Oh, hell no.
I had to stand by and watch as Fox Hill police officers arrested my mother. I had to let them go through her things, rifle through her life, take her car. I’ve visited her in prison, and I’m still trying to make peace with the fact that I couldn’t stop any of this from happening.
But I haven’t had to deal with someone screaming that she’s a murderer until this exact moment, and it snaps something inside me.
It happens so fast the rational part of my brain gets completely left behind.
My mother is the sweetest, gentlest, most optimistic person I’ve ever known, and if you call her a murderer, you better go ahead and call me one too, because I’ll fucking kill you.
That half-formed thought is the only thing that penetrates my brain as I charge toward Savannah.
My backpack is gone, abandoned on the floor behind me, and I honestly don’t know what I’m going to do when I reach her, but I sure as hell hope it involves my fingernails and her eyes.
True fear flashes in her eyes—we already got in a fight once, and it didn’t end all that well for her—but before I can lay a hand on her, strong arms band around my waist, lifting me off the ground like I weigh nothing.
Dax.
His sweet clove scent surrounds me like a blanket as he drags me away from the redheaded cheerleader, and motherfucker, why does he keep doing this to me?
“Let me go! Let me—fucking—go!”
I struggle in his grip, shoving at his thick forearms, not even caring that I probably look psychotic, not caring that I’m making it look like Savannah is right. That my mom and I are both crazy and violent.
He doesn’t let go though, and I can’t break free of his hold. He pulls me farther away as Lincoln, River, and Chase step up to Savannah, speaking to her in voices too low for me to hear. Their faces are all tight with anger, and I can see tension bunching Linc’s shoulders.
But it’s not enough. She doesn’t need to be talked to. She needs to be punched in her big fucking mouth.
“Goddammit!” I hiss at Dax, renewing my struggles. “Let me go, you asshole!”
Dax loosens his grip, setting me back on my feet, but when I make a move to sprint toward Savannah, he bear hugs me again, pressing my back to his firm chest.
“Don’t do it, Low,” he murmurs. “It’s not fucking worth it. You’re on thin ice already with all your absences. Come on. Do you think your mom wants this?”
That’s not fair.
That’s so not fair.
He’s playing dirty, and I’m sure he’s doing it because he knows it’ll work.
Of course my mom wouldn’t want me to get in trouble. And I can’t give her anything else to worry about right now.
I deflate in his arms, slumping back against him as I suck in ragged breaths through my nose—but I’ve stopped trying to bum-rush Savannah.
Mrs. Morrison steps out of a classroom a little ways down the hall, her already stern face looking even more pinched and annoyed than usual. “What’s going on out here?”
“Nothing,” Lincoln says smoothly, and my stomach flips at his words.
Didn’t we just do this?
For a second, I feel like I’m living in some kind of freakish nightmare where a single moment of my life repeats over and over.
This is just like the night the cops took my mom away.
Dax’s arms around me, holding me back. Lincoln’s even, measured voice promising he doesn’t know anything. Serious expressions on all the guys’ faces.
It’s all the fucking same.
I shove down hard against the copper-haired boy’s arms, and he releases his grip as Mrs. Morrison casts her gaze around the hall. She obviously doesn’t quite believe Lincoln’s words, but she also doesn’t seem that interested in trying to sort out what she missed.