Chapter 25: Briar

brIAR

"Briar boo!" Rory screeches at me as I enter Malachi's office. She launches herself at me and wraps me up in a tight hug. I wince slightly at the pressure against my bruised ribs and stitched skin.

"Let her go, Rory," Malachi orders. His voice vibrates with the same odd resonance as when he gave Bastian an order yesterday. Rory steps back and looks at Malachi in confusion. "She's hurt."

"What happened?" Rory asks me as she grabs my hands in her smaller ones.

"Um." I look to Malachi to see if he's told Ronan and Rory yet. He gives me a small shake of his head. Biting my lip, I try to decide what to say. Explaining like you'd rip off a Band-Aid seems like the best idea. I rush out, "My stepfather beat me."

"Excuse me, what?" Rory asks, outraged. "Your stepfather beats you?"

Dipping my chin in affirmation, I stare at the floor to avoid her gaze. I can't tell if she's upset at me or Patrick. Rory has every reason to be upset at me. Friends are supposed to share their lives with each other. I've been keeping Rory in the dark on a pretty big part of my life.

"What a cuntasaurus!" she exclaims. I snort out a laugh at her insult. "Is he dead? He better be dead, or I'm gonna kill that fuckface myself!"

"Whoa there, tiger," I tell her through a smile. "No, he's not dead, but you can't kill him."

"That's debatable," Xander whispers under his breath. I snap my head up to look at him, but he's staring at me impassively. I wonder if I imagined him saying it.

"Why not?" Rory questions. She's genuinely confused why we're not on our way to murder Patrick.

It would make my life a lot easier if he were gone, but I can't do that to Ava. She's already lost one parent. I won't be responsible for taking another one from her. "Because he's still my little sister's dad," I say with a sigh.

"Well, shit. What are you going to do?"

Ideally, I'd take Ava and run. But I can't do that until I get my trust fund. More likely, I'll just take the beatings to keep Ava safe until Patrick kills me. But I don't say that. "I don't know," I whisper.

"We'll figure it out together, honeybunches. Don't you worry!" Rory wraps me up in a gentle hug this time. Tears prick the corners of my eyes at Rory not only believing me but being willing to support me. "But first, lunch!"

Rory skips over to her twin, who's sitting in the middle of Malachi's sofa. She plops down on his right. The coffee table in front of the couch is filled with sandwiches, pasta, salads, and desserts. My mouth waters just looking at the display.

I follow Malachi over to the couch. He sits on Ronan's other side. Shifting from foot to foot, I wonder where I should sit as all the seating around the coffee table is taken. Malachi gives me a half smirk and pats his thigh. My eyebrows rise at that. He's delusional if he thinks I'm going to sit on his leg for lunch. I may have just spent a few hours on his lap, but I draw the line at sitting on him in front of his brothers and cousins.

I glare at Malachi. He smiles back at me, clearly enjoying my predicament.

As I'm getting ready to sit on the floor, Xander says, "You can take my seat, Briar." My gaze flicks up to his in surprise. Xander's the last Wyldhart brother I'd think would help me. I see him standing over his chair waiting for me to sit.

"Um, thanks," I say, eloquent as ever as I head over to the chair.

Xander's lips tip up at my awkwardness. That man shouldn't be allowed to smile. He looks too handsome for his own good when he does.

He drags a chair from Malachi's desk over to the coffee table. I groan that I didn't think of that. Xander pulls the chair right next to me before putting together a plate with a bit of everything on it and handing it to me. My eyes widen in surprise.

Since when is Xander nice to me?

I realize I'm still just staring at his outstretched arm like it's a massive, hairy tarantula. He's been holding his arm out at least thirty seconds, and I still haven't taken the plate. Ah, painful awkwardness, my old friend. I thought I might go a whole conversation with Xander without being completely weird. Better luck next time, champ.

Quickly grabbing the plate, I mumble, "Thanks."

As I eat, the Wyldharts and Ronan and Rory fall into easy conversation. The room fills with the sound of their laughter and playful banter. My cheeks hurt from smiling so much. They all include me in the conversation. I wonder if this is what it's like to have a big family. It's just Ava and me now that my mom's gone. We don't have any cousins or extended family, so I wouldn't know.

Once everyone's finished eating, Malachi stands and gathers everyone's plates. I hop up to help with clean up. We work efficiently, clearing the whole mess in a few minutes.

After we throw away all the trash, Malachi leans against his desk and gestures for me to step between his legs. I do, and he settles his hands on my waist. They fit perfectly on the top of my hips. I lean into his touch slightly, enjoying the almost burning warmth of his hands. "You good to go?"

"To class?" I ask, realizing I have no clue what time it is.

He gives me a half smile while shaking his head. "No, home. I canceled class."

