Escape In You (18 page)

“The fuck, man?” Preston yells. “What do you think you’re doing?”

My chest heaving, I take in the scene in front of me. Zoe is lying on the bed, her hoodie off. She barely looks conscious. And next to her, his hand over her mouth, is my old friend.

“What am
I
doing?” I yell. “What the hell are
you
doing? Get the fuck off of her!”

He just watches me, unconcerned. “Give me a break. She’s fine. We just came in here to talk and get comfortable.”

“Get your hand off her,” I demand, my voice low.

Preston does, but he doesn't get up. Zoe appears in no condition to move on her own. I’ve seen her hammered before, but never like this. She just lies there, looking up at me, looking scared and dazed. I go to her, and grab her by the arms. “Come on, Zoe. Let’s go.”

“I didn't do anything, Jet,” Preston says. He’s still spread out on the bed. “She was having a good time.”

I push Zoe aside, much more roughly than I had intended. She stumbles and falls into his dresser. I grab Preston by his shirt and pull him up so that his face is nearly level with mine. “She was screaming, you dick,” I say. “I heard her.”

He pushes me off, and jumps to his feet. “Chill out, man. What’s the big deal? Are you seriously getting all bent out of shape over some drunk slut? You said yourself it was just fun with you guys.” He looks over at where Zoe is crouched next to his dresser, looking like she might pass out any minute. He sneers. “She’s nothing.”

Rage courses through me, stronger than I’ve ever felt before, and suddenly I’m punching every inch of him I can get my hands on. It’s never been this bad before, the blacked-out rage, not even the fight that had led to my arrest. When I had almost killed that guy.

Vaguely I become aware of his curses, of Zoe screaming, of other raised voices in the room. “Enough, man!” someone yells, strong hands pulling me back. I continue to swing, oblivious to everything except my desire to destroy Preston.

“Enough!” I recognize this voice, and finally still. Fred is wrestling me away from Preston. As the room comes back into focus, I realize other guys are holding Preston back as well. His face is beet red, angrier than I have ever seen him. His lip is bleeding, and a cut above his eye adds to the mess. His nose is bleeding the most though, and I wonder if I broke it.

“Get him out of here,” one of the guys holding Preston shouts, and Fred pulls me toward the door.

“Zoe!” I yell, fighting his grasp. “Where’s Zoe?”

“Everett has her,” Fred says. “She’s right in the hall. If you’d stop fighting me and let me get you out of here you’d see her.”

I go limp, and he steers me through the growing crowd of gawkers. And there’s Zoe, huddled against the wall, still looking like she might pass out, Everett holding her up.

“Shit,” I say and push him away so I can grab her around the shoulders. “We need to get her out of here.”

With Everett’s help, I manage to get Zoe down the stairs and into the foyer. Most of the crowd is silently watching us. I feel a fresh surge of rage, thinking of the gossip I know will be swirling around as soon as we leave. “Someone needs to find Hunter,” I say to Everett, and maneuver Zoe toward the door. Sometime during the trip down the stairs, she had turned her face into my chest and wrapped her arms around me, shielding herself from the whispers. I tuck her more completely under my arms.

“I’ll find him,” he says. “Meet you outside.”

The fresh air hits me like another punch to the gut. Away from the crowd and noise inside, I suddenly become aware of all the places Preston had landed punches. Looking down, I see blood in Zoe’s hair and wonder what my face looks like.

Zoe whimpers. I pull her down to the grass, lifting her face so I can see her better. “You okay, baby?” I whisper.

“What…what happened? Preston was…he…?”

“Shh,” I whisper, rubbing her arms. She’s trembling. “I’m gonna get you home.”

She shakes her head. “No. Please. Not there.”

We’re interrupted by Hunter, Everett, and Fred bursting from the front door. “Zoe?” Hunter calls, rushing toward us. “Oh, God.” He sinks to his knees in front of us, looking into her eyes. “Oh, God, Zoe, I’m so sorry. I should have been—”

“Let’s just get her out of here,” I say. “Zoe, do you think you can stand up?” She nods against my chest, and I help her to her feet. She’s still unsteady. “You can drive?” I ask Hunter.

He nods, his eyes big. “I’m DD tonight.”

I pull my keys out of my back pocket and throw them toward him. “We’ll take my car.” I lead them down the lawn to my Challenger, practically carrying Zoe. She’s limp in my arms, and, for the first time, I start to worry, not about what Preston had nearly done, but about how much she’s had to drink. “Talk to me, baby,” I say. “Let me know you’re okay.”

