Fall Guy (A Youngblood Book) by Reinhardt, Liz (knowledgeable books to read TXT) 📕

it. The moon rises. Evan sleeps soundly in my arms, and the weight of her in them marks the first time I've held my responsibility close and didn't feel crushed by it. The weight of taking care of her is the kind of weight that will make me stronger. I know it.

Remy's ringtone only breaks the silence once, in the dead of the night. I watch the screen glow bright while the song plays out, and wait for a second or third or twentieth call, but no more come through, which means one of two things; Remy is dead or he was calling because he knows I said not to and wanted to find some way to tell me to fuck off.

I would bet everything I own on the latter.

Douchebag.

In the early, breaking dawn, my phone rings again, and this time, I'm surprised to see the ringtone is Ithaca's. I almost don't recognize the soulful croon of some emo or goth or whatever the hell she's listening to nowadays. It's crazy how much older she's getting all the time. Seems like she was just toddling around the other day, her tiny fist clamped hard around my finger for support.

I manage to slide Evan onto the pillow without waking her and grab the phone, pulling my pants on with one hand while I answer.

"What's up, kid?"

"Winch?" Ithaca's voice is trembly and upset. Dread coats my entire stomach like thick ice. "Um, where are you?"

"Wherever you need me to be. Tell me where to go and you can explain while I'm on the way."

I plug one ear so I can hear her over the crash of the waves. The sliding door opens, and Evan steps out, rumpled and so damn gorgeous, it takes my breath away. She's wearing my t-shirt and a tiny pair of underwear, and even in the midst of Ithaca's crisis, I feel a pull for her so strong it floors me.

Remy? she mouths in my direction, her face controlled and neutral, but I shake my head and mouth back, Ithaca.

She holds up one finger, her blue eyes wide, and whirls back into the house. I'm trying to listen to Ithaca's jittery, broken story, told through a few rounds of disjointed sobs, but all I really care about is the address and getting there as fast as possible. My little sister never cries, and, as bad as any girl's tears rip me up, hers are a swift kick to the back of my knees.

Evan runs back out with my wallet and her purse, her dress thrown on and my shirt shoved at me. She drops my shoes at my feet, and we run to the car. I feel a relief like I've never known.

Truth to be told, even though I've faced down hurking guys and beat the piss out of them, every single time my family gets into shit, I’m gripped with a fear I'm embarrassed to fess up to. I have no clue what's going to happen when I get to Ithaca's fancy-ass private school. The thought that I might find her hurt or helpless fills makes my heart arrest in my chest.

But, for the first time, I don't have to face all this on my own. I have Evan, cool as a fucking cucumber, setting up the GPS and asking if she needs to make any calls for me.

"I don't know." I do a quick scan for early-bird cops, and decide to take my chances and floor it. She doesn't bat a gorgeous eyelash. "Ithaca is at her school, but it's early. I don't think there are any teachers or anything. I have no fucking idea what's going on. All I know is that she's panicked and she needs me."

Evan's nod is quick and tight. "We'll be there in no time. She's gonna be okay."

It may be a load of horseshit, but it's all I need to hear. I focus on driving. Evan is silent, but when I glance over, her face is determined, and I love that. I love the fight in her.

I'm barely stopped in the fancy ass parking lot when Evan leaps out and we both run, instinctively, to the area behind the sports fields, where it's slightly wooded and overgrown. It’s the only place that's shielded from adult eyes, so the only place a bunch of kids would go and manage to get in trouble without being seen right away.

The sound of fists pounding into faces is familiar enough to close my throat down. I leap through the brush and find a small group of young, preppy guys beating the piss out of each other. My idiot sister keeps jumping into the fray, only to get pushed back out by one of the cursing, bruised fighters.

Evan immediately grabs Ithaca, hooks her arms around her elbows and drags her, crying and screaming, away from the fight.

I rip two of the guys apart and hold them at arm's length. I could bench press the two of them together, but they're full of raging testosterone and adrenaline, so I get punched in the shoulder and kicked in the shin pretty damn hard before I manage to calm either one down.

"What the hell is going on?" I yell.

Three guys back up to the side that one of the hulking, growling toughnuts is on. The other guy, quieter, his face badly bruised, not wearing a pretty uniform, wipes a long trickle of blood from under his nose.

The private school boy starts mouthing off immediately. "This fucking punk--"

I shake the little jerk by the scruff of his neck. "Watch your damn mouth. Start over, and this time put that fancy education to work and use real words."

His dark eyes drop, some of the bravado gone from his whole act.

"Sorry, uh, sir." It must occur to him that he could be in deep shit, because he starts to wise up and use his manners real quick. "This, eh, he...I caught this guy prowling around my house the other night. There've