Rock the City: A Midnight Fate Novel (24 page)

I hang on the line, thankful it only takes the medics about five minutes to get here. They barge into the bathroom, the stretcher knocking a dingy tile off the corner of the wall. It clatters against the floor, equally as broken as everyone around it.

“What’s she on?” the medic asks, like I’m the one responsible. I could take a couple guesses, but it wouldn’t do them any good or help them fix my sister.

“I don’t know, but give me two minutes and I’ll have an answer for you,” I tell them in a rush before I’m back in front of Trey’s bedroom. I don’t even feel my foot crash against the wood door when I kick it open. It’s like I’m a spectator in my own life, watching from a distance as Trey’s about to get what he deserves.

I know he’s just as fucked up when he doesn’t even budge from the mattress he’s lying on. There’s an almost full bottle of vodka on the nightstand next to the bed, so I twist off the cap and pour it over his head.

He jumps up so fast he slams his leg on the table, his voice hoarse as he screams from the pain of his leg and the alcohol burning his eyes.

“What’d you give her, fucker?” I yell in his face.

He can barely see me through the slits in his eyes, but he recognizes my voice. “What the hell is wrong with you, Lane?”

“I asked you a question. The paramedics are in your bathroom trying to save my sister. You’re eighteen with a minor in your house, barely breathing.”

He wipes his face off with his shirt and reaches for the bottle of water that was next to the vodka, pouring it over his eyes in a shitty attempt to flush them. “I’m not her babysitter. What she does is on her.”

“You’re the only one who gives her shit, Trey. Don’t fuck with me. She needs help.”

Like he finally hears the urgency in my voice, he says, “She smoked and probably took some pills. Alcohol, too. She likes fruit punch with rum in it.”

He gave me the answer I was asking for, but I still thank him with a fist to his face. One punch will never be enough though, and before I know what’s happening, I’ve landed at least three more to follow the first.

I pull back for another just as he ducks and white lightning pierces my chest, knocking me backward against the closet door. Glancing at my hand, blood from Trey’s nose drips off my knuckles. The redness seeps through the slash in my T-shirt, gravity forcing the rest of the blood on a journey through the hardened ridges of my abs until it drips off my skin and onto the toe of my boot.

I can hardly breathe but I stand tall, charging at Trey like a man possessed. I wrap my fingers around his throat so hard, my only intention to choke him until his head explodes.

Instantly, the pressure against his trachea forces him to drop the knife. It clatters to the wood floor beneath us just as two cops rush the room and pull me away from Trey.

As soon as they see I’ve been stabbed, they let go of me, ushering me to the edge of the bed while they lunge for Trey before he can get away. I take their moment of distraction for what it’s worth and chance a run back to Lemon.

I’m already thinking of all the things I want to say to her. All the apologies I have for letting her down and not paying enough attention to her when she needs it. The first ‘I’m sorry’ is on the tip of my tongue when I barge through the door. Only this time, she’s not in the bathtub when I get there. She’s already
gone—and I have no idea if I’ll ever see her again.

My eyes are heavy this morning and my head aches a little bit. I didn’t sleep for more than an hour at a time, and each time I did let myself doze off, I’d wake up in a panic, mad that I let myself be so careless.

Lane was so exhausted he passed out about a half hour after he told me about the scar. He’s had years to come to terms with it in whatever way he’s needed to, but for me, the wound is practically bleeding, still way too fresh for me to be able to close my eyes without picturing Lemon in the bathtub or him with blood trickling down his chest.

This morning, my feelings haven’t changed; if anything, I’ve become more protective of the both of them
—
even more desperate to ease their pain and work toward a happier ending for once. If Lemon wants me to hold her hand, I will. If she needs to cry on my shoulder, I’ll let her. I’ll do whatever it takes.

She doesn’t hear me when I open the bedroom door, so I wait to see what she’s doing. Wearing Lane’s T-shirt and a pair of faded jeans, she stands in front of the trash can with her foot on the pedal to hold the lid up. After a few seconds of deep breathing, her thin frame heaves, and she throws up into it.

My heart wants to run to her and rub her back, but I wait her out, giving her the space she deserves. As soon as she finishes, she ties up the bag and walks to the sink where she washes her hands and rinses her mouth out. She stares mindlessly out the window, even though she probably has more running through her head in any given moment than I could imagine.

After she dries her hands, she glances at her stomach and runs her palm over her belly. I’m about to ask her if she’s hungry when she tears a banana off the bunch and tucks it in her back pocket. Like she has a plan, she moves to the door to the condo and glances over her shoulder, her hand still on the knob.

Like she’s debating whether to stay or go, or even waiting for someone to stop her, my words come out harsher than I realize. My heart is thumping so wildly, I feel like I just finished a marathon. I stayed up all night, waiting for this to happen, and here she is, about to bail. That’s why, with teary eyes, I tell her, “If you walk away, Lemon, don’t come back.”