“I’m fine,” she says, her voice still slurred. “I just want to go.”

I put Zoe into the back with me and Fred, letting Everett sit next to Hunter in the front. As Hunter glances at us in the rearview mirror, I hear him mutter, “Ellie is going to kill us.”

“Just drop us off at my place,” I say. “I’ll meet up with you tomorrow to get the car.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Fred says next to Zoe, his voice steady and calm. I take a deep breath, trying to let that calm wash over me, strengthen me.

Hunter pulls out onto the dark, deserted street. “Zoe?” he finally asks, his voice quiet. “You okay, babe?”

“I’m fine, Hunt,” she murmurs. “Nothing happened.”

I suppress a shudder at Hunter’s sigh of relief, thinking of how close she’d been to not okay. If I hadn’t gone upstairs…

“You’re shaking,” Zoe murmurs.

My vision is starting to tinge red. I try to calm down. The last thing Zoe needs is for me to lose it again.

Hunter pulls up in front of my house. The windows are dark. I hope my mom is sleeping—not that she’d come up to my apartment anyhow. She hasn’t set foot in the place since I moved up there.

“Thanks, Hunter,” I say as Everett gets out to pull the passenger seat forward.

Hunter gives me a worried look. “Have her call me as soon as she gets up, okay? I don’t know what I’m going to tell Ellie.”

“Just tell her she’s fine. I’ll take care of her.”

I climb out from the back seat, pulling Zoe with me. She’s limp in my arms.

“Sorry, man,” Everett says as I stand. “I should have…I shouldn’t have let her go with him…”

“It wasn’t your fault,” I say, gruffly. “I’ve got her.”

“Can everyone please stop talking about me like I’m not here?” Zoe mutters, as she pulls away from me slightly.

Everett laughs and taps her on the nose. “Get some rest. See you soon, okay?”

She nods, and he climbs back into the car.

“Come on,” I say, wrapping my arm more tightly around her shoulder. I pull her around the garage to my door. “Shit. Hunter has my keys.” I reach up to the top of door frame, feeling around until my fingers hit the spare key. I’d locked myself out in drunken stupors enough times to decide I needed to hide a key outside. The first time I’d had to go into the main house, drunk, to find the extra set had been the last. My mother hadn’t much appreciated finding me trashed in her kitchen at three in the morning.

“Here we go,” I say as I open the door. “Just up the stairs and we can lie down, okay?”

It’s harder to get her up the stairs than it had been to get her down the ones back at the party. My adrenaline is waning, and her body feels leaden. When we finally reach the top, I blow out a relieved breath.

“Do you want food?” I ask. “Coffee?”

“Sleep,” she says. “I just want sleep.” So I pull her to the bedroom and sit her on the edge of the bed so I can remove her shoes. “I left my hoodie,” she mumbles, and for a second I’m afraid that she might cry. But then her face relaxes back into that slightly dazed expression. “Come on,” I say. “Just lie back.”

After removing my boots, I climb into bed next to her, and pull the blanket up around us. We lie on our sides, her back to my chest, my arms wrapped firmly around her. Within minutes her breathing has changed, evened out, and I know she’s asleep. I breathe a sigh of relief, glad she can escape to dreams for a while, forget the terrible night.

I’m sure I won't be able to sleep, sure the anger I feel raging through me toward Preston will keep me up. Instead, a wave of relief crashes over me as I lie there listening to her breathe. She’s safe. He hadn’t been able to hurt her. I’m terrified of what might have happened had I not been there. But I was, and I’m going to make damned sure I will be there the next time, too. All the time, if she’ll let me.

Chapter Sixteen

Zoe

I wake up in Taylor’s bed, confused as to how I got there. I don't remember coming in the night before. He’s curled up behind my back, his arms tight around me. I wriggle away from his grip, though he moans softly as I do so. I climb from the bed, looking down at his face. He’s frowning slightly in his sleep.

I need coffee, bad. My head is pounding, my tongue horribly swollen and cottony. I make my way slowly to the kitchenette and fumble with his coffee maker, pouring myself a glass of water to drink while I wait. I bring my water to the breakfast bar and perch on one of his bistro chairs.

It isn’t like me to forget so much of a night, even after heavy drinking. Sure, I’ve woken up plenty of mornings without knowing exactly how I’d gotten home, but today I can't remember
anything
from the party. I know I showed up with Taylor and we separated fairly early. I drank vodka with Mary. I scrunch up my face. Had I talked to Grace? That’s weird, why would she have been there? I remember that Everett joined me eventually and we finished the bottle. Then we went upstairs in search of a full one, right? But I hadn’t made it to the kitchen. What had happened?

