Rage expanded in my chest, lacing itself with the oxygen I inhaled, momentarily blinding me. I struggled to focus my vision. I stared into the backs of the Prescott brothers and counted down from ten, allowing myself a moment to hide behind them as I processed in silence.
Calm down, Em. Don’t say a thing. Let her think she’s winning. Dad has this handled.
People assume strength is loud. In reality, strength is silent. It is resilience, the will to never surrender your dignity. And sometimes, the only person who knows strength exists inside you is you.
Nash’s muscles tensed. He seemed coiled, ready to burst. I didn’t know what to do, but I felt like I owed him. Touching him felt weird. Forbidden. Like I had broken a boundary no one had warned me existed. Still, I placed a palm on his back, hoping it brought him some comfort, like he and Reed had gifted me today.
If anything, he became tenser until I drew invisible lines on his back with my finger and began playing Tic-Tac-Toe with myself. Nash twisted his head and arched a brow at me, but his muscles had loosened. A lopsided grin tilted my lips up. I slashed a finger across the imaginary grid, pretending it was Reed’s back I was touching.
“Winthrop Textiles?” Dad raised his voice and pivoted to face Mother. His heel crushed the cigar against the marble, scattering dusky ashes like a shattered urn. “Able Cartwright hurt our daughter, and you’re worried about Winthrop Textiles?”
“Yes, I am. You should be, too.” I could picture her waving her arms around, gesturing to the cold marble of the living room. “How do you think we afford all this?”
I peeked around Reed and Nash a bit, in time to see Dad spear Mother with a glower that suggested he might hate her. I wasn’t my mom’s biggest fan, but Dad seemed pained, betrayed, some mixture of feelings that hurt me to witness.
“What if we did nothing?” I rested my forehead against one of the brothers. “What if…”
I considered Reed in juvie, all golden-haired and bronze-skinned beauty. He wouldn’t last. He’d come out jaded and acting like… well, like Nash.
“What if we could find a way to make this all disappear?” I finished, louder this time, peeping out from behind my wall of brothers to do so.
Betty Prescott shot me a grateful glance, hope in her eyes along with guilt. I understood it—the need to protect her sons at all costs. Her hope was mine, too.
“Wonderful idea, sweetie.” Mother stepped forward, the pep back in her step, and clapped twice. “Let me talk to Eric. We’ll get this settled. No one presses charges on either side. It’ll be like nothing ever happened.”
Except something had happened.
To me.
Did she even care?
Laughing and making dumb t-shirts with Reed pushed tonight away, but standing in front of an audience, vulnerable… what had almost happened hit me hard. I dipped behind the Prescotts and fell forward into Reed.
A broad hand reached back to steady me, and I realized I’d actually fallen onto Nash’s back.
He looked over his shoulder and whispered, “Easy, Tiger.”
I stared into his eyes, trying to figure out what he was trying to tell me with them. In front of him, my parents fought, but I focused on the Prescott brothers, my fingers finding purchase on Reed’s arm and Nash’s words.
“Why a tiger?” I asked.
We had one in the foyer, but I’d never thought much about it. It had a gaudy silver-skinned version of Dionysus riding it and Dionysus’ cult tattooed on its hind legs, none of which I identified with.
“It’s a saying,” Reed offered, still refusing to stare at either of us. He trained his eyes on Betty and Hank. His rage hadn’t lessened, but at the very least, I knew it wasn’t directed at me.
Nash shook his head. “You’re the tiger.”
I waited for him to explain. He didn’t.
“When you say it to me, I can’t figure out if you’re being nice or making fun of me.”
He shook his head, laughter on his breath. The amusement in his eyes carried levity I clung to. “Why can’t it be both?”
“Gideon!” Mother shouted. Her shrill voice broke the Prescott spell. “We are not jeopardizing our relationship with the Cartwrights over this!”
“And you’re okay with jeopardizing your relationship with your daughter?!” he called out to her retreating back, but she’d already left the room toward the office.
Finally, Dad turned to me, Reed, and Nash. “Are you okay? Did Able…” he started, then stopped as if realizing the company.
I bit my lip to stop it from quivering. Winthrops were strong.
“Nothing happened, Dad. He tried, but…” I trailed off, feeling silly because I was still hiding behind the Prescott brothers when I’d done nothing wrong. I stepped to the side and stared Dad in the eyes, my chin tilted up and voice steady. “I’m fine. I swear. And if Able is in the hospital, he got what he deserved, though I think I did a pretty good job kneeing him in the balls if I do say so myself. Twice.” I leaned against Reed, who wrapped an arm around my shoulder. “For the record, Dad, these shirts are accurate. Able Cartwright has a small dick, and now he has a gazillion broken body parts to go with it.” I squeezed Reed’s hand on my shoulder, a silent thank you.
Dad scanned me, examining my face for any signs of lying. “That’s my girl, but it ain’t enough for me.” He shook his head. Someone cared. Warmth blossomed across my chest. “He deserves jail.”
“No.”
“Em?”
“If I press charges, he’ll press charges against Reed. You know this.”
Dad and Nash cursed at the same time. Dad swiped a palm down his face and shifted his weight onto his back foot.
“Please, Dad, do this for me,” I added.
Silence trickled between us. He finally relented and shifted his eyes to Nash, like he was the leader of our little trio. “I want the three of you in Emery’s room. I don’t want Cartwright to catch sight of y’all when he shows up. Okay? It’ll only make it worse. I’ll do my best to fix this.”
“Yes, Dad.”
“Hank. Betty. Join me in my office, please?”
As soon as the room emptied, Reed had his forearm pressed against Nash’s throat. “What the fuck, man?!”
I caught the flash of remorse in Nash’s eyes before it fled, and he couldn’t have looked calmer even if he had a cigarette dangling from the corner of his lips. “I’m sorry.”
Two softly spoken words.
An apology I didn’t understand.
Still, I bore witness to the scene, an interloper they didn’t bother acknowledging.
Reed pressed harder against his brother’s throat before letting go. “Fuck you.” He shook his head. “Fuck Mom. Fuck Dad.” He strode off and out of the back door, ignoring my dad’s demands to hide.
Ignoring me.
“Reed!” I stumbled after him, but a hand tugged my shirt back. I jerked away, and Nash released me, even when I fell into the wall.
“Let him go.”
For a fleeting second, I wished to be Nash Prescott. I wished to have whatever chemicals in his brain allowed him to see the people he cared about and let them go.
But I wasn’t Nash.