Page 16 of The Perfect Spiral
The screech of a chair at the table allowed me to open my eyes because I knew people weren’t looking at me anymore.
Cole? He looked so red. God help Drew if he ever sees him again. Leaning on the table with his fisted hands, he looked down at the plate that was positioned in front of him.
Exhaling a long, frustrated sigh, Cole gritted out, “I’m going to fucking kill him!” through clenched teeth.
I’d expected Kyle to be the one spewing expletives and looking like a volcano on the brink of eruption, not Cole.
Cole rose from his seat, pacing the floor before finally striding over to me. He placed his hands on my shoulders, bending down until his lips rested on the crown of my head. “He’s a dead man walking, sis,” he murmured, his tone quiet but deadly serious. He kissed my head and shot the boys a knowing look, one I recognized all too well.
“No, Cole! Don’t you dare do anything! Don’t ANY of you do anything to him! Do you hear me?!” I pointed at Cole, then at the rest of them.
“Nobody hurts our little sister, nobody! Stop defending him, Alex!” Kyle retorted.
I shot Kyle a glare as we both rose to our feet. “I’m not defending him, Kyle. Dammit, I just don’t want unnecessary drama. I don’t want everyone knowing that my brothers and their friends beat the crap out of my ex-boyfriend! I want someone to like meand not feel threatened because of what they heard about what happened to the last guy.! Do you hear me?” I choked on the last words, realizing I hadn’t taken a breath in a while.
“I will hurt him so badly in his pretty-boy face,” Kyle grumbled.
I rolled my eyes and said, “Too late for that!” louder than I’d intended.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Kyle asked, his tone sharp. “I slapped him,” I confessed, my mother’s gasp from across the table making me jump.
“You what?!” Her tone was angry, and I knew this wasn’t going to end well for me.
“Relax, Mom, that’s nothing compared to what we’re going to do to him,” Kyle interjected.
Then, like word vomit, the rest of the truth spilled out. “I punched him in the nose too,” I admitted.
I could see the light at the end of the tunnel. It was faint and distant, but it was there. I was ready to head towards it, ready to say goodbye to the world. I could already see the headlines: Mother Throws Kitchen Sink at Daughter, Crushes Her to Death for Slapping Ex. What a way to go.
“You what!?!?” Kyle echoed my mother’s words, his voice ringing out in the silence. I should’ve kept my mouth shut.
Laughter erupted from every corner of the room, except from Andy and my mom. Especially my mom. I was a dead woman.
“Atta girl” Cole boasted proudly.
“Sis, I’m more proud of you right now than when you got your scholarship to UCLA!” Kyle lunged at me, pulling me into one of his infamous bear hugs. Cole joined in, then so did everyone else, turning it into a group hug.
When the laughter finally died down, we all resumed our seats at the table, my mother still glaring at me.
“Did it feel good to punch that son of a bitch?!” Delilah asked, her eyes gleaming.
“Mom!” Knox shouted playfully, making us all laugh again. Even my mom. Maybe she wasn’t pissed anymore.
“You do that again, I will personally make sure no guy comes within a five-mile radius of you! You hear?!” she warned.
Okay, she was definitely pissed. She was all bite and all bark, and she would definitely follow through. I nodded at her, hoping we could leave it at that. And, thank God, we did.
Chapter 8
The soft hum of muffled voices, bending around the corner and seeping into my room, lulled me into a state of relaxation. I couldn’t decipher the words being spoken, but I didn’t need to.
I craved the solitude of my own thoughts, not the opinions of others. I sat alone on my bed, legs crossed, leaning back on my hands for support.
The aroma of dinner cooking downstairs wafted up, filling the house with a familiar scent. This house was a treasure trove of memories—bittersweet ones. The arguments, the laughter, the screams, and the silences—they all lingered, refusing to be forgotten no matter how hard I tried. I sighed, turning my gaze to the window where a tree brushed its branches against the glass.
Pulling my knees into my chest, I rested my head sideways, my eyes drawn to the beckoning branches. I’d climbed that treemore times than I could count, seeking refuge high above the ground when I was upset.
I’d clamber onto the roof, isolating myself from the inhabitants of the house. This place used to feel like a second home, but it didn’t anymore. Not without my grandad. I missed him.
