Page 62 of This Blood That Binds Us

I stole a look back at the crowd. “How did you find out?” I spoke in a whisper, knowing he could hear me. My hand was shaking at my side.

“WHAT?! You know?” Presley yelled. “Aaron told you, didn’t he! I knew it!”

Despite the loud music, he had gained a few sideways glances.

Shushing him, I said, “Presley, please be quiet. You can’t tell anyone!”

“I can’t believe I was actually right! I knew Aaron couldn’t keep a secret.” He bounced.

“He didn’t tell me. I found out . . . another way.”

“You found out another way...” His head popped up. “What, did he bite you or something?”

The nightmare continued. I couldn’t believe it. How could he guess? How could he figure it out?

His eyes were wide, and he bounced again. “I was right, wasn’t I!? He bit you! Holy shit.”

“How did you figure it out?”

He held up his hand matter-of-factly, counting down. “Well, you’re a bad liar, for one. Two, you didn’t even flinch when Zach broke that chair in the living room. Let alone question it. Three, you guys have been sneaking around and giving each other the eyes. It was not that hard to decipher.”

My face was hot, and my stomach was doing somersaults. It was too much. I wasn’t ready for Aaron’s older brothers to know about me yet. Something deep inside me was directly opposed to that idea, but I didn’t know why.

“Presley, please don’t say anything to your brothers.”

He wouldn’t let it go that easily. Like a five year old, who just discovered the best secret in the world, it was written all over his face.

“Come on. This is the secret of the century! It explains so many things!”

“Please. I’m literally begging you not to tell them.”

I spotted a familiar face making his way through the crowd. Luke beelined for the bathroom, only he was alone. Aaron wasn’t following him. I turned my attention back toward Presley. “I have to go. Just don’t say anything yet. Please.”

His smile softened. “Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.”

I had no idea if I could trust him enough to believe a word from his mouth, but it would have to do. I had done enough begging for one night. I pushed through bodies, much slower than I’d hoped. Sweaty bodies packed together like sardines closer toward the stage. I made an exit for the hallway that led to both bathroom doors.

“Luke?” I peaked my head in, trying not to startle him. “Is everything okay?”

He stopped at the sound of my voice, but didn’t turn to face me. I moved in, trying to get a good look at his face. Luke’s once-warm complexion was cold. His expression had turned into a blank slate. His hands were shaking. The blue neon sign above us cast a dark shadow on his face.

He was silent as he stared off into space. His forehead creased, the reflection of pain registering into his frown lines.

“Hey, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”

Luke closed his eyes for a second and took a step back. When his back hit the wall, his eyes were forced open. “I don’t know. I’m sorry. Just give me a second.”

Immediately, his reaction registered. He was having a panic attack. I’d seen it many times growing up in foster care, though I’d never had one myself.

My heart sank, and panic grew on his face. He crumpled to the ground, pulling his back up against the wall.

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay,” I said softly.

He gripped his chest and cried in pain. “I’m okay. I’m okay. I’m sorry.” He exhaled sharply, as if he were struggling to force air out of his chest. “I-I’m sorry just—just give me a second.”

The creaking door let in a flood of music, and Luke laid his head on his knees, covering his ears.

I blocked Luke from any prying eyes. “Hey, can you give us a minute?”