Chapter 7

Prism

Bright artificial lightflooded the darkness, a far crueler wakeup than any five-a.m. swim practice would ever be. I didn’t have time to grouse or protest because the sudden buzz of fluorescent bulbs had my eyes flying open as if it were gunshots.

I sprang up, dislodging the anchor at my waist, stumbling and squinting as I made it to my feet. Cold air wrapped around me, a far different kind of hug than the warmth I’d been wrapped in all night. Spinning around, I blinked at the cot and at the shirtless man lying on top of it.

Stunned, I realized I’d actually slept last night instead of spiraling until my body gave out. I fell asleep in his arms with his whisper in my ear.

I wasn’t sure how that made me feel other than it was definitely some type of way. Trying to decide which way was cut short when the door down the hall opened.

For some reason, nerves hijacked my insides, serving up a jittery feeling that was usually reserved for too many espressos. Honestly, coffee sounded hella good right now.

I was pretty sure they turned off the heat with the lights last night because this cell was frigid AF. Maybe that’s why I made it through the night. My brain froze and couldn’t continue its disorderly conduct.

As if the thought were somehow a betrayal, I glanced back to Arsen, the actual reason I slept and didn’t freeze to death last night. He was no longer on the cot, instead standing in front of it, tugging on the black T-shirt he’d taken off for me to lie on.

I caught a flash of black ink, but it was gone before I could look the way I wanted.

He’s got tattoos.

Footfalls echoed down the concrete hall, causing my back muscles to lock up as if they were readying for battle.

Arsen stepped into my line of sight, pushing at his inky hair while sweeping a stare over me. “I’ll do all the talking.”

I started to tell him he could get bent when he jabbed a finger in the air between us. “And do not punch anyone,” he warned me quietly.

“I’m about to punch you,” I muttered.

The asshole laughed.

“Well, well,” a uniformed officer I didn’t recognize mused as he stepped up to the cell. “Look at these two little jailbirds. You gonna sing for your freedom?”

“We aren’t saying anything until my lawyer gets here,” Arsen replied, tone even.

His lawyer?

“You rich types are all the same.” The officer sounded disappointed, as if he’d been hoping for more of a reaction. Drawing a set of keys from his belt, he made a show of trying to find the right one for our cell.

The longer he stalled, the more the keys clanked together and the tighter I locked my jaw. I was much better than last night, but my nerves were still raw, patience worn near see-through. I was also beginning to worry he wasn’t actually going to unlock this door, just taunting us to give us hope.

Arsen stepped closer to me, his arm briefly brushing mine. He was so much warmer than me, and it caused goose bumps to scatter across my skin.

The door to the cell screeched open, the noise like nails on a chalkboard. “Let’s go,” the officer ordered.

I started forward, more than willing to get the hell out of here, but Arsen caught the back of my shirt and pulled me back so he could step around me. He went forward, the grip on my shirt lightening to just his palm resting against my lower back as he guided me along with him.

We exited the cell at the same time, with Arsen angling his body to the side. It was not lost on me that he kept himself between me and the cop, and I gave him an annoyed look.

He winked like my annoyance was somehow charming, and damn, if my stomach didn’t flutter.

I need to get the hell out of here.

The officer led us out into the front of the station where people milled about, phones rang, and the scent of coffee overpowered literally everything.

The second the heavy door shut behind us, a familiar voice filled the room. “There he is,” Kruger half shouted. I looked up just as he shoved out of a metal chair against the wall. “Bro, I’ve been sweatier than a snowman in July,” he swore, rushing forward.

His shoes squeaked against the linoleum when someone grabbed him by his hoodie and yanked him back.

“What’d I tell you, Kruger? Take a seat.”

Surprise widened my eyes. “Coach?”

He pushed Kruger toward the chairs and came forward, his stubbled jaw set, eyes hard, and his beloved whistle bouncing between his pecs with every step he took.

I was so surprised to see him here that I didn’t react when he grabbed my face to give me a shake. “You okay, son?” he asked, the glint in his eyes turning into worry… and something else I didn’t like. “Why didn’t you tell me? You should have told me. I’m your coach.”

