15. Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen

Skyla

T he next morning, I woke up in my bed beneath Vincent, with Ronan and Liam on either side of us. No one was touching, by only a few inches. If sleepovers are going to be a regular thing, I'm going to need a bigger bed.

When we all eventually got up and ready for the day, Asher was noticeably absent from the house. I'm not sure if he left last night and didn't come home, or if he left early this morning. Either way, I couldn't really care less.

Wesley came and picked me up for class, despite Liam and Vincent's insistence that they could drive me. It only took one look from Ronan to know what he was thinking. That's not a good idea.

It's become clear to us all, that Wesley is more than aware of our…situation, and so there really is no hiding it at this point. If he wants to tell Christopher or someone else at the Brethren, well, we're already dead.

One by one, each of the guys kiss me before getting into their own cars. Wesley holds the door open for me, not saying a word as I slip into the black SUV. Well, he doesn't say a word for a mile or two before he finally speaks.

"So…all of them?"

I look up to meet his eyes in the rear-view mirror.

"Yes."

He nods but doesn't say anything else for several seconds.

"They're all cool with it?"

My head tips back and forth. I'm not sure you could say Vincent is ‘cool' with it; more like he's tolerating it. Same could be said for Ronan, though maybe not as extreme.

"Some more than others," I say with a shrug.

Wesley lets out a short chuckle.

"They treat you well though, right?"

I can't stop the smile that spreads across my face. I nod my head, remembering how all the guys rubbed me last night when we were tucked in bed. Each wanting their hands on me before they all woke me up, peppering kisses down my body.

"Very," I smile.

"Good," he says, his eyes staying on mine in the rear-view mirror for half a beat.

There is a heaviness in the car, something I can't quite name. Before I have a chance to overthink it though, we're at Gallows Hill, and he's putting the car in park. He gets out quickly, opening my door as I dip my head in thanks.

"Have a great day," he says with a tight, yet friendly, smile.

"You too," I say with a small smile, before heading through the courtyard.

I meet up with Liam and Maggie in class, noticing that Andrew isn't here today. That's kind of odd. He's usually always here; the guy must have perfect attendance or something.

I have a few tests that I, unfortunately, am not very prepared for. Dating three men has severely cut into my study time. Ask me if I regret how I spend my time, though.

At lunch, everyone keeps a wide berth, and I didn't even see a dirty look come from Bridgette or her friends. They keep their eyes on their plates and far away from Maggie, me and Liam.

I haven't seen Asher today. I'm honestly wondering if he even came to school today when a commotion sounds from outside. A massive group of people begin filing out of the dining hall and into the courtyard. Liam and I trade curious looks when we overhear someone say, "Oh shit, it's Asher Putnam."

Our eyes widen at the same time before we are up and out of our seats, rushing outside to see what's going on. I didn't know what to expect, but it definitely wasn't this.

Asher is beating the shit out of a guy who is a few inches shorter than him and at least forty pounds lighter. A broken bottle of scotch is at Asher's feet, and it only takes me two seconds and one stumble of his to piece this together.

He's drunk off his ass.

When Asher winds back to swing on the guy he misses, stumbling a few more feet before he rights himself, delivering a swift kick to the guy's bent over face. I jerk like the hit landed on me, as teeth go flying across the courtyard, making soft little sounds as they scatter.

"Gonna threaten mys wife!" Asher slurs, his voice amazingly loud for how sloppy it is. "Fucking kills youz!"

One more hit to the jaw and the guy falls to the ground in a heap, a drunken Asher spinning around to face the audience he has suddenly gained.

"Whose next?" he snarls, his balance only wavering slightly. "No one believes me when I say things. When I says that I'llz fucking kill anyone who threatens my wifes, they'll fucking dies!"

Vincent seems to appear out of thin air, taking a spot right beside me as Liam looks to him. Liam pushes me into Vincent, like he's passing me off, before he forces his way through the crowd.

Asher bends down, grabbing the broken scotch bottle. He lifts it up to stab the guy on the ground when Liam's hand catches his wrist, whispering something into his ear. It takes a moment, but Asher's drunken eyes land on mine, his brows furrowing before he drops the bottle.

