Page 14

Shane awoke slowly, like trying to tune into a bad radio station. There were snippets of waking up - the unfamiliar feeling of a mattress, a mouthwatering smell, a shadow on the wall - but he kept sinking back under like he hadn’t slept in a year. Or half of one, anyway.

When his brain finally started blearily forming actual thoughts and realized the lump he’d wrapped his arm around wasn’t a pillow, the first coherent words in his head were I’m fucking fucked .

He opened his eyes and there she was, all tiny and adorable. Her back was pressed tight against his chest, and she was curled up into a ball so dense he could bowl with her.

He stretched the fingers on his left hand that had been locked tightly around both of hers which she held clasped together, like in prayer. He tensed, and shifted his hand to her arm, gently trying to shake her awake. She didn’t budge.

“Hey,” he murmured. Still nothing. He shook her more firmly, and she groaned.

Her arm drifted back lazily, fingers brushing his jaw, before prodding their way along to the back of his neck and pulling him closer to her.

He shimmied farther away. “Hey, wake up,” he said, louder.

“No,” she grumbled, elbowing him swiftly in the ribs.

He fought off a smile, but shook her again, a little harder this time. “What are you doing in here? This is weird, okay?”

“I’m sleeping,” she mumbled.

“Is there a reason you’re doing it in my room?”

“My brother’s room.”

She stretched, and he rolled as far as he could to the edge of the mattress. But it was when she turned to face him, the last of the afternoon sunlight streaming in through the window and illuminating her face, that he really started to panic.

“Jesus Christ…” he said, sitting up.

“That bad?” she asked, prodding her cheek and wincing.

Shane felt like he was going to be sick.

She looked like a damned raccoon. The entire left side of her face was swollen, the deep shadow of a blackening bruise ringing her eye and creeping up towards her temple. She closed her eyes and rubbed her unbruised temple in circles, clearly willing away a headache.

“I’ll be right back,” he muttered, and he went into the kitchen to retrieve the bag of peas. “Here,” he said, handing it to her.

“Thanks,” she sighed, and pressed it to her face before immediately falling asleep again.

His throat felt hot, and tight, and he didn’t think he’d ever felt so fucking guilty in his entire fucking life. He’d thrown a lot of punches, some more deserving than others, but he’d never hurt anyone by accident before. He’d never hit a girl. And he felt like a sack of shit.

After twenty minutes he removed the peas and returned them to the freezer. He watched the clock tick by for another twenty, then pulled them back out, refreshingly cold, and put them back on her face. She let out a little whimper and he winced, but she didn’t wake up.

He sat on the floor, his back against the wall, and by the time she finally stirred again, it was dark. Dustin had left his room at some point and begun making noise in the kitchen, but there was no sign of their mother, or of the other brother.

“Hey,” he said softly as she propped herself up.

“My face feels better,” she said, prodding her cheek again. It looked worse, and he suppressed the urge to vomit.

“Fuck… I can’t apologize enough…”

She waved him off. “Just stop blowing off my recovery cuddles and we’re even.”

He swallowed. “Um, about that? This whole thing is… weird. Like, not cool. You shouldn’t be in here.”

“Why?”

“Why shouldn’t you be in here?”

“Why is it weird.”

He huffed. “Because.”

“Because why?”

“Just because , okay?”

She sat up. “You afraid you’re gonna poke my butt with your dick, or something?”

He opened his mouth, and closed it, and opened it again. No sound came out.

She scoffed. “You should be so lucky, you know. My butt is gorgeous.” She threw back the blanket with a flourish and stood, her giant tee sliding off her shoulder, his panic ratcheting up to ‘terror’ as his pulse hammered in his ears at her exposed skin.

Dustin suddenly appeared in the doorway. Shane tried opening his mouth again but still, words were not a thing.

“Dinnertime?” Laney asked, wincing as she yawned.

Dustin studied Shane. “Fish face,” he said, before disappearing back down the hall.

Yup. I’m fucking fucked.