Page 70 of Wristlocked
“Are they fighting?” I ask. “Did Jamie…” I trail off, not sure how much Hope knows. She shakes her head, tears welling in her dark eyes.
“I think Jamie’s gone,” she whispers. “He left my room hours ago. Gale started yelling, and it woke me up, but I haven’t heard anyone else’s voice.”
“Fuck.” I scrub my hands through my hair and take in Gia’s stricken face. “Okay. Thank you for calling us, Hope. We’ll take care of it.”
If Jamie’s actually gone—on top of whatever went down with Celeste tonight—a ripple of fear floods my spine. Another crash echoes down the hallway, the sound of something heavy hitting the closed door. Gia breaks free of my grasp and takes off at a run, leaving me no choice but to sprint after her.
She barely beats me and barrels through the door without knocking, but she pulls up short at the threshold. The place is trashed. Gale’s rooms have never looked like a typical college guy’s space. Maybe he got used to living minimally in the foster home, or maybe he didn’t want to spend his money on a bunch of stuff, but aside from his circus gear and his expensive wardrobe, the suite is as bare as a hotel room. He’s still managed to make a fucking mess of it, though. The flatscreen TV is on the floor in a litter of glass. Both armchairs are tipped over, one wedged partly against the door at our feet. All the cushions and blankets from Jamie’s bed on the couch have been torn off, and the metal stand lamp is bent in half in the bathroom doorway.
Another splintering crunch sounds from the bedroom, followed by a wordless scream of rage.
“Gale,” Gia cries, crossing to the bedroom door. Cursing, I follow.
Gale stands shirtless in the wreckage, blood dripping from his knuckles, and I take an involuntary step back at the ravaged look on his face. His eyes are wild, there’s another smear of blood at his temple, and every muscled line of his body is rigid with rage. Even Gia hesitates before approaching him cautiously. He flinches away when she tries to touch his face, and she drops her hand.
“Where’s Jamie?” I ask, because of course it has to be me, the one who already knows the answer.
“Gone. Dead. Halfway to fucking hell. Who the fuck knows?”
“How?” Gia asks. “I thought he didn’t have any money?”
“He does now.Fuck.” He whirls and punches the wall again, leaving another smear of blood beside the one already there. Without thinking, I grab Gia and throw myself between them.
“What do you mean?” I ask. “You had money in here?”
“Almost eight thousand dollars.”
“Jesus, Gale.” I shake my head, and for a second, I think he’s going to swing at me next.
“It was my escape fund. In case Celeste—It was fucking hidden!”
I don’t know how to respond to that without sounding like a dick. He didn’t understand. He never actually lived with Jamie while he was deep in the addiction. For all his sharp edges and cynicism, he still believed being there would make a difference.
“Do you want to go look for him?” Gia asks. “You found him last time.”
Gale barks a short, bitter laugh. “Last time, he called me. He wanted to be found.” He looks down at his hands and flexes them, watching the blood bloom in the raw edges of the skin.
“What do you want to do?” I ask, keeping my voice carefully neutral.
He raises his eyes to mine, then shifts his gaze to Gia.
“I want to hurt something.”
The switch is immediate, like lightning crackling over my skin. Gia’s rush of indrawn breath behind me sucks the air from my own lungs.
“Gale,” I warn, but it’s like fighting gravity. He kicks aside the empty drawer at his feet and stalks toward us, boots crunching on the scattered contents.
“Get out of here, pretty boy. You don’t want to see this part.”
“You’re not getting anywhere near her right now.”
“Lyot.” Gia’s hand brushes my arm. “It’s okay.”
“It’s not fucking okay.” Fear and frustration shimmer beneath the surface of my voice. “He said something.You’re not a fuckingthing, Gia.”
“He knowsthat.”
Gale watches her, his green eyes predatory.I’m not sure he fucking does.His hurt and fury leak out all over him, straining at the confines of control. He is beautiful and terrifying anddesolate.
