Page 92 of Riding the Pine

When they come into the room and see me, Apollo tilts his head. “You weren’t on my couch this morning.”

Artemis points at my clothes. “What the fuck are you wearing, man?” He’s right, I’ve never owned a Gap sweater in my life. Everything about this picture is wrong, and they all know it.

“Where is she?” Ares’s voice is flat, charged with the potential to ignite into trouble at any moment. As always.

Artemis looks at the closed door behind me that leads to Athena’s bedroom. It’s never closed. He takes a step toward the door, and I dart to intercept. His eyes darken, but he relents and steps back.

“I need you all to trust me for a minute.”

The weight of their collective stares is damn near debilitating. They’re intimidating men by themselves, but together… Fuck. This is hard.

“Something happened.”

Artemis looks at the door behind me. And I swear to all that’s holy if he makes a play for that door, I’ll take him down. “Don’t, Artemis. Please. Just let me explain first. It’s what she wants.”

The confusion in Apollo’s face is replaced by fear as his eyes widen.

“Do you want to sit down?” I need to try to diffuse the already mounting tension in the room, but no one moves.

I heave out a sigh, brushing the back of my neck with my palm, the weight of the night resting heavy on my chest and shoulders.

As though they’ve just realized I’m here too, Artemis steps toward me. “You look like shit, Scott. What happened?”

I stifle a yawn with my fist, turning to Apollo. “While you were in the shower, your phone rang. It was Athena, so I answered it.”

He shrugs as though that’s no big deal. “If your phone was ringing, and it was my sister, I’d answer it too. No big deal.”

I nod. Not that I needed the validation, but I didn’t need him pissed at me for that.

“She.” I pause, blowing out a breath. I look into the eyes of her brothers, the ones who love her almost as much as I do, and my stomach plummets. How can I tell them what I saw? What she went through? How can I tell them what they’re going to walk into in that room?

Ares touches my elbow, making me jump damn near out of my skin. “Sit, hermano, you’re shaking.”

They don’t give me a choice, they guide me to the couch and make me sit.

“She.” I swallow, closing my eyes for a beat, still unsure how to say what the fuck happened overnight.

Artemis takes my hand between his. “Just tell us, Scott. Whatever it is, get it out, and we’ll deal with it.”

What I’d give for a poorly placed joke from Ares right now, but everyone knows that what we’re here to talk about isn’t the place for funny.

“She was attacked.” The words are like nails as they tumble from my mouth. “As she was leaving the library. They carried her around the back of the building.”

The air shifts, the tension that was there thickens, and all three men sit with rod-straight spines.

“They held her down.”

Ares curses under his breath. Apollo sits on the couch next to me. I can’t even look at Artemis to see how he’s taking it.

“One of them…” The tears start, and no amount of frantic blinking can put them back. “He raped her while his friend held her and recorded it.” My chest shudders with the effort of what I’m saying. My mouth is dry. Reliving what I saw while telling my family what their sister endured is crushing.

“She fought them. She’s alive, but she’s also pretty fucked up.” There’s no other way to say it, and if I sugarcoat it and they walk into that room, someone may end up making her feel worse about how she looks, or what she’s been through.

“She’s badly bruised.” I point to my jaw. “And we all know that the bruising is going to get worse before it gets better. Her lip is busted, her nose, there’s a cut over her eye, and she has two stitches at the back of her head. There’s bruising around her throat.” I clear my own throat, the words making it harder to speak.

“She’s got a cast on her arm, it’s fractured or broken, I can’t…” I pinch the space at the top of my nose. “I can’t remember. She’s wearing a boot; they’ll need to scan her foot again in a few days once the swelling goes down because it’s like a fucking melon.” I shake my head. I’ve addressed her extremities, but I don’t want to talk about her intimate spaces with her brothers.

Artemis squeezes my hand. “Keep going, Scott. You’re doing great.”

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