Disorder by J.L. Weil

Chapter Thirteen

Iwoke up disorientated and sore as fuck. Someone knocked on my hospital room door, and I realized that woke me up. I must have fallen asleep after the doctors patched me up and administered more pain medication. My eyes cracked open slowly as the door squeaked and my dad walked in. His eyes went through a range of emotions as he got his first look at me, and it was enough to tell me I was a fucking mess. I didn’t need a mirror to tell me that. It was written all over his face.

“Dad?” I rasped.

“Hi, honey.” He forced a smile, adding extra doses of happiness into the deep timbre of his voice. It didn’t help, but I knew he meant well. What else could a parent do when their child was hurting and there was nothing they could do to take away the pain? You faked it.

I was so damn relieved it was him and not Angie. Someone upstairs must have taken pity on me after the shit day this was turning out to be.

“How did you know I was here?” I rasped.

His face paled after stepping into the room. The old band T-shirt he wore had a grease stain on it, so I knew he had rushed over from the shop. “The hospital called me.”

Why him and not Angie?

“They weren’t able to reach your mother, and I’m still listed as your secondary contact,” he explained, seeing the unspoken question crossing my expression.

Oh, thank God. “I’m glad,” I said, making the mistake of attempting a smile. The cut on my lip protested, and I thought it might have started bleeding again.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, pulling the chair in the corner close to the bed. He sat down as he waited for me to respond.

“Like I got the crap beat out of me,” I admitted.

“You don’t look so hot. I’ve had my fair share of split lips and black eyes. Who did you get into a fight with, a troll?”

A hollow chuckled escaped which turned into a wince. “No jokes. I can’t laugh. It hurts too much.”

“I can do that, considering you always thought my jokes were lame.”

“Dad,” I groaned.

“You want to tell me what happened?” he asked, all humor aside. His expression sobered, those blue eyes brimming with concern.

I averted my gaze, staring at the foot of the hospital bed where my feet were. “I got jumped. It was stupid.”

His rigid shoulders dropped a fraction. “What were you doing at Tommy’s? Shouldn’t you have been in class?”

Ugh. Busted. “It’s complicated.” I didn’t want to go into the details.

He wasn’t going to let me get off that easily. “How about you uncomplicate it for me, Josie? The police want to speak with you.”

I frowned, or rather I attempted to frown. “Now?”

“It’s best to do this while the details are still fresh in your head but if you’re not up to it…”

As much as I didn’t want to deal with the police, I’d just as soon get it out of the way. “Okay,” I agreed.

“You’re sure this has nothing to do with school or at home?” he pressed.

Why would he ask that? I tried to remember our conversations and if I’d mention anything about the mean girls at the Academy. He knew how I felt about Angie and Carter.

Tears finally sprang to my eyes, hot and biting. It all came crashing down on me, and I felt so out of my depth.

Dad reached over and grabbed my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze as he placed his other hand on top of our joined ones. “You don’t have to tell me. Not now, if you don’t want to. I didn’t mean to…”

It was difficult to see him for so many reasons. He was clearly upset and struggling to control his emotions while also maintain that solid father figure persona I’d always depended on. But it was also difficult because seeing him reminded me he wasn’t my biological father, a surreal concept I still struggled to grasp. “Dad.” My lips trembled.

“It’s okay. Everything will be okay. The doctor said there is no internal bleeding. A few bruised ribs, but most of the injuries are superficial.”

Well, pop the confetti and break out the champagne. Nothing about my body felt superficial.

Despite the sarcastic thoughts, it was a relief knowing no real permanent damage had been done. The cuts and bruises would heal. I did sort of remember the doctor explaining the same thing, but the pain had been too severe to retain the information.

But everything wouldn’t be okay. Not a chance in hell.

I couldn’t tell that to him, so I just nodded, tears pooling in my eyes.

He patted the top of my hand. “The doctor said I could take you home soon. They just need to wrap up the paperwork. All your X-rays came back satisfactory. Once you finish giving the police your report, we’ll go home. Okay, kiddo?”