My lips parted, but no words came out. Instead, my stare flew over his shoulder to Kruger who was standing just behind him. “You told him?”

“I had to do it, P. You can be mad. I’ll grovel. You don’t belong in the slammer. Please tell me you didn’t have some cellmate named Chex. Please tell me he didn’t stare at you when you pissed.”

“Go sit down,” Coach snapped over his shoulder. “If brains were taxed, you’d get a refund.” His eyes fixed back on my face, hands giving me another shake. “They treat you okay in here?”

For reasons I didn’t understand, my stare shifted to where I knew Arsen was standing. Because Coach was still gripping my head, my eyes strained to the side, trying to look at him. Coach let go, and the rest of me turned toward him.

“I’m okay,” I told them. “I wasn’t alone.”

Arsen’s eyes met mine, and something passed between us, something that rose above everything else going on in this room. Something that made me feel… tethered.

No. Don’t get attached.

“You were with him all night?” Kruger pushed around Coach to step up to Arsen. “You kept an eye on him, right? He’s okay?”

I made a sound.

“You didn’t answer me, P. I’m talking to Arsen now.”

Arsen glanced back at me before settling all his attention on my best friend. Irritation slithered up my spine, and I realized I was jealous. I wanted Arsen’s attention.

“He looks okay, doesn’t he?” Arsen replied to Kruger.

“He’s good at looking okay. I want the truth.”

I sucked in a breath, suddenly panicked Arsen would flap his lips and tell everyone standing around just how not okay I was last night. I didn’t want anyone to know. Hell, I hated Arsen had seen me like that—at my lowest. But I’d been too far out of my element. I couldn’t pretend.

Arsen shifted but didn’t spare me another glance. “Truth is it was a pretty boring night considering we spent it in jail. No one named Chex in sight.”

Kruger let out a rough exhale and pivoted, crashing into me and wrapping his arms around my back in a tight hug. His hand patted my shoulder blade aggressively as he squeezed. “I was fucking worried,” he confessed near my ear. “Thought about committing a crime just to get in there with you.”

You didn’t need to because Arsen did.

“I’m okay,” I assured him, patting his back a lot less violently. “I’m glad you didn’t. My sister needs you.”

“Bro,” he said, pulling back but gripping my arms with his hands. His two-toned eyes had deep shadows beneath them, his face was pale, and his hair was wrecked. “You do too, and the only reason I didn’t go hold up a convenience store was so I could bail you out.”

“Thanks for coming,” I whispered. For being my family.

“Bro, I never left.”

Confused, I asked, “What?”

He nodded. “They said no visitors, so I slept in the parking lot,” he said, thumbing over his shoulder toward the entrance. “First sign of trouble, I was coming in.”

Maybe it was because my nerves were frayed. Maybe it was the vulnerability I’d been forced to show Arsen last night. Or maybe I was just scared about my pending drug and assault charges. But knowing my brother had literally slept in the parking lot because he cared had my eyes watery and chest tight.

Without even thinking, I hugged him again, squeezing him so tight I knew it probably hurt. He didn’t complain, though, just let me hug it out.

When I pulled back, I avoided his gaze, only looking up when he shrugged out of the navy hoodie he was wearing, the same one he had on last night. Before I could ask what he was doing, he thrust it at me. “Here. If you get any colder, I’m gonna have to get a cop to tase you.”

I shook my head, about to refuse.

“I can see your nipples,” Kruger deadpanned.

I put the hoodie on, and the body heat still in the fabric melted some of the worst tension in my muscles. “Thanks,” I murmured, suddenly exhausted.

“Bro, sure,” he said, slapping me on the shoulder.

“Now, about the charges.” Coach’s voice rang with authority as he turned to look at the detective who had been here last night. “I want them dropped.”

“I’m afraid it’s not going to be that easy,” the detective replied coolly.

And just like that, any relief I felt from being let out of that cell evaporated with the knowledge they might force me back.