Johnny roars, upheaving the table in front of the couch. It slams to the floor as he yells, “Everything is so fucked.”
He’s not wrong, and I don’t have anything to say that will tell him any different because it does seem as if we’re backed into a corner here. Brawler and I have to fight. There’s no getting out of it. That damage is already done.
So is Brawler’s fate with the Crew.
“We’ll figure it out,” I tell him. It sounds lame as fuck, but it’s all the positive talk I have.
“You’re all willing to help Kyla?” Johnny asks, glaring around the room, begging them to say otherwise. Whatever he had to endure in his father’s suite, he looks as if he’s ready to retaliate on someone else.
He won’t find a fight here. Magnum, Oscar, and Brawler nod.
“Above yourselves? Above your own well-being?”
I bite my lip as they all nod again. The unity in the room makes the space feel smaller as if we all really might be able to help each other. As a team, like I’m hoping for.
“I’m not some fainting, prissy girl,” I say, speaking up. “I can help myself, too.”
Magnum shoots me a warning look, but I don’t need anyone fighting my battles for me. Truly.
“I’d help any one of you, too,” I say, looking around the room, making sure they see the truth in my eyes.
They ignore me, but Oscar steps up to Johnny. “The same better apply to you.”
“I will not let anything happen to her.”
“Your dad—” Mag starts.
Johnny cuts him off. “I know. I’ve seen the look before.”
“You have to toe the line, man. Kyla doesn’t think when she worries about you, and vice versa. Don’t let him get to you. That’s what he wants. He wants you to force his hand.”
“He won’t touch her. I can promise you that.”
I don’t think anyone believes him. I certainly don’t. There’s no way Johnny can promise us that because his father is a loose cannon. He does what he wants when he wants. That’s how he got to the top of the Heights Crew. Ruthless, unforgiving tyranny.
“Let’s sit and discuss things,” Mag says. “We need to be smart about this. Together, I think we can come up with a good plan.”
I’m glad Mag is taking point on this. It’s a natural solution because Johnny respects him, and he’s the one Johnny knows the most.
They share a silent communication, but whatever Mag was trying to communicate doesn’t go over as well as he’d hoped.
Johnny strides over, taking my hand. He squeezes me, then leads me from the room. I go with him instead of pushing it. Johnny needs time. The only person he’s ever trusted in this world beats him and killed his mother. His hesitation is more than understood.
He leads me across the hall, stopping briefly to unlock my apartment door with his own key. When we get into my place, he drops my arm and starts to pace.
I watch him for a little while. His mind is working to fix all of this on his own. He can pull that with the others, but not with me. I walk in front of him, stopping him. He’s so preoccupied he almost rams right into me, stopping himself at the last possible moment.
“Are you okay?” I ask. “I know he hit you again, Johnny. I heard it.”
Johnny pulls his shirt up, looking down at the same time as he reveals every inch of a red splotch over his abs. “He punched me. Not in the face this time. I think he realized how nervous it made everyone to see me like that, so he did it some place no one could see.”
My fingers trail over the mark lightly, and he shies away. “We should get you some ice.”
“Ice isn’t going to fix this, babe.”
“One problem at a time,” I tell him. I retreat to the freezer, grabbing out an actual ice pack I asked housekeeping to deliver before the night of the accident. For as much as we need it, we should buy stock in these damn things. Maybe we’d get a free lifetime supply.
I pull his hand and make him sit on the couch with me. “Shirt off,” I tell him.
He grins at me. “You always want to get me shirtless.”
“Stop being so hot, and I wouldn’t have that problem.”
Heat burns behind his eyes as he slowly shucks his shirt off, tossing it on the arm of the couch.