“Again!” commands Jax.
I fling the bag again. My heart tears past my rib cage when Jax falls out the window to grasp the bag. I stifle the scream when I notice Kaden holding on to his legs. Jax fires the bag through the window, then dangles headfirst and waves his hands. “Let’s go.”
Taking two burning cold gulps of air, I stumble backward into the darkness. The frozen ground crunches beneath my feet. I swallow, lick my lips and narrow my eyes. I can do this. I’m a champion kickboxer. If I did that, I can do this. If I could do what I did a few minutes ago...
I derail that train of thought. I don’t want to think about that now.
Or ever.
Again.
I’m not a fighter. Not anymore.
With one last deep inhalation, I run straight toward the house, kick off against the vinyl and fumble with the old trellis. I climb until my palm smacks into Jax’s. His other hand grabs on to my flailing wrist and, seconds later, both he and Kaden pull me through the window.
The moment my butt hits the floor, Jax shuts the pane and Kaden drops a blanket over me. “What happened?”
“I’m late.” Yes, I’m definitely in shock.
“Noticed.” Kaden ducks his head under the beams of the vaulted ceiling as he crosses the compact attic space. This is my room. Better yet, it’s what my life has been reduced to: a blow-up mattress among boxes of old clothes, picture frames, spiderwebs and the smell of mildew.
Kaden cracks open the attic door and stares through the one-inch space. Sounds from the television mingle with the voices of my mother and aunt. There’s a thud followed by a grunt. Probably Jax’s brothers wrestling in the room below us.
“Haley,” says Kaden. My brother and I used to be close. Like everything else in my life, I miss him. When I say nothing, he rattles the bag in his hands. “Where’s Dad’s meds?”
“In the bag.”
“No, they’re not.”
“What?”
“There’s lettuce in there and no meds.”
My lungs collapse and my fingers tug at the neckline of my shirt. “No, they’re in there. They have to be.”
“Not here.” Kaden shakes the bag again so that it crackles. “It took Mom two months to earn enough for the pills. How could you lose them? Dad needs them.”
“I know,” I snap and throw my hands over my eyes. “I know.”
I bang the back of my head against the wall. I lost Dad’s medication. My family’s only hope of getting out of this godforsaken place. That’s why the guys left. I didn’t lose the meds. They stole them. The muscles beneath my right cheek begin to pulsate. Tears burn my eyes and my chest becomes heavy. I swore I’d never fight again and I did. I swore I’d never be hit again. And I have. This is the penance for breaking that promise. God, I’m worthless.
“Go, Kaden,” says Jax. “It’s happened and can’t be undone.”
Kaden disappears down the stairs and Jax crouches next to me. My cheeks feel numb against the warmth of the house. The skin there tingles and so do my fingers. Jax grabs them and begins to rub. “We need to find you a jacket.”
“You don’t have one,” I mumble blankly and flinch when regret cuts deep. Jax’s hands pause against mine and we make fleeting eye contact.
“I’m sorry.” I broke a cardinal rule. Kaden and I never mention what Jax doesn’t have.
“It’s okay.” He massages warmth back into my fingers. “I can take frostbite. You can’t.”
I offer a weak smile. “I’m tougher than I look.”
“Yeah,” he says under his breath then releases my hands. “You are.”
“I lost the meds,” I announce as if he wasn’t part of the earlier conversation. “I lost Dad’s pills.” Why do I keep screwing up?
“You had a shit ton of errands and not enough time. You ran home and they probably fell out of the bag. It could have happened to any of us. If you’re going to live here, you’ve got to learn to let stuff go. Otherwise, you’ll go insane.”
I meet his green eyes at the word insane. What if I’m already there? What if I can’t take much more? I don’t ask those questions because I see the same ones forming in his eyes.
My cousin glances away. “We covered for you. Said you came in through the back door and came straight here.”
“Thanks. Why did he buy it?” Typically we have to present ourselves to The Dictator like soldiers in his make-believe war.
Jax scratches at the thin three-inch scar streaking across his forehead. He’s chosen a skater look today, and his hair lies flat against his head. “We told him you had an accident.”
My stomach drops. I’m not going to like this. “An accident?”
He avoids eye contact as he absently gestures with his hand. “Girl problems. Blood...in spots...on clothes.” Jax bolts up. “We’re not discussing this anymore. We covered for you. He bought it. That’s all you need to know.”
Heat finally races to my cheeks. Freaking kill me now. “Thanks.”
“No problem.” Jax looks at me again; then he’s really looking at me. Like pissed-off looking at me. “What the f**k?”
Instinctively, my fingers go to my cheek and I regret it the moment Jax’s fists clench.
“Did you get jumped?” he demands. “Is that how you lost the meds?”