Page 137 of Shattered Veil

When Liam finally broke his stiff posture by reaching across the center console for Zoey, she let out all the air in her lungs as if she had been holding it in. Clasping onto his forearm so tightly that I knew her nails would make indentations in his skin through his sweatshirt, she rested her head against his bicep, cursing softly under her breath before placing a kiss there. Zoey cleared her throat as if her display of emotion were an embarrassment, rapidly pulling away from him, but he muttered a quiet, “Come back,” and she returned without hesitation.

I felt her, then.

Cassie’s hand tentatively touched the top of mine, and my eyelids fluttered closed at the feel of her comfort, even if it were only from her fingertips. Heat swelled in my chest, and I looked to her to see that she breathed in deep alongside me as her warm eyes locked on mine. The moment that she whispered, “Jay,” I was quickly removing my seat belt. If I were being honest, I didn’t even remember latching it in the first place…but that thought was neither here nor there. Cassie did the same, and the instant that we were both free, present company be damned, I pulled her onto my lap.

She cradled into me, her legs off to my left, her arms around my neck, and her head tucked into my shoulder…and the weight of her, along with the relieved breath that she let out against me, saved me from the repressive hell that we all had been momentarily bound to.

I held her to me as if she were sand running through my fingers—desperately and haphazardly—and I didn’t relax my frantic, white-knuckled grip on her until she voiced in my ear, “Shhhh.”

Neither of us moved until we arrived back at the complex, and when we did, there was no communication with the group regarding where we were all planning to go, nor were there any quietly spoken goodbyes. We all just walked straight into my apartment, shut the door behind us, and allowed ourselves to feel.

Holing up for the remainder of the day, there were occasional moments when we voiced aloud questions regarding the events past. They were mostly mutterings that we all wondered about but couldn’t answer—like asking of the possibilities of Randy being charged or other police officers being dirty. The inquiries would fall away as quickly as they were spoken, but no one seemed to mind, for it was necessary that we aired out our worries.

The one that carried the most weight, though, came long after I had washed the blood from my face and intermittently iced my cheek for what felt like an appropriate amount of time. We all were attempting to eat ordered Chinese food. Gathered around the living area rather than the dining room, we hadn’t even bothered to grab plates. Utilizing only the provided chopsticks, we silently passed around various paper containers. Sat on the opposite end of the couch from me, Luke appeared pensive as he stared forward at the coffee table.

Cross-legged and on the floor, for he didn’t bother pulling up an additional chair, Liam had just impaled a piece of chicken on a chopstick and tossed it in his mouth when Luke spoke slowly:

“How…um…how do we know if Colton’s alive?”

Liam’s eyes widened as he coughed through his bite, and Zoey quickly pushed herself up into a kneeling position beside him to smack between his shoulders as he croaked, “’M’fine.”

From my right, Claire cleared her throat heavily, placing her head in her hands and miserably groaning a gritty, “Oh, God.”

“Shit,” Luke whispered, rapidly sitting up to stroke her back. “I—that’s not what I meant, baby, I think he’s alive—I meant we can’t just…show up at the hospital. We’ve already been over this.”

We had. And though we had thoroughly considered checking on Colton at the nearest emergency room, we all decided that it was far too risky for us to drop in for a wellness check. We knew that we needed to present as staunchly uninvolved with everything.

“I can call Skylar,” Cassie quietly offered. “Just…just not yet, right?” I glanced her way to see her legs folded just as her brother’s were, though she was in the green chair rather than on the floor. “I know it’s been a little while, but I don’t—I don’t know if she’s getting interrogated or something, and the timing feels…”

Claire murmured, “Yeah.” She pulled her head from her hands and repeated once more, “Yeah.”

“I’ll call her in the morning,” Cassie assured her.

I nodded, as did everyone else. Our appetites—which were scant to begin with—looked to wither down to nothing, and the leftovers were inevitably put in the fridge. And though it had been several hours since I had crawled out of the window at Officer Dowler’s home, it seemed that none of us could bear to separate…so we shifted our seating, and everyone remained for several hours more.

Claire scooted to nestle under Luke’s arm. I took the middle seat. Cassie wordlessly sat on my left, so closely that her arm brushed with mine, while Liam took her chair, and Zoey rested on the floor between his legs. Reruns of a sitcom played at a dull murmur on the television, and as every episode ended only for another to start in a marathon-like fashion, we all sank further into our seats—further into comfort.

On the first roll of the credits, I traced the backside of her hand with my fingertips. Having changed into a short-sleeved t-shirt and sweatpants, Cassie’s arms were exposed, and I watched as goosebumps rose to her skin.

On the second, our fingers had begun to interlace, every slight movement causing the quietest intakes of breath from her or me, and I was sure that despite our eyes being on the screen, neither of us were watching it.

By the third, Zoey had wandered to the kitchen only to return with a glass of water. She set it on the side table next to Liam, glanced to me and Cassie to see our hands woven together, and silently walked to the light switch. Flipping off the one that glowed overhead while the kitchen lighting remained, our motions turned more private, and her grip squeezed mine.

The fourth played through, and at the fifth iteration of the theme song, Cassie looked my way.

“Hi.”

It was a whisper, and I returned it. “Hi.”

“You okay?”

“Mhm,” I mumbled. “You?”

Her lips twitched in a barely-there smile, soft and somber. “Yeah.” Slipping her hand from mine, she reached to brush my hair away from the left side of my face, lingering along the outside of my bruising. “Does it hurt?”

I exhaled bitterly through my nose because it did, and my previously taken ibuprofen had done little to take the edge off the aches.

“Mhm.”

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