“We’re going to start calling you Goldilocks,” I warn. We’re all blond, and some of us are more blond than others.
“Try it, asswipe,” he jokes as he punches my shoulder. “It’s been a long time since we’ve had a good match.”
Emily wraps her arm around my forearm and squeezes. “I think you’re bigger than when you went in,” she says.
“Not much else to do but work out and read.” I shrug.
“I can still take you,” Logan says. He flexes his muscles. It’s so good to hear him speak.
Logan was injured in a car accident right after I went to jail, and he almost died. I wanted to go to him so badly. But they wouldn’t let me out. “I heard you’re an old man with a limp now.” I duck when he tries to grab my head for a noogie, and I dance away from him.
“Nothing about me is limp,” he says with a chuckle. “Right, Emily?” he says, grinning. She punches him in the arm. He bends at the waist and tosses her over his shoulder. She squeals and beats on his butt, but he pays her no mind. He never does when they do this. He starts toward the subway so we can go home. The rest of us follow.
Emily gives up and dangles there over Logan’s shoulder. She’s right by my face, so I lean in and kiss her on the cheek. “You all right?” she asks quietly. It’s f**king ridiculous the way she’s just bobbing there.
“It’s good to be going home,” I admit. “Strange, but good.”
She wraps her hands around her mouth and whispers dramatically. “We have beer at the apartment! For your birthday!”
I grin. I spent my twenty-first birthday behind bars. But I had a feeling they wouldn’t let it pass by without some kind of celebration. “Just beer?” I whisper back playfully.
She winks. “There might be some other stuff, too. Like wine.”
My brothers don’t do anything more than drink occasionally. “Is there cake?” I ask.
She nods. “Sam made it.” Sam’s the baker in the family. It’s too bad he had to play football to earn his way into college because he’d make a damn fine baker. And he’d be happier doing it.
“So he was home this weekend?” Hearing that he was home this weekend but he’s not there now is like a knife to my gut. It f**king hurts. I can’t say I blame him, though.
She nods, and she does that thing she does where she doesn’t look me in the face. She’d be terrible at poker because she can’t lie worth shit.
“How long do you think he’ll avoid me?” I ask.
Matt looks over at me, his face searching mine, but he doesn’t answer my question either.
Reagan
I sit in my dad’s truck and drum my thumb on the steering wheel along with the music. I dropped Dad off an hour ago, and he sent me on an errand because he hates the idea of me sitting outside a prison by myself. I finished his errand, and now I’m waiting. He can’t fault me for that, can he?
I freeze when I see three tatted-up men walk by where I’m parked. They’re blond and huge. But one of them is holding hands with a girl, a pretty lady with dirty-blond hair. I sit up taller and watch them. They’re friendly with one another, and you can almost see how happy they are to be together. The one holding hands with the girl slaps her on the bottom and runs from her, and she streaks off after him until she can jump on his back. She leans forward and kisses him on the cheek. He puts her down because she’s signing something to him. My heartbeat stutters. This is the family. I’m almost certain of it. They’re Peter Reed’s brothers.
Peter Reed is someone I have wanted to meet for two and a half years. He saved me one night when I really needed saving. He found me huddled in a room in the back of a frat house after the unthinkable happened.
I’m huddled by the wall, still shaking from what happened. He turned out the light when he left, so I sit in the dark with my teeth chattering so hard that my jaw hurts. My panties are still wrapped around my ankle, dangling there like the useless piece of cloth they are. One side is broken from where he ripped them off me, but I can’t make my arms unwrap from around myself long enough to pull them up. Or off. My skirt is hiked up around my waist. He didn’t bother to even pull it down when he was done. He just whispered in my ear about how no one would ever believe me if I told and how I better keep it to myself if I knew what was good for me.
My phone dings beside me, its bright face a beacon in the darkness, and I look down at it. I want to pick it up. It’s probably one of my friends wondering where I’ve gone off to. But I can’t unwrap my arms long enough to reach for it, either. If I unwrap, I’ll fall apart. I can’t fall apart. I just can’t.
The door opens, and a sliver of light tumbles into the room. A young man laughs at someone as he closes the door in a girl’s face. He flips the light on and leans back against the door, cursing playfully. I crawl on my hands toward the shadow in the corner. Maybe he won’t see me. But he does. I can tell when he freezes and curses for real.
My teeth are still chattering, and I can’t draw in a complete breath. He drops down to squat in front of me. “Hey, are you all right?” he asks. He reaches a hand toward me. An animalistic sound leaves my throat. It’s one that scares even me, and he jerks his hand back like I’m a rabid dog and he’s afraid I’ll bite. The guy who just left, he wasn’t afraid of me at all. After a few minutes of really nice kissing, I was ready to stop, but he pushed me down, tore off my panties, held me still, and raped me.