Page 13 of Save Me

“The fuck did you just call him?” Logan’s voice is calm. Scary calm. The kind of calm that Tyler used to get. The calm that makes my stomach ice over.

The guy tries to get a grip on Logan’s hands. I should do something. I should. But that rage is boiling through me, and I want to see the fear etched all over his face, in the lines around his eyes, and the wide gape of his mouth.

And then the moment is broken. Logan sets the man down, takes a step back, and then turns to face the back, pulling in a deep breath.

There’s silence for a beat in which the man pauses. I pause. What is happening?

The man’s gaze bounces between me, Dakota, and Logan, his eyes wild. I watch his fists clench and unclench. His gaze lingers on me for a beat too long before he reaches for something in his pocket and leaps at Logan.

I lunge forward, but Logan’s already turning, sending an arm backward into the man’s face. The man goes crashing to the ground. I’d jump in, but Logan’s on top of the dude pummeling him, clearly not in need of any help.

“Not at your job!” Dakota throws his hands in the air.

“I ought to fucking kill you, you know that? Insulting my man.” Logan grabs the man’s head and pulls it back. The man lets out a shaky breath.

For a second, fear hits my system. Logan’s always had a scary…something about him, and I realize in this instant that it’s because I fully believe Logan’s about to hurt him…and I feel like he won’t stop either.

Then, Logan gets off the guy.

I let out a breath, and there’s relief mixed with something else…something I can’t quite name.

Logan runs his hands through his hair and turns away.

The man on the ground gets up, and I see the flash in his hand. A knife. Dakota can’t see it from where he’s standing.

Before I can think, I grab the nearest armrest and swing it into the man’s head. He thunks down, the knife clatters, and Logan turns. He sees the knife, then looks at me. I see it in his eyes now. That calm. The decision.

“Go home.” Logan’s voice is deadly, and it’s directed at me. He fixes me with a look that’s harsh. “And you saw nothing tonight.”

Suddenly, I’m not here anymore. I’m sixteen, and Joshua’s shoulders are crumbling in on themselves. I’m sixteen and frozen as Dad calls me a fag. I’m sixteen, and I’m fighting the kid in the hallway with the most exhilarating feeling.

“Micah. Are you hurt?” Through the fog, I think Dakota is checking me over for injuries, but something feels off.

I take a step back, looking at the man on the floor. He’s groaning. In that moment, he looks like my dad, pitiful, getting what he deserves. And I’m not mad. In fact, a righteous sense of justice fills my chest.

Logan and Dakota are watching me. Like I’m a liability. Like I need to get home. But all I can see is Dad. And I smile.

“I’ll call the department,” Dakota says. “I’ll get his attempted as-s-s-sault reported. If we need you, I’ll let you know.”

I glance up to see that Dakota is looking at me. Talking to me. Right. He’s telling me to leave.

I take another step. “Oh yeah. Happy to help.”

When they don’t say anything, the gravity of the situation hits me. I just witnessed a fight that clearly isn’t over yet. No, I participated. And they’re dismissing me.

I’m a liability.

My stomach clenches, and I take another step and another until I’m out the back door.

I keep walking till I get to my car.

I’m not sure exactly what just happened. I’m not sure why I’m okay with it. But one detail keeps nagging at me: Dakota isn’t the one I want to be checking me over for injuries. The one I want is back at home. At my home. The place I’ve been avoiding. Only, I have to go back there now.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Never in my life did I think I’d be walking a skunk in a stroller in rich suburbia past nine at night. Thank fuck it’s late because I don’t need people looking inside and seeing an electrocuted feather duster with a fart box. However, apparently Princess wants his evening walk, so Princess gets his evening walk.

And he’s not happy about the method. I’m fairly certain he’d be frolicking in the middle of the road if I didn’t have him attached by a leash to his fancy prison.