Home?

Did he mean to the Pattersons’? My head shook too hard and too fast, but I didn’t care. “I can’t go home. Dad, I—”

“I know that you haven’t been staying with your mother,” he interrupted before I went on a panicky tangent. “She called me last week after your detention.”

My racing heart slowed. “Oh.”

Unfolding his hand cautiously from mine, he fussed with the blankets. “I think it’s best you stay with me while you recover. I’ll handle your mother. That’s if it’s okay with you.”

This time I nodded slowly. “Yes,” I exhaled.

A nurse came in then, asking for some signatures on the release papers. She went over some instructions with my father, prescriptions that needed to be filled for stronger pain medication and how to care for the wounds.

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

My phone vibrated on the bedside table. Two seconds later, it went off again and again. I was afraid to look at the notifications coming through. Word had probably gotten around. Ava would see to that. I didn’t want to talk to anyone. Not yet. I just wanted to get out of the hospital and go home. I wanted to be surrounded by my things, the few I had left behind, sleep in my old bed, and forget for a few hours that Elmwood Academy existed.

I also really, really wanted Brock, but I refused to let myself admit that I needed him, that I wanted to see him because that rang too close to girlfriend vibes.

My phone went off again. Both the nurse and my dad snuck a glance at it. “It might be your mom,” Dad said, offering what would be a responsible excuse for most teenagers. Not me. He probably couldn’t tell with my face all messed up, but I shot him an are-you-kidding-me look.

Dad reached over and handed me my phone. “You should check it just in case.”

The screen had a crack in the corner and the protective case had a few scratches on it from being knocked to the ground. Now I really needed a new phone. Unlocking the passcode, a slew of notifications ran down the screen.

But only one stood out.

Firefly, where the hell are you?

That had been sent over an hour ago. He had texted six more times after that. Stalker much? But in truth, he had every right to be worried. I was known to take off, disregard Brock’s rules. Along with over a dozen messages from the other guys and Mads, there were also numerous missed calls, including three from Ainsley’s house phone.

Had she heard?

I sent a quick text to Brock, assuming he would let Mads and the others know. I’d call Ainsley later tonight when I got home.

Home.

I was going home.

The thought filled me a contentment I hadn’t felt in a long time.

I’m at the hospital with my dad.

I should have known that a quick simple text wouldn’t be enough for Brock. My phone vibrated seconds after I sent the message. What hospital? I could almost feel the sudden uptick in emotion through the phone. Concerned? Maybe. But also pissed off.

I was guessing more pissed off.

Uh, no way would I tell him what hospital. He’d be here in two seconds, most likely followed by the rest of the Elite. The hospital didn’t need the distraction, because the four of them sauntering down the halls would incite a riot. I’m leaving after I give my statement to the police. They are discharging me.

We need to talk.

A part of me wanted to see him…but for all dangerous reasons. I wanted to fall against him and have his strong arms hold me. I wanted him to tell me that he’d take care of Ava. That she would cut out the insane, jealous girlfriend act and leave me alone. I wanted him to make impossible promises that for a short time, I’d believe.

Those all screamed boyfriend. Brock is not my boyfriend, I reminded myself. Before I told him to get his fine ass to the hospital, I sent back a one-word reply. Short and to the point. Later.

Brock would not be satisfied until he got answers. Tell me you’re okay.

I’ll live. Much to Ava’s disappointment.

Firefly.

Damn him. Reading that stupid nickname caused a knot of emotions to rise into my throat, where it got clogged. I could hear him growl my name in my head. It was almost like he was in the room with me. That one word spoke volumes.

I sighed and put the phone down, lacking the energy to keep texting. Whether he liked it or not, Brock would have to wait.

* * *

My body screamed at every bump and curve in the road during the car ride home. I didn’t say much, just closed my eyes and listened to the low rock music coming out of the speakers. After speaking with the police and recounting what I could remember and who was involved, I was exhausted.

