“I'm going to fucking kill him,” I growl.
I press Amelia's phone back into her hand and step away from her. Every part of me is fully prepared to go after him. After all, the deal was as long as I did everything he asked for, she would go unharmed. He broke his word, so I have no obligation to keep mine.
“Don't,” she pleads, reaching out and grabbing my wrist. “Stay with me. Please?”
It could be the look in her eyes, or the desperation in her tone, but no part of me can deny her. Not when I know how much she needs me right now. So, despite my urge to go find him and beat him into a coma, I put that anger aside for later and make a mental note to deal with it at another time, because he's not getting away with this. Not if I have anything to say about it.
The two of us stand there in silence as Amelia rests her head on my collarbone. It isn't until she breaks it that I realize there's one part of this she isn't going to leave alone.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Mm-hm,” I answer.
She pulls back and looks up at me. “If Blade is a drug dealer, why do you hang around him?”
How can I even answer that? It's the same question she asked when I warned her to stay away from him, except worse, because now she knows what he's into and what kind of person he is. I release her and take a step away, leaning against the counter across from her.
“It's complicated, Meelz.”
Her brows furrow. “Complicated? How complicated can it be?”
I stretch my neck to try to ease some tension, but it doesn't help. “There are things you don't know. Things I can't tell you.”
She scoffs. “More secrets? Really? I thought we were past that.”
“Amelia, please,” I beg. “It's not my secret to tell.”
“Then whose is it?”
It's obvious she's not going to drop this until she gets the answers she's looking for. The only options I have are to reveal Easton's secret or make myself look like a monster. I'm fully prepared to choose the latter, but Easton himself interrupts me.
“Mine,” he says, walking into the room.
“E.”
He shakes his head. “You've done enough to protect me, Z.”
I watch as Amelia looks at her brother, with the same hero worship she's always had for him, but this time she's obviously scared. He pats my shoulder as he walks past me and sits on the island next to Amelia, and I excuse myself to let them talk.
“I'll be in my room if you need me.”
I stare at Easton, not understanding anything at the moment. He smiles sadly at me and looks down at his hands. It takes him a minute before he starts talking, and every second that passes is excruciating.
“Easton?”
He sighs. “I never meant for it to get as bad as it did, Mila.”
The nickname strikes a nerve. He hasn't called me that since we were kids. When I was born, he couldn't say Amelia right, so he called me Mila. It was always my favorite, a thing just between the two of us, but it faded as we got older until he just never used it. Hearing it now, though, shows that he feels the need to have that connection.
“For what to get bad?” I ask.
His hands start to sweat, and he wipes it on his jeans. “At first, it was just supposed to be something to take my mind off things. Between the break-up with Tessa and the pressures of college, it gave me some peace of mind.”
Oh my God, he's talking about drugs.
“It started when I was at UCLA. A few guys were taking some pills, and they offered me some,” he admits. “At first I turned them down, but after the third or fourth time, I finally figured 'what the hell' and did it.”
“E,” I breathe, but he shakes his head.