"What?" I ask, voice getting higher in surprise. "Why?"

"I need to make sure you're okay. I wouldn't be able to focus on teaching when I'm worried about you."

His words send a swarm of butterflies fluttering in my stomach. Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I tell him quietly, "You didn't have to do that."

"I know. I wanted to," he informs me softly. His thumb strokes over my cheekbone while he speaks. "If you're ready to go, I wanted to swing by your house. You can pack a bag to stay with us."

I'm already shaking my head before he finishes speaking. "I said I'd stay with you for a night. I won't impose on you more than that."

"You're not imposing, baby girl, and we've been over this. You're staying with us until you can prove that you're safe at home."

I want to argue with Malachi. I'm getting way too attached to the Wyldharts. But if I'm being honest with myself, I don't want to stay in Patrick's house even if he's not home. It's lonely and depressing. Once I'm healed all the way, I'll insist on staying at Patrick's house. One more night won't hurt anything. I sigh. "Fine."

Malachi grins at me. "Great. Get your stuff, and we'll head out." I roll my eyes at his bossiness, but I do as he says.

Rory hops up as I reach the couch. She wraps me up in a careful hug. "Everything's going to be okay, girlie," she whispers as she squeezes me.

"Yeah," I say, not really believing it. I put on a brave smile for Rory because I hate anyone worrying about me. Her sad smile tells me I'm not doing a great job at hiding my feelings, but Rory doesn't push it.

We leave Wyldhart Hall as a group but split up once we're in the courtyard. Ronan and Rory head to the student/visitor lot, and the Wyldharts and I head to the faculty lot.

When we start driving toward Patrick's house, I realize a flaw in the plan. "Patrick might be home. I can survive without my things for another night."

"Patrick's away on business," Malachi informs me from the front seat.

My blood runs cold. "How do you know that?"

"I asked my dad."

"You said you wouldn't talk to him about Ava or me!" I yell in a shaky voice. The absolute last thing I need is getting on Valentine Wyldhart's radar. Patrick will also lose his shit if he finds out I'm hanging out with the Wyldharts, which means a beating for me.

Great.

"I didn't mention you, Briar. I just asked my dad who was on his business trip. He and Patrick are gone until Monday," Malachi attempts to reassure me. I deflate in my seat as Malachi talks. While I'm relieved he didn't mention me, I feel like a psycho for yelling at him.

No one says anything on the rest of the short car ride to Patrick's. I give Malachi the code to open the gates. As soon as he pulls the car to a stop in front of the front doors, I get out. I fast walk to the doors like I can out walk my embarrassment.

"Hold up, pretty girl!" Bastian shouts from behind me.

I groan as I stop and face Bastian. "I'm perfectly capable of getting stuff myself, you know."

"I know, but I like spending time with you," he tells me with a genuine grin. "I also want to snoop in your room."

I snort. He's not going to find anything. I'm not stupid enough to leave anything in my room that I don't want Patrick to find. I don't rain on his parade by telling him it's pointless, though.

When we reach the front doors, I pull them open and jog up to my room. I want to spend as little time in this house as possible.

The first order of business is changing into normal clothes. I head to my walk-in closet and close the door. Stripping out of my uniform, I pull on an old sweatshirt and my favorite black leggings. Ah, the sweet, sweet feel of leggings. They're like a hug for your legs. The best part is that I don't have to worry about flashing anyone like I do in a skirt.

After stuffing my dirty uniform in the hamper, I grab a duffle and fill it with my extra uniforms, a few long sleeves, and another pair of leggings. I throw in socks, undies, and bras. Slinging the bag over my shoulder, I scoop up my Nicks boots and head out to the main room. I'm a little nervous leaving Bastian unsupervised in my space for too long. What he could do, I don't know. I'm still wary, though.

I sit on the cream upholstered bench at the foot of my bed and put on my boots. While I'm lacing them up, I hear Bastian snort. I look up and find him staring at my poster collection over my desk, and I grin. My posters are one of my favorite parts of my room—not that I have much decoration to choose from. My room's pretty barren, but that's not the point.

The posters say inspirational things like:

Live, Laugh, Lurk

Be the Weird You Wish to See in the World

Embrace Your Inner Emu

"I like your posters," Bastian says between laughs. "Especially the ‘Unhinged Vibes Only' and ‘Choose Chaos' ones. Where'd you get 'em?"

"I made them." It's not like Patrick gave me money to decorate. If I wanted my room to have any decor, I had to make it myself.

"Really? That's dope!"

I smile at his praise. "I'm ready to go whenever."

"Cool beans." Bastian strides over to my bag and slings it over his shoulder. I raise my brows, and he grins at me in response. Grabbing my hand in his, he walks us back out to the car. This is probably the most I've smiled in Patrick's house since my mom died.