Page 39 of Wreckage of Me
“Oh,” Becca turns to face me, almost surprised that I’m still here. It’s not helping with my eye twitching situation. “This is Dylan,” she points at me nervously. “And Dylan, this is Colton. My brother…”
Fuck. Her brother. Again. Why is this happening to me with her all the time? Always with her brother, too. In my defense this time, the kid looks older than I thought he was. Didn’t she say he was in high school the last time she told me about him?
Colton’s face doesn’t betray much. It’s obvious that he knows of me, but he’s not letting on if it’s a good thing or not. He gently places Becca’s body to the side so he could face me.
I force a smile on my face and take a couple of steps forward, arm stretched out to shake his hand.
“Good to meet you…” I’m about to saybrother, but don’t get to. Being out of the club has softened me up because I don’t notice him making a massive fist that comes right at my face.
The little shit laid me out.
14
Becca
“Oh my god, Colt,”I scream as soon as Dylan’s heavy body hits the floor. “What the hell did you do?”
“He deserved it,” my little brother shrugs like what just happened was a given. I see him shaking his hand a little, and now I worry about that as well. It’s his throwing arm and hand he used. He can’t afford to get hurt before he even got started.
“Go put some ice on that,” I point my finger toward the kitchen and give him his marching orders. He puts his head down and goes, just like he used to when he was little. “Bring me some ice for Dylan, too,” I yell after him when I hear Dylan groaning from the floor.
I drop to my knees and look him over, knowing he’s okay, but worried, nonetheless.
“Fuck,” he finally manages to say, one hand going to his nose. “I don’t think it’s broken this time,” he mumbles. “But it hurts just as much.”
“Peas okay?” Colt shoves a bag of frozen peas in my face, making me jump in surprise.
“Yeah,” I grab them, then gently place them over Dylan’s face. He hisses in distress when the cold bag makes contact with his skin, but he doesn’t push me away.
“Kid’s got one hell of a right hook,” he mumbles, squinting one eye at me.
“He does,” I start laughing. “I can’t believe he took you out like that.”
Dylan takes a moment to regroup, then finally sits up, followed by him standing all the way up. His eyes go straight to Colton, giving him a smirk in spite of the pain I’m sure his face is in.
“Good to meet you, Colton. Can I shake your hand now?” He puts a hand out and waits.
Colton doesn’t move from his spot behind me. I turn around to look at him, and I can barely hold back the laughter bubbling in my chest when I see him standing there, legs hip width apart, arms crossed over his chest, eyeing Dylan up and down, cataloguing each one of his features and obviously finding faults.
“Colt,” I nudge him gently. “Please.”
The scowl on Colton’s face surely doesn’t match anymore the little boy I keep on thinking that he still is. I almost cringe when he turns his icy blue eyes and fixates them on me.
“What the hell happened with your pants?”
“What?” That’s the last thing I thought he’d say.
“Your pants are ripped in half, Becca.” He sounds like he’s my dad now. “In the area of your ass,” he leans forward as he talks, shooting fire from his eyes.
“I, uh, I…” I don’t know what to say. My pants being ripped had completely slipped my mind.
“That’s actually my fault,” Dylan decides this is the right time to come to my rescue, and if I had a shovel handy, he’d be back to the floor, and I’d be digging a six foot deep hole out in the back.
“Dylan,” I hiss at him, trying to silence him.
“I startled her when she was walking to her car. She fell into a split,” he shrugs apologetically at my brother.
“Jesus,” Colt looks me up and down. “Are you okay? Those are painful as fuck if you’re not in good shape.”