The intact glass shatters at his feet, but he doesn't seem to care; instead, his eyes stay on mine, like he's waiting for me. Maybe it's stupid, no it's definitely stupid, but I walk towards him.

He doesn't deserve my sympathy, my kindness, and he sure as hell doesn't deserve my forgiveness. For some reason though, I find myself beside him cupping his bloodied cheek softly.

I'm unable to tell if it's Asher's blood or not, either way, it doesn't really matter.

"Let's go, Ash. Please," I ask softly.

He squeezes his eyes tight, murmuring to himself as he nods.

"Fucksing love it when youz call me that."

"Come on," I say gently, trying to pull him with me.

It doesn't take much to get him to follow. Whether that's due to his completely intoxicated state or his willingness to comply with me, I'm not sure. My hand moves from his face to his hand, squeezing it tightly as his hazy brown eyes come to mine. I give him a reassuring smile as I tug on his arm, his feet stumbling after me as I pull him away.

Liam is to his left, watching him closely and prepared to catch him if needed. It takes a little while, but we finally make our way through the crowd and down the courtyard. I give Liam a concerned glance, like I don't know where to go, before he nods to the pool hall.

Once again, Vincent comes out of nowhere. I didn't even know he was following us before he opens the door.

"Thanks," I say to him softly.

He nods at Liam, and I help Asher inside. As luck would have it, we run straight into Ronan, who immediately scans us with concern when he takes a look at his nephew.

"What happened? What's going on?"

"Asher beat the shit out of Richard Knox. I'm not sure what kind of damage control we are looking at, he's piss drunk," Liam says.

"Jesus Christ," Ronan mutters before he clutches Asher's arm, pulling him towards the pool.

Asher tries to fight him off, but Ronan snaps at him.

"Knock it off and get in the fucking locker room. NOW."

Surprisingly, Asher concedes, and we follow as Ronan all but drags Asher to the locker room. When we get there, he throws Asher against one of the walls before turning on the shower head. Ice cold water begins soaking Asher from head to toe. I jump out of the way of the backsplash as Ronan keeps the shower head on him.

Asher gasps at the cold water, attempting to wipe it from his eyes and move out of the stall. Unfortunately for him, Vincent is there, pushing him back against the wall as Ronan continues to hose him down. Liam comes to stand beside me, a hot cup of what smells like black coffee in his hand, before Ronan finally stops the water, allowing Asher to slide down the wall and sit on the floor.

He sits there for several seconds, just staring at the water trailing down the drain before his bloodshot eyes look up at us. My mouth is pinched in concern, though I hate myself for having any level of concern for him, if I'm honest.

Liam offers Asher the cup of coffee, and he pushes it away before I speak.

"Please," I ask softly.

Those brown eyes snap up to mine, holding my gaze for several seconds before he nods. He grabs the cup from Liam's outstretched hand, taking small sips of it. It only takes a minute or so before Asher is on his hands and knees, retching the contents of his stomach onto the floor.

Ronan quickly moves to get a trash can, shoving it under his face as Asher heaves and groans repeatedly. When he has nothing left to throw up, he rests his head against the side of the can. I watch him with pity, unsure of what to say or do as Ronan, Liam, and Vincent begin talking amongst themselves.

At least an hour goes by with the same recycled pattern. Asher drinks more coffee and then pukes before attempting more coffee and puking some more. Finally, he begins to appear at least a little more sober. His clothes are sopping wet, but his hair is already starting to dry and there is more focus to his gaze when he looks up at me.

My phone rings in my hand, and I frown when I see Wesley's name across it.

"Hello?"

"I'm here to pick you up," he says, the typical friendly tone in his voice noticeably absent.

I glance at the clock before shaking my head.

"I still have a few more hours before I'm done for the day."

"No, I was sent to pick you and Asher up…by Christopher," he says, his name sounding just as foreboding on Wesley's tongue as it feels to my ears.

"Now?" I ask, cringing when I look to see Ronan trying to help Asher into fresh clothes.

"Now."