Dad helped me get from the car to inside the house. It sucked having to rely on someone for the simplest of tasks, but my injuries could have been much worse.

Looking at my bloodstained shirt, you would have thought I died. It was amazing how much blood a few cuts, even deep ones, could produce.

“Bedroom or couch?” Dad asked as he paused in the entryway, waiting for me to give him a direction.

I took a long second to soak in the familiarity of being home, the scent more manly than before but still somehow the same. The small ranch had only two bedrooms, but for the three of us, it had been enough.

At least, it had been enough for Dad and me.

Nothing was ever enough for Angie.

I shook off the thought, not wanting to think about her. “Actually, I want to take a shower.” I had blood crusted in places that blood shouldn’t be.

He dropped his car keys into the little basket on the table by the door. “Good idea.”

“Then couch,” I added. “Do you have to go back to work?” I didn’t want to be alone, and I was afraid that feeling might linger with me for a while.

Damn Ava.

He walked in front of me, clearing a few discarded cups and things lying around. “No, I’m not leaving. I’m taking a few days off. How about you take that shower, and I’ll make us some soup. You pick the movie.”

“Thanks, Dad. For everything.”

He paused, his eyes meeting mine. “You don’t have to thank me, Josie. I’m just sorry I wasn’t there.” His voice grew rough.

“There is no way you could have possibly known.” I berated myself for not being more careful and guessing something was wrong. I’d just been off-balance since Carter messed with Ainsley.

“Well, when you’re ready to talk about it, I’m here. In the meantime, I think you might still have some old clothes in your room.” He gestured down the hall.

Was there anything better than old, comfy clothes? Not in my world, particularly when I didn’t want anything pressing or rubbing against the raw parts of my skin. The wrappings and bandages kept some of them protected. Dad helped me cover them with plastic wrap and keep them from getting wet.

Alone in the shower, my mind went to all those dark places I didn’t want to relive. Yet, I couldn’t stop the memories. Ava’s, Izzy’s, and Emily’s faces flashed behind my eyes. Their laughs echoed in my ears. The thud and whack of the shoes hitting my flesh, inciting quick bursts of pain that brought fresh tears to my eyes.

I was fucking angry. And angry tears were the worst.

I didn’t like to cry. And crying because of Ava only fed that force of hot rage. The tears made me angry. The anger made me cry. It spun in a vicious cycle until I had no more tears left to fall.

Shivering despite the water turned up to hot and the steam billowing around my face, I turned off the water before my skin could wrinkle any more.

When I emerged from the bathroom in a pair of pink sweats and a baggy T-shirt out of my old closet, Dad was waiting with a glass of water and two pain pills. My hero.

He got me all settled on the couch, propping me up on a pillow from my bed and draping a plush throw over me. It reminded me of when I was little and sick. He always made a bed out of the couch for me to lounge in so I wouldn’t be alone in my room. I was one of those people who didn’t like to be isolated when they felt like shit.

“I called your mother while you were in the shower.” He set a bowl of steaming cream of chicken rice soup in front of me. My favorite. “She isn’t thrilled that you are here, but we both agreed it was for the best. At least for a few days.” He took a seat on the love seat. “She’s worried about you, Josie.”

A ridiculous snort escaped me. That was the joke of the century. If she were truly worried about me, she would take my claims about Carter seriously instead of brushing me off and caring more about the Patterson reputation.

My sarcastic skepticism wasn’t lost on Dad. “And so am I,” he added. “Your mom might not be affectionate or motherly, but she does care about you, Josie.”

“I’m sorry. I just have a hard time believing that right now.” This might have been the opportune moment to tell my dad about me not being his biological daughter, that Angie had taken me from the hospital. But staring into his rugged face, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Not yet. His reaction scared me. Right now, I needed to be here. I needed him.

