Hangovers and Holidays - Heather Long Page 0,6

These are all important steps. I know it’s a lot to ask for your patience, but we do need it right now.”

“And if he shows up again?” Because he’d done it once. Twice if you counted Homecoming. At this point, I never wanted to go to a party again. So far, they’d all sucked.

“We’re going to work on that so he doesn’t.”

I sighed.

Movement beyond him had me shifting my weight. Archie was on his way straight toward me with Mr. Wittaker. Where was Coop?

“My lawyer is here.”

“He is?” Talbot turned as Archie and Mr. Wittaker got there. Mr. Wittaker didn’t waste any time introducing himself, shaking Talbot’s hand, and drawing him away from me and Rachel.

Rachel let me go when Archie wrapped his arms around me. “You okay, babe?”

“No,” I said. “I’m really fucking mad.”

He grinned a little. “That’s my girl. Hold onto that, ‘cause it’s going to be a long night.”

That was what I was afraid of. “Did Coop get arrested too?”

“Detained. They’re taking him to the precinct, too. There was blood on his clothes.”

Rachel snorted. “Of course there was blood on his clothes. Did they not see the carnage out here?” Thankfully, she didn’t shout the words, but Archie just shook his head.

“It’s procedure. They probably won’t be charged. All of it is self-defense. They’re also going to have to get Bubba looked at. He had a lot of guys whaling on him.”

My stomach bottomed out. Jake wasn’t eighteen. They were probably going to call his mom. He’d gotten hauled down to the precinct a month ago. “We need to go get them.”

“We’re going to,” Archie said. “I’ve got Jake’s keys, so we’re going to take his car. Mr. Wittaker is going to meet us there as soon as he takes care of the detective.”

“I’m going to go get Skylar and take her home,” Rachel said. “Then I’ll meet you guys at the police station.”

“Rach…”

“I want to,” she told me. “Besides…you know the after party is always more fun than the party itself.”

I snorted, then pulled away from Archie to give Rachel a hug. “You’re a badass.”

“Yes, I am,” she agreed, squeezing me gently, but she didn’t miss my wince. “And you need to get looked at, too.”

Suddenly, Archie was in my space. “Did they hurt you?”

“Bruises.” But I didn’t really get to object as he hauled me toward the paramedics. I glared at Rachel, and she blew me a kiss.

Every once in a while, I remembered why we’d had a love-hate relationship for so long. I just stuck my tongue out at her before I flipped her off, and she finger-waved as she strolled back toward the house where Corey Kaplan was getting reamed out by his parents.

Yeah, this hadn’t been a good night for anyone.

The paramedics made me go to the hospital. I wanted to kill Archie. I didn’t want to go get x-rays, I wanted to check on the guys. But he was unmovable. I swore we had our first real relationship fight. Only we would save the argument for later, since I wasn’t speaking to him right now.

Or at least I hadn’t been, right up until he told me that Mr. Wittaker was going to the police station immediately. While we waited for a doctor to look at me, Archie took my left hand in his and examined the knuckles. I was already in a stupid hospital gown. No one even batted an eyelash about the Scarecrow bringing Dorothy into the E.R.

If anything, we were right at home with the other monsters, ghouls, and vampires. The guy who had to get a glass bottle removed from his rectum, however, was now permanently etched into my brain. Who did that?

“I’m sorry,” Archie said quietly, and I frowned at him.

“You didn’t do anything wrong.” So much for a fight. “I know why you said we had to come here first.” But I didn’t think my ribs were cracked, even if my chest and back hurt. Archie said there were red scrapes along my back when he’d helped me out of the dress and into the gown. His voice had been clipped and angry.

Probably because I’d just gotten rid of some of my bruises and now I had new ones. Yay.

“Not for that,” he told me, almost patient as he gave me a long look. “I’m sorry that the party went to hell. We took you out to have fun.”

“That wasn’t your fault either.” They weren’t responsible for Mitch.

“Still…”

“Archie, it wasn’t your fault, or Ian’s or Jake’s

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