Page 130 of Crew Princess
“Cross? What’s going on?” She moved forward, only stopping because my hand was still on his back.
He had tensed. He was all sorts of stiff, but he turned around, and as our gazes met, a flash of understanding passed between us.
I let him go, and in doing that, we opened the way.
Taz moved the rest of the way to her brother. She frowned at Blaise. “You’re from Fallen Crest. What are you doing here?”
We all waited.
It was Cross’ decision.
“Taz,” he finally said. “This is our half-brother.”
Taz lost her shit. And that was understating it.
She yelled, cried, sobbed, screamed, and folded into a ball. Then she started laughing, shaking her head, threatening her parents, threatening Cross. She turned to me a few times with fire in her eyes.
Blaise took off after five minutes. I was shocked he lasted that long.
Taz was in hysterics, and no one could calm her. The girls came in. Race. Even Z tried a hand. She shoved everyone away, turning and walking out with full heaving sobs wracking through her.
Race looked at Cross.
Cross looked at Race.
“I don’t know what to do,” Race said.
Cross held up his hands. “She lost it on me earlier. I’m sure all of this is from the divorce, me moving out, everything. But I don’t think she needs her brother.” He dipped his head forward. “It’s all you, buddy.”
Race grunted. “Asshole.”
“Love you too.” Cross chuckled.
Race looked back at me before leaving. “Did you want to talk? You mentioned it earlier.”
I waved him off. “No. It can wait. Take care of your woman.”
He ran a tired hand over his face. “Prom has sucked. Thank fuck it’s the last one.”
Z belched and raised a beer in the air. “Here’s to that.”
We found Jordan in the kitchen, leaning back against the counter with his legs spread wide. Tabatha was curled into him, her head resting on his shoulder, her arms around his waist. He had a hand stretched out behind her, resting on the counter. He’d been watching me. He lifted his head toward Cross and Z. He raised an eyebrow in question, but I just shook my head.
It was so fucking late.
I didn’t want to have a meeting. I didn’t want to check in with the crew. Yes, there were things to say, but the fight had left me. Channing was handling things. If I wanted to merely go to bed and cuddle with my boyfriend on prom night, I could. And the world wouldn’t end the next day.
Channing was taking care of me, and for once, I was letting him.
It felt good. It felt damn good.
But that wasn’t good enough for Jordan. He pushed off from the counter. Tabatha pouted, losing her half-standing rock to lean against, but he came over. “No meeting? That’s it? All the shit went down tonight, and we’re doing nothing?”
“Jordan,” I sighed.
“Bren,” he mocked.
“Hey.” A reprimand from Cross.