My time with my father was limited. I didn’t want to ruin what little we had or hurt him, because if he didn’t know what Angie had done, I couldn’t imagine what kind of blow it would be to learn your daughter wasn’t biologically yours and that in fact, your daughter died at birth.

If he did know, he wasn’t the man I thought he was.

But between my two parents, I chose him.

“You don’t have to be worried,” I said, lying through my teeth. “I’ll be okay.”

“Worrying about you is my job,” Dad replied, ripping a hunk of bread off for me before dipping his own into his soup.

I managed to spoon down a small bowl, nothing impressive, and sipped on hot tea during the movie. Somewhere between “Yer a wizard, Harry” and “Five points to Gryffindor,” I dozed. The movie was more than half over when the doorbell rang.

Yawning, I went to stretch, forgetting for a split second that my body felt like it got hit by a wrecking ball. It was quick to remind me. I winced and swore under my breath as my dad stood up to get the door.

“Expecting company?” he asked with a raised brow.

“Uh, I don’t think so.” But as soon as the words left my mouth, I had a sneaking suspicion who was at the door.

That inkling was confirmed when I heard a familiar voice ask, “Is Josie here?”

Brock. If I’d been able, my head would have whipped around over the back of the couch. This house was a fraction of the size of the one Brock lived in. With slow movements, I could glance in the direction of the front door and catch a glimpse of my dad.

He stood so he blocked the opening. “Now isn’t a good time.”

“Dad, it’s okay,” I said from the couch. “He’s a friend.” Why did that sound so strange coming off my tongue? Friend? Brock wasn’t just a friend, but I couldn’t define what he was to me. Whatever was going on between us couldn’t be defined.

It was better to get this over with before Brock did something stupid and reckless.

Dad gave Brock another long stare, assessing this guy he didn’t know and deciding whether or not he would let him into his house. “Five minutes. That’s all,” he finally conceded, stepping to the side to let Brock in.

Brock walked in, and instantly the room seemed smaller. My eyes devoured him, or what they could with the swelling. Once my gaze landed on him, I couldn’t look away.

Dad must have picked up on the vibe that something was going on between us. “I’ll give you guys a few minutes. I’ll just be in the other room.” He gave Brock one last glance, an unspoken warning passing to him—you hurt my daughter, I will hurt you.

Brock rounded the couch and flinched. The master of control and feelings struggled now to remain unaffected by my injuries. I’d seen myself in the mirror. I knew it looked bad. Really fucking bad. And over the next few days, it would get worse.

His jaw tightened, the muscles along his neck pulsing. He sat down on the old wood coffee table close to me, looking me up and down with a frown, which turned into a nasty scowl. Something like murder flashed in his eyes and then was gone in the next instant. “Wow, Firefly. You look like you walked into a wall. Repeatedly.”

“Fucking funny. What are you doing here?”

“You didn’t honestly believe I wouldn’t find you. When I heard what happened…” His voice went gruff.

“Everyone knows?” I asked, trying to decide how I felt about the entire Academy knowing Ava beat me to a bloody pulp. It was a tad damaging to my pride.

His next words were said with dark venom that caused a shiver to tiptoe along my spine. “I’m not just going to kill her. I’m going to torture her first. Izzy and Emily too.” When Brock made a threat like that, it was believable. Did I really think the Elite were capable of murder?

Yes.

The admission should have frightened me, and yet, it had the opposite effect. Having Brock close only filled me with security. No one would mess with me. It was those times I found myself alone that I got into trouble.

But also, screw that.

I refused to spend my life suction-cupped to a guy. I was not the girl who depended on a guy to keep her safe. I was fucking capable of doing it myself. Had done it my entire life. Brock was a magnificent lay, but I’d be damned if I stopped taking care of myself and leaned on him wholly. There had to be a balance. I had to be able to hold on to who I was. My identity could easily get swept up in the Elite if I weren’t careful.

“Not if I get to her first,” I replied, meaning every punch behind the threat. I hoped Ava, Izzy, and Emily had a few bruises of their own.

