Double Heat [Twin Ties: 3] (19 page)

Evan floundered. He couldn’t come up with a believable lie. To cover, he started to walk toward the living room. “Oh, it... it doesn’t matter.”

Right at Evan’s back, following, Alek said, “And I think we need a talk about everything that was said between you and Jimmy earlier. If you need a rain check for tonight, though, you can have it. I know you’re already dealing with a lot.”

Evan sank down onto the couch, running his hands over his head, tousling his hair. He curled up on himself, not able to raise his head, to say a word. Alek sighed and pulled Evan against him, caressing his back and side, kissing the top of his head.

“It’s okay,” he told Evan tenderly. “I’m sorry it seems so rough right now, but it’ll be okay. It’ll get easier. I promise.”

Evan wished it was true, but everything felt really far from okay.

Brennan was making good time. He passed through one state, then another, then another. The rearview mirror was turned away so he didn’t accidentally catch sight of himself in it. He’d left a lot of stuff back at Hailey’s place but he had the essentials—his phone and his wallet. He stopped for gas when he started to run out, choosing the most deserted gas station he could find. He paid at the pump, with a credit card. He wouldn’t go inside to look for a bathroom or go near the rest stop bathrooms either for fear of having to explain what he looked like or why he wasn’t wearing a coat in the middle of winter. He peed on the side of the road when he had to, then just kept going.

Traffic was light, even though maybe it shouldn’t have been. It was Sunday, but Sundays meant the end of the weekend and people traveling home from places they’d been visiting. Already, Brennan was closing off what had happened, pushing it back behind walls. It didn’t matter. He’d gotten out of Monroe and he was going home. That’s all that mattered.

But as the hours ticked by and the miles disappeared under his tires, Brennan began dreading what he would say to Alek, Luka, and Evan when they saw him in the state he was in. That dread was like a push. The same instinct that kept him from using the rest stops also made him think going to the apartment was a bad idea. The last thing he could handle was a big dramatic scene with three different people freaking out and expecting explanations he didn’t know how to give.

He knew where he could go instead. It was somewhere safe. Somewhere he’d be welcomed, even if he didn’t want to explain. Somewhere he could sleep and shower. Somewhere without judgment or fear. Somewhere worse situations than his had been handled quickly, efficiently, and without much of a fuss.

So he pressed the gas harder and flew down the road. The cold kept him alert, so he kept the heater turned down. He would have liked some more coffee, but that was out of the question, as impossible as calling Evan without the will to voice anything he was going through.

He just felt so stupid. He shouldn’t have let Tommy sneak up on him like that, or stuck around to hear what he had to say. He should have fought back more, or done something differently. He should have told Evan, Luka, and Alek about Tommy earlier, long before it had progressed this far. Brennan should have changed his number or told Tommy to leave him alone sooner, and to stop sending messages.

It all felt like it was Brennan’s fault, like the sum of his bad decisions had produced the only possible outcome.

It was a really long drive. When the sun set, Brennan’s eyelids grew heavier. He had to push on, though. He couldn’t stop or nap. He needed to be somewhere he could stop, breathe, and regroup, and that wasn’t on the side of the highway in the middle of nowhere, with only his regret to keep him company.

Sometime in the middle of the night, he finally pulled onto a gravel road which led back through fields of tall grass, surrounded by forest. He was crying, the relief for finally getting there was so strong.

The car stopped at last. He shifted into park. The tears were streaming down his face. His left wrist was tucked against his body. His teeth clacked together loudly as the shivering grew worse, especially once he stumbled out of the car into the icy air of night. It had been warm in Louisiana. He hadn’t needed a coat that morning for his visit to the cemetery. All he was wearing was a t-shirt and yoga pants he intended to burn once he found a match.

Climbing the couple of steps to the trailer door, Brennan knocked, calling hoarsely, “Jimmy? Jimmy, please! Jimmy?”

It took a minute or so for Jimmy to hear. Brennan heard him coming to the door, his footsteps, and his concerned call of, “Evan? What’s wrong?!”

The door opened. Dim light shone down upon him from inside. Brennan kept his eyes on the steps at his feet.

“Oh my god.
Oh, Brennan
,” Jimmy groaned.

Brennan’s arm was gently taken as Jimmy helped him inside.

“Jesus, you drove here, didn’t you? You drove all the way from Louisiana.”

He was so dizzy and he couldn’t stop shivering, even when Jimmy wrapped a blanket around him, like he’d done when Brennan had run from Charlie. Brennan waited, wondering if he’d hear Charlie’s knock again. Or maybe this time it would be Tommy, following him all the way across the country just to finish what he’d started. It seemed possible. Maybe Tommy had been right behind him the whole way, the whole day.

“Don’t let him in, okay?” Brennan said, slurring his words, holding his wrist to his stomach.

“Who did this to you?” Jimmy asked, running water in the kitchenette. He came back and pressed a damp cloth lightly to the side of Brennan’s face. It came away red.

“I’m so tired. Can I sleep for a while?”

“No, I’m taking you to the hospital.”

“No,” he shook his head, swayed as the lightheadedness struck him hard.

“Up you go. Come on.” Jimmy brought Brennan’s arm around his shoulders. Then they were moving, Brennan’s feet dragging a little. When they were back out in the cold, Brennan started to cry.

He was helped into the passenger seat of the Chevy. The door shut. At least it wasn’t as cold.

