Page 74 of Avalanche
“I don’t think I miss the beer can wall,” Liam observes drily. “I like being able to see into the kitchen.”
Matty stares back at Liam with an almost guilty expression, as if expecting to be chastised for flirting with Liam’s boyfriend. Antoine lifts his chin defiantly, not releasing his hold on Matty’s hands. “You could see into the kitchen even better if you were in here. Helping.”
Liam snorts, then throws his head back on the back of the couch, his arms tightening possessively around me as he hauls me against him. “But then who would look after Lily?”
“Excuse me?” Eddie stomps across the living room to nudge the base of the couch with his foot. “Did you guys hear me? They found him. They found Tom.”
That has Liam sitting up, his body going tense beside my own.
“What?”
I feel the weight of everyone’s eyes on me—Matty’s concern, Antoine’s careful watchfulness, the tinge of violent menace clouding Eddie’s usually cheerful features. I school my expression, trying to hide the way the mention of Tom affects me, the sickening lurch in my stomach, the ice that rushes to my fingertips, to my cheeks, pebbling across the backs of my arms.
“I just got off the phone with Officer Smith,” Eddie continues, and there’s a hard edge to his voice that has me thinking of sharp rocks jutting through snow. “Apparently Tom got caught up in a police checkpoint in Provo, and they’ve arrested him.”
“Thank fuck,” Liam breathes. His arm tightens around my shoulders. I find my own body softening in his hold, melting against the strength of him as Eddie’s words sink into my skin.
“So he’s in jail?” Matty asks, stepping out of the kitchen with a dish towel clutched in his big hands, his blue eyes wide with concern.
Eddie gives a curt nod, his lips a flat line. “For now. Unless he gets bailed out by his rich parents, the spoiled little shit. But the police said he’ll be charged with attempted murder, so hopefully that means he’ll be locked away for a long time.”
Attempted murder.
Those words have my breath catching painfully in my lungs, the image of Seth’s battered body fresh in my memory. There’s something about those words that makes it all seem so much more real, so much more dangerous.
We could have lost Seth. Tom tried to take him from us.
You could have prevented it, a small, insidious part of me whispers. If you’d brought charges against Tom, this would never have happened.
I straighten, ignoring that whisper, pushing it down. It’s a lie. I know it’s a lie. But that doesn’t stop it from snaking its way up my spine, crawling its spidery fingers through my thoughts.
“Does Seth know?” I ask.
He’ll be home soon. Any minute now, hopefully. The thought had me nearly giddy with excitement this morning. This afternoon, it had softened to a quiet sort of delight, a gentle longing to have all of us back together again, to be cozy and warm with the storm raging outside.
Now, all I can think of is whether his parents will be able to get up the canyon at all, or whether they’ll end up stuck in their hotel in Salt Lake with the blizzard. Whether they’ll be able to bring him up the stairs with all the ice. Whether they’ll think to message us when they get to the parking lot.
And what Seth will say when he finds out about Tom.
“Not yet.” Eddie pockets his phone, a grim expression flattening his lips. “We’ll tell him together. When he gets home.”
“When he gets home,” I echo.
Seth comes home an hour later, in a flurry of snowflakes that rush into the condo, his big body propped up between a hulking, middle-aged man and a bright-faced woman with grey framing her temples.
“That’s a bit of bad weather you folks are having,” Pete, Seth’s dad, observes mildly as Seth’s mom releases her hold on Seth to shove the door shut behind them against the howling wind. “Had to take it a bit slower than we’d planned.”
“Seth.”
His name squeaks out of me, a breathy sort of exclamation, my heart leaping into my throat at the sight of him. He grins back at me, his eyes no longer swollen shut but still ringed with deep bruises, his lips no longer cracked. He’s still wearing a neck brace, though it looks smaller than the one he was in at the hospital, and a thick cast wrapped in plastic coverers his lower left leg.
“Lily, honey.” He holds one hand out to me in invitation as his parents help him out of his coat and free his leg from its plastic wrapping, then casts a look around the condo. “Man, it’s good to be home.”
I take his hand, desperate to wrap my arms around him but terrified of hurting him.
“Bring him to the couch,” Liam suggests. “He can eat dinner there. It’ll be more comfortable for him than the table. He can put his leg up.”
“You guys didn’t have to make me dinner…” Seth starts to protest, but Liam silences him with a look.