Leaning forward, he lifted his hand toward my face but then halted. “I’m so fucking sorry, Firefly. I should have seen this coming. I knew the bitch was crazy, but…”

You never know what a person is capable of. Ava showed Brock her true colors. I reached out and took his hand. “This isn’t your fault. I’m the one who ditched out on class. It was so stupid.” I could say that now, looking back.

“I wish I could’ve—”

“Wish you could’ve what?” I folded my arms and looked him up and down. “Wish you could’ve stopped it?”

He drew back, frowning. “Something like that.”

Tears filled my eyes and I hated them. I hated all the emotion welling up in me, burning me from the inside out.

I hated most of all the way I wanted him to make it better. Dangerous thoughts, leaning on someone else to make you happy, to take the pain away.

It wasn’t healthy. Nothing about us was normal.

And I needed to stop using Brock as a crutch. At some point, he wouldn’t be there for me to lean on. I didn’t need another toxic relationship in my life.

And yet, Brock didn’t feel destructive.

He felt… right.

He made me feel alive and safe. All the things I longed for.

“What happened?” he asked, his tone gentle despite the storm in his eyes. “The security guard detailing you got there too late.”

So that was who saved me. Any other time I would have ripped into Brock for having someone follow me. Today was the only exception. I explained about the phone and how Ava used it to trick me into meeting who I thought was Ainsley.

Brock made a sound of aversion in the back of his throat. “This smacks of Carter. I can’t help shake the feeling he is behind this, and Ava is his pawn.”

Besides being a cold bitch, I had to wonder… “What do you think he has on Ava?”

He scratched at the stubble under his chin. “A whole slew of shit. She is no angel. But I mean to find out.” He broke off with a curse. “It seems the harder I try to protect you, the more hurt you get. I promised Grayson you’d be safe and if there is one thing I’m not, it is a liar. She won’t touch you again. I’ll take care of everything.”

“That’s what scares me,” I admitted, picking at the tape securing the bandage around my wrist.

“You’re okay here?” he asked, his gaze intense.

“With my dad?” I nodded slowly. “Yeah, I think so.”

“After what happened, ‘I think so’ won’t cut it. Not anymore, Firefly. I won’t leave you unprotected.”

“I appreciate the gesture, I really do, and for letting me stay with you, but I need to be here.”

His gaze turned thoughtful. “Yeah, I get that, which is why I’m staying.”

I blinked and shook my head. He had not just said he was staying at my dad’s house. I had been kicked in the head too many times. “Excuse me?”

Brock cracked a grin for the first time since showing up. “You heard me.”

I lowered my voice as I replied, “I hate to be the one to tell you this, but there is no way my dad is going to let a guy stay in my room or his couch for that matter.”

He leaned in close to my ear. “Make it happen.”

For the love of God, this guy… he was fucking impossible. “Fine,” I conceded. “But you have to come back tonight. I’ll sneak you in, if you’re that concerned.”

“I like how your mind works, Firefly.” A butterfly kiss brushed over my ear and he pulled back with a satisfied expression.

“Like you gave me a choice,” I grumbled, telling myself those were not fireflies zooming around in my belly.

“Now that is settled…” He reached into the pocket of his pants and pulled out a set of car keys. My car keys. “I had your car dropped off just in case you need it once you feel better. I didn’t want you stranded without an escape.”

“Thank you.” And then I remembered. “Oh, I have Mads’s keys.”

“I’ll have someone get the car.” A few moments of silence passed between us. “Am I really just a friend, Firefly?”

His gaze ensnared mine, holding me captive. The heat in them flared up, or maybe it was just the temperature of my body. Either way, Brock had to stop staring at me like he wanted to join me on the couch and make me forget how much pain I was in.

How fitting.

Our relationship seemed based on us covering up our pain in each other.

“A-hem.” From behind me, Dad cleared his throat. Brock and I both jumped like we’d just been caught doing some heavy making out on the couch instead of just gazing at each other. Don’t get me wrong. It was some heavy-ass gazing.

