RYAN
Ten minutes ago, I left practice and found her gone. While I stood here losing my mind, deciding what to do, Beth was out having fun with her friends. I panicked, wondering if I should call Scott, the police, my dad. I imagined Scott’s grief and thought about how angry my father would be when he learned I lost the niece of our town hero.
Mostly, I worried about Beth. Terrified someone took her. Praying she wasn’t hurt or scared. Now I feel like a fool.
A few minutes ago, they pulled in and now Beth argues with the overrated tattooed punk I’ve seen before. I don’t dare move a muscle, because I’m terrified I’ll rip every single black hair out of Beth’s head. Planting myself firmly next to my Jeep, I watch as Beth and her punked-out friend continue their heated discussion.
Beth played me like I’ve never been played before. I made a terrible mistake. I tried to like her. Screw Beth. Let her tank her life. She agreed to go to the party with me Friday. I won the dare. Deal done.
Beth bolts from the shitty car.
“Beth!” Tattoo Guy snags her by her belt loop. “You’re not leaving. Not like this.”
I flinch, but force myself to stay still. She wants this guy. She left me to be with him.
“Then keep the promise you made to me, Isaiah. Take me. Tonight.” Her eyes search him and the desperation clawing at her face makes watching the scene uncomfortable. Whatever answer she’s looking for, he doesn’t have. He turns his head away with his eyes cast down. The other guy closes his door to the car and slowly approaches them, yet keeps his distance.
Great, I’m back to the odds of two against one. That is, if I cared enough to step in. Which I don’t.
Isaiah glances at the other guy. “You always said you wanted a home and now you’ve got one.”
Beth blinks. “Not this home.”
I straighten. The attitude that makes her larger than life evaporates. She’s small. Very small. Especially when standing in front of two menacing guys. Not only does she appear small, but she seems very…lost.
“Wait until you graduate. Just a couple more months. Noah and I talked and…”
With the name Noah, Beth’s head jerks and anger blazes from her blue eyes. “You promised.”
“Beth.” The other guy, who I’m guessing must be Noah, uses a calm tone that even I know will send her over the edge. “You belong in Groveton.”
In a flash of black, Beth races over to Noah. Her hand darts out, and she strikes him across the face. The sound echoes against the walls of the warehouse. Beth’s chest heaves as she gasps for air. “Fuck you.”
I push off the Jeep. What the hell? Noah gingerly touches his cheek, then inclines his head as if to release tension. “I was starting to feel left out after your little show back at the apartment complex.”
“This is your fault!” she screams. “You and Echo and your new life. You turned Isaiah against me because you’re too scared to be real. You want to be fake. Just like your girl.”
Tattoo Guy—Isaiah—places his hand on Beth’s arm and yanks her away from Noah. Hell no. Punk or no punk, a girl is in serious trouble if she hits a guy, and a guy should never touch a girl. My fingers tighten into a ball as I stalk over. “Get away from her.”
“Groveton,” Isaiah says as he ignores me. “With your uncle. That is exactly where you need to be.” He points south, away from Louisville, toward home. “That world can give you what I can’t. Not now. Just wait until graduation.”
“If you meant what you said,” she says in a low growl, “you’ll keep your promise now.”
A dark shadow seems to encompass the guy and I quicken my pace. “I said get away from her.” My heart pounds in my chest. Two against one. The odds are bad, but I’ll take them.
“Don’t you dare throw that in my face,” Isaiah says to her, then rips his stare from Beth to focus on me. “This doesn’t involve you, man, so fuck off.”
“The hell it doesn’t. She came here with me and she’s going home with me. Anything that happens to her in between is my business.”
He angles his body toward me. “You say that like she’s yours.”
“Isaiah,” Beth whispers. “Don’t.”
With only two feet between us, I take another step with every muscle prepared for a fight. “She became mine the moment you laid a hand on her.”
He closes the gap and we’re standing toe-to-toe. His face inches from mine. Anger pulsates from his body. “She’s not yours. She’s mine and I don’t like how you treat her.”
A petite arm slides between our bodies. “Isaiah,” says Beth. “Let it go.”
“How I treat her?” Is this guy high? “She doesn’t seem to want you.”
“Ryan, stop, please.” I’ve never heard Beth plead before and I want to look at her and confirm those words actually fell out of her mouth, but I don’t dare. I keep solid eye contact with the asshole in front of me.
An insane smile tugs at his lips. “You think she wants you? Is that what you think? That you’re some type of real man because you torture her at school? Because you spill her secrets? Because you humiliate her? You think she wants a guy that makes her cry?”
“Isaiah!” yells Beth.
His arm snaps back and so does mine. A large figure surges from my left and instead of the hit I’m prepared to take as I throw, Noah pushes Isaiah into a car. “Back off, bro.”
“How could you!” I expect to see Beth’s frigid, accusing stare in my direction. Instead, it’s fixed on Isaiah. Her entire body shakes and she rubs her left arm with her right hand. A continuous motion over and over again. “How could you tell him that?”
Isaiah blinks and the anger drains out of him. “Beth…”
She rushes to the Jeep. “Let’s go.”
She doesn’t have to tell me twice. I shove the keys in the ignition before I shut the door and roar out of the parking lot. Hitting the freeway, I click on my seat belt as Beth rests her head against the passenger window.
I search for the anger I felt earlier and try to find a way to blame her. She was the one that left. She was the one that spent time with those two guys. But the only thought turning in my brain is the accusation Isaiah spat at me: I make her cry.