Another muffled sound echoes through the air.
I draw a breath, and a familiar wave of ice rolls down my back, holding me like a vise.
Think of River. He’s hurting her.
My body breaks free of its invisible shackles, and I rush toward the sounds to find Blake holding River against the side of the house with one hand over her mouth. The other hand is grabbing her breast.
“Get off her!” I yell, barreling into the guy and knocking him to the dirt.
River gets free and starts yelling for help.
Meanwhile, Blake gets to his feet, fists balled tight. I know he’s about to kick the shit out of me. The guy probably outweighs me by a hundred pounds.
Blake charges, hitting me in the chest with his shoulder like he’s mowing down an opponent on the field. I fly back, landing on my ass. In an instant, he’s straddling me, his fist pulling back.
“Blake! Leave him alone.” River rushes in, clawing at his arm, but he’s twice her size.
I close my eyes as the sledgehammer attached to his wrist pounds into my face once, twice, three times.
The pain is instant and excruciating, way worse than I imagined—like my face is being tenderized by a tractor, each punch tearing into skin and smashing muscle.
Different voices, both male and female, fill the air. The guys are trying to pull Blake away. River is frantically telling her sisters that Blake attacked her.
“Dude, dude! You’re drunk. Get off him,” one guy says.
I open my eyes to see two of Blake’s friends pushing him back.
“I’ll fucking kill you, man.” Blake points at me, trying to fight his way to me.
Meanwhile, blood gushes from my nose.
“The cops are on their way, Blake,” one of the girls screams. “Just leave!”
“You asshole!” says another one of River’s sisters, who’s holding River in a hug. “You’re going to jail!”
“Come on, man. You’ll get kicked off the team if they arrest you. You gotta go.” Blake’s friends drag him away.
“Oh, he’s getting arrested!” River yells, losing her shit as Blake and the other guys disappear around the front of the house. “I’m filing charges, and so is Huff.” River points to me, finally realizing I’m still on the ground, seeing stars. And moons. And red. “Jesus, Huff. Are you okay?” She rushes over and crouches next to me.
“You were right. Your friends are great,” I say. “Super nice.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
After the police show, the party dies like a burned-out match. Upon the insistence of the paramedics, who also show up, I’m taken to the ER to have my face checked out. I have a bad cut on my cheek where Blake’s fist made contact. Apparently, the guy wears a large ring. Dick. I also have another fun cut on my cheek. But hey, at least my nose isn’t broken.
And the pain is worth it. I stood up for River, something I should’ve done five years ago for Joy—a moment I’ll regret as long as I live.
An hour and a half later I’m still sitting on a gurney in the ER, waiting to be discharged, when my phone rings. It’s River.
“I’m outside in my car. Where are you at?” she asks.
“Almost done. They need me to sign some stuff. Did they arrest Blake the Rake?”
“No. He ran off—probably passed out on a friend’s couch’r something. But don’t worry, by morning word’ll get out, and he won’t be able to hide. Don’t forget, you have to come with me to the station to file a complaint, or the police won’t do shit. Blake’s brother is the sheriff and—”
“Sheriff? Oh, great. I can already imagine how this’ll play out.”
“I hear he’s a strict, by-the-book kind of guy, but even if he weren’t, he can’t sweep this under the rug if we make formal complaints.”
“Okay.” I’m too tired to argue with her. All I want now is to get some ice and go to bed. The topical numbing medicine is going to wear off soon, and I’m not going to feel so great.
“Huff?”
“Yeah?”
There’s a long pause. “Thank you,” she finally says with a crackle in her sweet voice.
River doesn’t need to thank me. She just needs to stay away from pieces of shit like Blake. “I don’t know what I’d do if I let something happen to you.” I lift my head and stare up at the tiles on the ceiling next to the fluorescent light. I don’t like getting emotional. So I won’t.
“Well, your face would be in better shape. How many stitches?” she asks.
“Stopped counting after five.”
“Ohmygod. I’m so sorry. This is all my fault.”
“Hell no. Blake is the asshole. Not you.” The nurse walks in with my wound care instructions. “I have to go. See you outside in a minute.”
“Okay. Bye.”
I end the call, and the nurse starts talking about caring for my stitches. Meanwhile, my mind starts going crazy. Tomorrow, after we file formal charges, the police are going to arrest Blake, the sheriff’s brother, for assaulting River and me. It’s going to be a scandal, and he’ll likely be expelled. Definitely kicked off the football team. His friends aren’t going to be happy that we’re “the cause” of their buddy getting in trouble. Of course, they won’t care that Blake assaulted River. They won’t care I was protecting her.