“Josie,” Dad called from where he hovered in the hallway, his tone disapproving. “You need to rest.”

I carefully shifted on the couch so I could see my dad, moving with slow deliberate movements. “I have the whole week to rest,” I countered, not quite ready to see Brock leave, regardless of how tired I was. The doctor wrote me a pass to stay home from school for the remainder of the week.

Brock stood, and my heart sank. “He’s right, Josie. I should probably get going before the other guys decide to come see you themselves.”

“Other guys?” Dad echoed, his brows raised, arms crossed over his grunge band T-shirt.

“Friends, Dad. Chill,” I explained, groaning.

Brock glanced down at me. “You have a right to be cautious, but I don’t want to see your daughter hurt any more than she already is.” His gaze slid to where my dad still stood in the doorway, seriousness firmly rooted in his features.

My dad’s resolve didn’t waver. “Then you and I want the same thing. You might not have been involved, but I think it is best you stay away from my daughter.”

My mouth dropped. “Dad!” I protested. “You don’t know what you’re doing. It’s not Brock you should be worried about. Believe it or not, he is protecting me. I need him.”

Did those words actually come out of my mouth? Could this get any more embarrassing?

Fuckkk.

Color stained my cheeks but I kept my chin up, letting my father know how important this was to me. I guess also, how important Brock was to me.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

I was so falling in love with him.

Without an ounce of contrition, Brock replied, “I can’t do that.”

A hush fell over the house, my dad’s jaw set. I could see he was about to say something, but his attention and Brock’s were distracted as they both glanced in the same direction. Red and blue lights flashed through the drawn curtain hung over a large picture window that faced the front of the house, saving me from further awkwardness. Dad’s narrowed eyes went from the window to Brock and back to the window with accusations in his eyes.

Despite what my dad might be thinking, I knew there was no way in hell Brock would have called the police. “Did you call the cops?” I hurled at my father. Hurt and betrayal laced my voice.

“No, of course not,” he retorted, still staring at the window and the lights rotating through it.

I didn’t bother to ask Brock. Brock strutted to the window and peeked through a small crack in the curtain. “There is a squad car parked out front. Two officers are on their way up to the door.”

“I’ll handle this,” Dad said, striding toward the entryway.

The doorbell rang a moment later. Brock gave me a look, conveying a message. Don’t say anything. I’ll take care of this.

I rolled my one good eye, peeking over the back of the couch to the door.

Dad greeted the two policemen, the cuffs hooked to their belts clanging together. “Mr. James?” one of the officers prompted.

My fingers clutched onto the blanket as Dad answered, “Yes. Is there a problem?”

“That’s what we’re here to find out. Is that your Lexus in the driveway, sir?” the officer asked.

Dad angled his head slightly out the door, taking in the sight of the red Lexus parked in his driveway for the first time. “No.”

“Uh, Dad. It’s mine,” I said softly from the couch. “Brock dropped it off.” I deliberately left off confessing that the car had been parked at Brock’s house. He had driven me to school today, as he did most days.

“It was reported stolen by the owner an hour ago,” the shorter police officer informed.

My mouth dropped as the reason for their visit registered. An hour, huh? Not long after Dad had gotten off the phone with Angie.

That fucking bitch.

I couldn’t believe she’d stoop so low, especially after what happened to me.

Wait. Yes, I could.

And that was sad. So very sad.

Dread pitted in my stomach, disbelief twanging in my chest.

“You’re telling me my ex-wife reported our daughter’s car stolen?” Dad reiterated as if he too was shocked.

“We can’t release that information,” the other office stated.

Brock snorted, earning a scowl from everyone in the room, including the two cops.

One of them handed my dad the paperwork. “We’ll be taking the car into possession,” he informed as his walkie-talkie started sputtering information.

There went my chance at escape. Not that I wanted the car. Angie and Steven could have it.

Fuck them both.