I didn’t have much of a relationship with Emily and Sophie when I was a teenager. I don’t even remember what they were interested in as kids. Other than that stupid cartoon about a talking dog that Sophie was obsessed with.

Another shout echoes through the darkness, and I adjust course toward it.

Someone runs at me, not visible until the very last moment, lit only by the cell phone in their hand. They hit me hard with their shoulder, not slowing at all.

“Marco,” someone shouts as I try to catch my balance, step in a gopher hole and topple to the ground into something soft, gooey and smelling like cow manure.

“Polo!” someone else shouts.

The manure squishes between the fingers of my right hand as I push against the ground to get back on my feet. “I hate field parties,” I say as I step to the side and rub my poop-covered hand on the grass, trying to clean it off.

A quick check with the flashlight reveals my hand is filthy, but free of chunks. There’s also manure on the sleeve of my coat and down the front of it. Of course, I had to land in a giant cow patty.

Finding Emily is more important than getting clean, so I follow the shouts of Marco Polo and add my own shout of Emily’s name.

“Emily’s not here,” a guy yells. “You’re screwing up our game.”

“If you’re lying to me, I’m going to—”

“She’s not here, bitch. Go away.”

“Unless you want to play,” another guy yells. “You sound hot.”

Ugh, high schoolers. “I’m not. I’m an ugly troll who lives under a bridge.”

“Definitely hot,” a girl says.

I take off back into the darkness, headed in a new direction.

I’m getting really sick of the smell of manure by the time I see light in the distance. I don’t think I’ve circled back to the bonfire, because this light is still and yellow, an electric light.

Using the flashlight to guide my way, I pick up my pace to a jog.

As I get closer, I hear voices and laughter. Then I see them. A bunch of kids are hanging out on a back patio, beers in hand, sitting on wicker outdoor furniture and each other’s laps. I scan the crowd, but don’t see Emily.

When I step onto the patio, the kids see me one-by-one and go silent. Shushing each other when the last few fail to notice me.

Before they can ask any of the questions I see on their faces, I speak up. “I’m looking for Emily Lendew.”

Silence reigns as the kids look from one to another. The lack of an immediate no makes it clear I’ve finally come to the right place.

“I’m not leaving until I find her. She’s only fourteen, and she ran away from home to come to this party, so you can tell me where she is or I’m going to call the cops to help me find her.”

“Je-sus. No need to get hysterical,” one of the guys, with floppy hair that covers his eyes, says. “She’s inside with Dawson.”

My heart goes cold, and nausea rises again. I march to the sliding glass door.

“You don’t want to go in there,” a girl says. “There are things you won’t be able to unsee.”

I have to press my clean hand to my mouth not to vomit up my heart at the insinuation. I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to see anyone hurting my baby sister. I want to wake up and have none of this be real.

But that’s not an option. I have to be strong for Emily.

I slide open the back door and step into what looks like a game room, with linoleum floors, a pool table, couches, and a big-screen TV with a gaming system.

There’s a guy on the couch, shirt-less, sprawled in a relaxed pose as he sips his beer. He doesn’t flinch as he looks up at me, his eyes sparkling. “You smell like shit. Don’t sit on my furniture until you get cleaned up.”

“I’ll be leaving as soon as I find my sister. Emily. Have you seen her?”

His smile is lecherous. “Oh, I’ve seen her all right. She’s in the bathroom. Why don’t you come back in an hour or two? She’s not ready to leave.”

I let out a slow breath and force my hands to unclench. I cannot go to prison for punching a child. I cannot go to prison for punching a child.

“You must be Dawson.”

His smile widens. “She’s told you about me.”

“I know you’re a junior in high school, so that makes you what? Sixteen? Seventeen?”

“I was held back a year,” he says. “Kindergarten. I’m seventeen.”

“Do you know what statutory rape is, Dawson?”

He shrugs. “Like a dude hiding in a parking lot to force himself on some woman?”

I shove my hands behind my back to keep from strangling him. “It’s when anyone has any kind of sexual interaction with a child who’s between the ages of thirteen and fifteen. If you’ve touched Emily, I will call the police.”

He sits up, hands in the air, one still holding a beer can. “I haven’t touched her. But if I did, she’d be thrilled. I don’t rape people.”

“Newsflash, asshole,” I say, at the end of my patience with him. “If the girl is too drunk or high to know what’s going on, it’s rape.”

He lowers his hands, his expression twisting, his eyes going cold. “Every fucking girl at my school would be grateful for the opportunity to wrap her lips around my cock. I’ve never left anyone unsatisfied.”

“Only because they’re too scared to speak up.” I don’t know this for a fact, but I wouldn’t be surprised based on what Ariel said and the way he’s looking at me like he wants to murder me.

“Gentry?” Emily asks as she wobbles into the room from some unknown location, a woman I’ve never seen before standing behind her, her mouth pressed into a grim line.

“Are you responsible for this child?” the woman asks, her brows high.

“She’s my sister. I’m taking her home right now.”

“No, Gentry, you can’t—”

“What were your parents thinking allowing a little girl to attend this party?” the woman asks.

There’s no way in hell I’m telling her I’m Emily’s guardian. I’m not giving her a reason to call CPS. “What are you thinking allowing a bunch of underage drinkers to party on your property?”

The woman’s face goes red and her eyes flash. “They’re responsible kids, and I’m supervising. It’s better than allowing them to sneak around and probably drive drunk. There aren’t supposed to be any children here.”

“They’re all children,” I say, as I back toward the door, wrapping an arm around Emily’s shoulders as she sways.

“And no one allowed this child to come here tonight. In fact, she was forbidden to come here, but this child…” I spin to point out Dawson, but of course the sneak has vanished.

“Dawson brought her to the party after Emily snuck out of the house.”

“Emily?” the woman says. “What is her last name?”

“We’re leaving now.” I slide the glass door open and drag my sister out into the night.

“I don’t want to go,” Emily says.

“Tough. We’re leaving. Now.”

I drag her to the edge of the patio, but she freezes, looking back at the group of kids seated there, and gasps.

Turning to where she’s looking, I wrap my arm tighter around her. Dawson’s got a girl on his lap and he’s kissing her. As we watch, she twists and straddles him, ignoring the hoots and whistles of their friends.

Gripping Emily hard, I physically drag her away from the group, texting Sophie and Ariel as we go.

“This is your fault,” Emily says. “Dawson’s never going to speak to me again.”

“Dawson is a creep. And nowhere near good enough for you.”

“I knew you’d hate him.” Her words are soft around the edges. “You don’t want me to have any happy.”

“I want to keep you safe, Em.”

“You’re ruining my life.”

I sigh and try to figure out where the hell I parked.

“I don’t feel good,” Emily says, right before she bends at the waist and vomits all over the ground, my pants, and my favorite tennis shoes.

I hold her hair and rub her back until she’s done, the acidic scent making my own stomach roil. This has been a rough night for my digestive tract.

With one final cough, she stands and leans into me, all her anger gone.

“I want to go home,” she says, rubbing her mouth. She sounds close to tears.

Somehow, after wandering in the dark for about half an hour, we find Ariel and Sophie.

Ariel, who has an uncanny ability to navigate a field in the dark, leads us back to the car.

We ride home with all the windows down, Sophie complaining about the smell and Emily crying, while I shiver and wish on every star in the sky for that woman at the party not to call CPS or even gossip about what happened tonight.