The driver’s side door opened but Jimmy was just standing there, staring at the driver’s seat. The little lights were on in the car’s interior, too bright.

“Oh Jesus,” Jimmy moaned.

Brennan curled up in the seat, wanting to sleep. Jimmy got in finally and started the engine.

“No, stay with me. No sleeping. Brennan! Stay awake! You hear me!”

“My head hurts.”

“I know. But you need to stay awake, okay?”

They were moving. The car was moving.

“What else hurts?”

“Everything.”

“Specifically, what hurts?”

“My wrist.”

“Give me a name. Don’t think about it. Just say it. Who did this?”

“Tommy Koch.”

“Good. Good boy. Do you know you’ve been bleeding? There’s blood on the driver’s seat.”

Brennan curled up more, shut his eyes.

“Brennan! Stay with me,” Jimmy said loudly, making Brennan’s head ache. “Did Tommy rape you?”

“It was good he had a button fly. He had to let go, to open it. I kicked him in the face. If I broke his nose, he’s gonna kill me.”

“Who is Tommy?”

“Ex-boyfriend. Ex to me, not to him. He was so angry. I should have told him to stop calling me. He never stopped calling. I’m so tired.”

It was a weird day. Overcome with restlessness, his head full of things he didn’t want to think about, Evan stared at himself in the bathroom mirror like he could communicate psychically with Brennan that way, somehow. Evan had realized he needed to do something, even if it didn’t make sense.

He needed to hide. He needed to get rid of things he didn’t want. He needed to change.

That hair-tearing madness still had him. It was so hard to just wait and hope something good would happen. He wasn’t used to being the one to wait on people. He’d waited on Charlie, but never expected Charlie to come back or do much of anything really, so it was quite a challenge to be patient, trying to believe Brennan was okay. The norm had always been for Charlie to vanish, to drop off the map. It was too similar, and jarring, to experience it with Brennan, who Evan needed so desperately.

The hair clippers were in the drawer, underneath a pile of stuff he’d dumped in there from what he’d brought when he’d moved in. It was all unsorted, miscellaneous bathroom and grooming supplies. Turning his head this way and that, Evan stared at himself and decided.

He switched on the clippers and pushed them through the hair at the center of his forehead, following the curve of his scalp backward. Thick clumps of dark blond hair tumbled down into the sink, onto the counter. He felt lighter. He kept going.

It didn’t take long. He used a hand mirror to check the back, to make sure he’d gotten everywhere and it was even. The hair left was so short; it felt like velvet under his hand.

His reflection was different. Maybe it would be enough, and he wouldn’t be as recognizable.

He went to bed feeling a little better. It was hours before he woke again, and when he did, Alek and Luka were there, lying on either side of him.

At four in the morning, someone started knocking on the door. The doorbell rang, too. Since the door was down the flight of steps and pretty far away from the bedrooms, it was the bell they heard first. Once the three of them were awake, they investigated the bell together, though Alek told Evan to stay in bed, to stay back. Evan didn’t listen. He followed Alek and Luka to the stairs. Then they heard the knocking, a fist pounding on the wood.

“What the hell?” Luka asked. “You think it’s Drew? Drunk and looking for you, like he used to? You know he would come right up to your room’s private entrance at the old place, no invite needed.”

Alek didn’t reply, he just opened the coat closet and pulled a metal baseball bat from it. Holding it with a firm grip, like he was preparing to swing for the fences and knock a ball—or Drew’s head—into the stands, Alek went down the steps first. Luka stayed at the top, holding Evan back.

It was a waking nightmare. He imagined Drew standing down there, looking for Alek, or looking for
him
. Maybe Drew did get drunk, and the booze had greased his tongue, making him want to tell the twins the truth about Evan. Drew had always liked his beer. It was possible. Evan was both comforted and disturbed by the way Luka held him, like he was certain whoever was pounding on that door only had awful things to share. And watching Alek descend those steps, glancing back, going slow, trying to be silent, the bat held up and ready... Evan was overwhelmed with dread.

“Luka, maybe—” Evan started, wanting to back farther away, to run away and hide or stop Alek from opening the door.

“Shh, it’s okay,” Luka hushed. “He’s got this.”

“Who’s there?” Alek called.

“It’s me, Jimmy!”

“Jimmy?”

Alek set down the bat beside the door and opened it.

Too fast, everything started to make sense.

“
No
,” Evan whispered. Luka manhandled Evan further inside the apartment once he’d seen who was down there. Luka pulled Evan back from the steep flight of steps, but Evan tried to get free, to go, and to run forward. “NO!”

Alek and Jimmy helped Brennan up the stairs.

Luka, shaken and pale, was still easily strong enough to hold Evan back while Evan clawed at him and the encircling arms kept him from running to Brennan.

“No,” Evan ranted, denying it.

The bad feeling, the inescapable bad luck—it had caught up with them. It was there, in the room.

There were stitches and stark bruises around Brennan’s left eye, which was swollen shut. His right eye was mostly closed, too. His left arm was in a sling and a brace, but it was his silence, the expression on his face, the
feel
of him that was the most awful part. He felt
wrong
.

“They wanted to keep him overnight for observation because of his concussion, but he refused the doctor’s order,” Jimmy was explaining.

Luka was too strong. Evan couldn’t escape him. Alek and Jimmy had led a wholly unresponsive Brennan, wearing strange, ill-fitting clothes, to his bedroom and reemerged without him.

“
I need to
,” Evan pleaded. “Let go. Let go!”