I won’t let her destroy Lane again.

Surprised by my voice, she turns around with her hand on her chest, her fingers fiddling with the pendant she wears around her neck. “Noelle, I didn’t know you were awake.”

“I stayed up all night making sure you didn’t do what you’re about to do. I even felt a little guilty for expecting it after you stayed in your room all night long, but it looks like I had every right to worry.”

“Why do you care if I stay?” she whispers. “Your life would be so much easier if I left.”

“Maybe I don’t want easy, Lemon. Don’t get me wrong; eventually, I’d get over you leaving. It’d be hard for me to wrap my head around why you would want to, because I care about you and want better for you, but I’m newly invested. I’d be okay after some time. It’s Lane who wouldn’t be.”

“He’s made it this long. All I ever do is hold him back.”

“He told me about the scar on his chest last night, and after hearing how close he came to death, I won’t ever let him go after you again. I love your brother too much to risk losing him. I just wish you did, too.”

Like I’d slapped her across the face, she steps away from the door. “I don’t want to keep hurting my brother. He’s done so much for me.”

“Then when is enough, enough? When are you going to want more for yourself? Because if I were you, I’d be so tired of being taken advantage of and used.”

“Well, you
aren’t
me,” she snaps back. “You have no idea what I’ve put up with, let alone lived through. I hate to break it to you, but life isn’t the fairytale you’re hoping for, Noelle.”

I move a little closer, wrapping my fingers around the granite slab covering the island countertop to keep me from completely losing my shit. Looking her straight in the eye, I tell her, “You’re right, it’s not a fairytale. But since I’ve been with Lane, it’s been pretty damn close. Life is about surrounding yourself with the right people, and as soon as you start doing that, you’ll see the difference. You’ll believe in fairytales again.”

She rolls her eyes at me, only pissing me off more. “That’s so easy for you to say. You land someone from Midnight Fate and think you have it made. I guess you probably do considering what they’re worth, but most guys aren’t like Lane. I’ve never met someone who even comes close.”

“Then I suggest you keep looking until you find one who is. I’m not a gold digger, and if you’re suggesting I am, then I’ve got nothing else to say to you other than this destructive pattern you’re in needs to stop. I won’t let you rewrite
my
story because you’re too damn stubborn to do something about your own.”

Lane walks into the living room with his hair sticking up and his pajama pants hanging loosely off his hips. “What the fuck are you two arguing about at eight in the morning?” he asks, looking back and forth between the two of us like we’re children who need scolded.

Finished with the conversation, I try to storm past him, but he grabs my arm and keeps ahold of me. “Noelle?”

“I’ve said all I have to say.” Pulling my arm out of his grasp, I walk over to the fruit basket where I pull another banana off the stem. After throwing it down on the counter, I look at Lemon and tell her, “Here, take two.”

By the time I slam Lane’s bedroom door, I’m on the verge of tears. I hear them talking back and forth, and I don’t move again until their voices fade away and the silence becomes too much to handle.

My nerves are so shot I chew on my nails, wondering if Lemon stayed or if she left. As much as I want to help her, I feel like this is about to become more than we can handle
.
That’s if it already hasn’t.

“Noelle?” Lane calls out when he doesn’t find me in bed.

Unless I jumped out the window, there are really only two places I could be
—
the bathroom or the closet. Regardless, I help him out when I yell, “I’m in here.”

He follows the sound of my voice, walking into the closet with a confused expression. It doesn’t help that he finds me huddled in front of a shelf full of shoes, and sitting right next to my suitcase.

Jumping to conclusions, he says, “Now you’re leaving? What the fuck is going on with you two today? I thought things were good when I went to bed.”

“I’m not leaving. I’m just choosing to sit here and sulk for a little while.”

Like he hadn’t considered it, he shrugs and joins me, sitting on the plush carpet in his walk-in closet. “You were pretty badass out there, laying down the law and sticking up for me. That was so fuckin’ hot.”

I reach for a shoe off the shelf and chuck it at him. “Don’t tell me I’m hot. It’s not funny. This is serious.”

“You’re absolutely right. Noelle, you’re hideous, and I don’t know what I ever saw in you.”

Half laughing, I want to throw another, but I don’t. “I wasn’t trying to start drama. I think we already have enough of that.”

His voice softens a little when he says, “You know that no matter what happens with Lemon, you’re still my priority.”

“After waiting so long to finally be with you, I really want you all to myself. I want to go back to being in our perfect little bubble that nobody can pop, but that would be selfish of me
,
especially since Lemon needs you.”

“You’re not just saying that because it’s what you think I want to hear?”

“Depends if she stayed or if she left,” I tell him honestly.

“She stayed, Noelle. Because of
you
. Not me.”

“The last thing I wanted to do was guilt her into getting help. But something came over me when I saw her at the door, about to walk out. It was like she was the one giving up on us, and I couldn’t figure out why she’d rather leave a safe place for one that’s eventually going to kill her.”