He never touched him.
Fynn and Grayson stepped in. They slammed Carter to the ground. One of them kicked my stepbrother in the ribs, the other looming over him to make sure he didn’t get back up. “Stay down,” Grayson ordered.
All I could do was stand there, stunned, with my legs shaking hard enough that if it hadn’t been for Micah, I’d been a mess on the ground.
Brock turned to me, eyes so dark. “Get out of here. Now,” he growled.
I didn’t know how I found my voice, but it was weak as I asked, “What are you going to do?”
His entire body tensed, and his voice was strained as he said, “Don’t worry about it.”
“It’s best you don’t know,” Micah added, steering me away and toward my friends. He kept an arm around my waist, supporting me.
I wanted to argue, wanted to ask what they were going to do to him—not that I cared. I shouldn’t give a fuck what they did to Carter. It would be no more than he deserved, as long as they didn’t kill him. It was on the tip of my tongue to tell Brock not to kill him, but Mads put a hand on my arm.
“Let’s go, Josie,” she said gently.
Micah handed me off to my two best friends, and I let them pull me away.
Chapter Thirteen
“Are you okay?” Mads asked as soon as we were inside her car. She hit the start button, turning on the heat.
The shaking wouldn’t stop. “I think so,” I replied, my teeth clanging together.
Ainsley clicked her seat belt in place in the back seat as Mads hit the gas, guiding the car into the line leaving the lot. “Ohmygod. I can’t believe that happened,” she gasped, her voice breathless.
Me neither.
I didn’t want to look over my shoulder, didn’t want to see what Brock and the others were doing, but my eyes seemed to have a mind of their own. It was too dark to see anything other than the shadow of five guys.
“You’re staying with me tonight,” Mads declared, glancing at me. “There is no way I am leaving you alone in that house with that psycho.”
That sounded like exactly what I needed. I couldn’t be in that house with him. Not now. Not ever. “Thanks,” I chattered, arms wrapping around myself.
“That was seriously messed up, Josie. What are you going to do?” Ainsley asked.
“I don’t know,” I muttered, staring out the window.
Ainsley touched my shoulder lightly. “You have to tell your mom.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, but deep down, I knew it would be pointless. Perhaps it was time I phoned Dad. I didn’t know what else to do.
* * *
I spent the weekend with Mads, sending a text to my mom, letting her know where I was. Not that she truly cared. Ainsley stayed Friday, but had to leave early in the morning to get to work. A girls’ night was just what I’d needed. I didn’t know how I would have made it through the night without them.
Mads’s parents were amazing and normal for Elmwood high society. On Saturday morning, her dad made blueberry pancakes. Her dad, not the cook. I didn’t know what she told her parents, if anything, and I didn’t ask. Truthfully, I wanted to forget last night ever happened, but that was going to take some time, or so I found out in the shower. Every time I closed my eyes, Carter was there. The shower did little to erase the stain he’d left behind. It wasn’t the bruising, but the memories that haunted me.
Mads let me borrow some clothes, nothing fancy, just comfy shorts and a T-shirt. I padded down the stairs in search of my friend and heard the voices. Male voices. I paused on the stairs, listening. Yes, it was totally wrong to eavesdrop, but that wasn’t what I was doing. I was trying to figure out who was here and if it was safe for me to go downstairs.
“How is she?” a gruff voice asked, and I sucked in a breath. That was Brock.
“Okay, considering,” Mads replied as I descended the remaining stairs.
I turned the corner into the kitchen, immediately locating Brock. He was leaning against the island next to Grayson, who shoveled leftover pancakes into his mouth.
Brock’s eyes lifted to mine. He didn’t smile. His expression remained the same, a mask of indifference as if I was no one, and yet, he was standing in Mads’s kitchen asking about me.