It comes back to me in a flash. Feeling dizzy at the top of the stairs. Preston walking by and laughing at how drunk I was. He’d offered me a place to lie down, said he’d go find Taylor for me. But he hadn’t.

“Zoe?”

I spin around to see Taylor standing in the doorway to his bedroom, rubbing his face. “I woke up and you were gone.”

He had found me. Preston was holding me down on the bed, covering my mouth, taking off my hoodie, kissing my neck and telling me to relax. I’d been too drunk and weak to stop any of it. But Taylor had found me.

“I’m going to be sick,” I say, tripping as I try to get down from the chair. He’s next to me in a flash, helping me to the bathroom. I collapse in front of the toilet just in time. Taylor holds my hair back, rubs my shoulders as I’m sick. It feels like my body is trying to expel every last bit of the horrible night. When I’m finally finished, I lean back into him, shaking and crying.

“You’re okay,” he says, his deep voice rumbling through his chest. He shifts me gently so he can flush the toilet and grab a tissue to wipe my face. “I’m here, Zoe. You’re okay.”

“Preston,” I say, and his arms go taut.

“I know,” he says, his voice almost a growl. “I’m so sorry.”

“Nothing happened, right? I don’t remember anything happening.”

“Nothing,” he says firmly.

“Because you found me.”

His arms are trembling now. “I shouldn’t have had to look. I should never have let you out of my sight. It was all my fault, Zoe.”

“No,” I say, trying to turn to face him in the vise of his grip. “No, it wasn’t, Taylor. Don’t say that.”

He just shakes his head, and tucks my hair behind my ear. “Think you can stand up? That coffee is probably ready.”

The thought of coffee is so wonderful I actually grin. Taylor gives me a fleeting smile and pulls me to my feet. “I thought coffee might do the trick.”

He helps me to the bistro chair and then busies himself filling our mugs. He adds one sugar to mine without asking, and, despite how terrible I feel, the fact that he knows how I take my coffee still sends a warm rush through me.

He brings the mugs to the counter and sits next to me. “Drink that,” he says. “It’ll help.”

I take a gulp of the scalding liquid, letting it burn my tongue and throat and take away the horrible cotton-mouth I’d woken up with. I wish it was as easy to remove the memories of the night before.

Taylor watches my face closely, as if trying to read how I’m dealing with everything.

I turn to him, and remember for the first time what he’d looked like last night. “Shit, Taylor. You were bleeding.” I reach a finger up to a cut above his eye. It had closed up in the night, blood crusting along his brow. He shrugged off my touch. “Did Preston do that?”

“I did much worse to him,” he says, his voice low and dangerous. He brings his mug to his lips.

“Shit.” I stare at his knuckles. They’re cut open, blood crusted across his hands.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, shaking his head. “It was worth it, I promise you.”

I have a flash of cowering by the dresser, watching as he pummels Preston’s face over and over. He’d been out of control, almost like he was unaware of what he was doing. It had taken Fred pulling him off and calling his name four or five times before he finally stopped.

I meet his eyes, knowing mine are wide.

“You’re scared,” he whispers. “I can see it in your eyes. You’re remembering how I was.”

He looks so broken, so horrified that I might be afraid of him. I can't stand to see his face like that, so I do the only thing that makes sense to me—I lean forward and kiss him.

It takes him a moment before he responds, and I figure I must have surprised him. But then he’s kissing me back, pulling me from my stool and into his lap. His mouth is rough on mine, but his hands are gentle, cradling my head, brushing my hair back, running lightly along my face.

“Taylor,” I say, my voice breathy.

“If something had happened to you,” he says, and there’s real pain in his voice. “I don’t know what I would do. When I saw him…I wanted to kill him, Zoe, I swear to God. I would have, if Fred hadn’t shown up.”

I do feel a flash of fear then. He’s completely serious. But the fear can't compete with everything else I feel for this man. “I’m not afraid of you,” I whisper fiercely, pulling back to clasp his face between my hands. I stare into his eyes. “I am grateful though. Grateful that you found me. Grateful that you beat the shit out of that asshole.” I kiss him once more, gently this time. “Thank you, Taylor.” I kiss the broken skin above his eyes. “Thank you.” I bring his fist to my mouth, kiss his wounded knuckles. “Thank you.”