Denton didn’t say anything, but he looked devastated as he heard his little sister’s illogical ramblings. It was almost as if his worst fear had come to life before his eyes, he’d fought so hard, and it had still happened.
“It wasn’t even like that, Mena,” I spoke up. “He just didn’t want you….to become like me.”
“I…,” Denton spoke up. “You’d been fascinated with her for so long, Mena, and I knew that you wanted to be like Sheldon, but…you can’t handle her life. She’s tough, she’s…”
I stepped closer and added, “Not who your brother wants you to become.”
Denton flashed a grateful look in my direction as he said further, “I just…wanted you to be you, Mena. You have a hard time doing that. With all the therapy and meds, I was just worried that you’d cling to someone’s world that wouldn’t be the most healthy for you.”
“I’m not sick, Denton.”
“Yes, you are!” He swallowed tightly, but said again, “You are sick and you have to go back to the group home.”
“Denton!” Mena cried out, horrified.
He’d spilled the secret. I saw the instant horror and regret that flashed in Denton, but it was already said. They were words he couldn’t take back.
Bryce rounded the corner that moment and quickly found me.
Denton shifted back a step.
And Chad instantly readied for a fight.
Mena didn’t see any of it. I could see that her brother’s voice still sounded in her head.
And then Bryce grasped my arm and said quietly, “Let’s go.”
CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT
Bryce yanked me behind him and we slipped through the garage, through the opened door that shouldn’t have been opened. Corrigan found us that instant and called out from the other doorway I usually took into the house, “Hey, we got something.”
Corrigan led the way, Bryce followed behind, and I was about to step through until I found myself blinking at Denton’s face.
He hauled me back, slammed the door, and locked it tight.
Bryce and Corrigan both shouted instantly and pounded at the door.
“Denton,” I said quietly.
He ignored me and called through, “I just want to talk. That’s it. You can have her back in ten minutes, okay?”
The door that connected the garage to the door rattled and then the fists abruptly stopped.
“They’re going to my car to get my garage-door opener,” I murmured.
Denton swore and raked a hand through his movie star hairstyle.
“What is up with them? They’re so protective of you.”
“Mmm,” I cocked an eyebrow. “Kinda like an…older brother?” Except Bryce wasn’t. And Corrigan wasn’t….not really.
I was going to stop thinking about that.
“Whatever. They’re obsessed,” Denton dismissed, irritated.
“They’re being my friends,” I pointed out.
“I get that Mohawk guy. Mena said that he’s your boyfriend or something like that.”
“He was not happy to see you last night.”
“I figured that out when I was shoved out the door.” Denton sighed and leaned beside me against my mom’s Chrysler.
“Well…to be fair…you did interrupt something pretty intense that night,” I mused with a small thrill as I remembered the rest of that night.
“Look…” And the reason for his sudden arrival was about to be announced.
I held on with no excitement, I had no room for that anymore. “What do you want?” I asked flatly.
Denton grinned and ran another hand through his hair.
“If you have a pretty gala for tonight, you’re going to have to call your hairstylist again. Your hair’s gone dead.”
Denton grinned again, but shook his head. “I didn’t come—you make it so easy to flirt and I just instinctually want to hit on you.”
“Free champagne, right?” I teased and I knew a sparkle shone in my eyes. I liked being called champagne. I made a note to remind Bryce of that fact, just not who made the reference.
“No, I came because of Mena.”
“Where is she?”
“She’s at home. I think most of their friends took off.”
Wow. They really had come to vandalize the house, not to kill anyone. Shocker, but not a relief.
Denton started, warily, exhausted, “I’m…the truth was that she left a group home because she turned eighteen. They thought she was good enough to come home, but I wasn’t too sure about that. I made the mistake of telling her about our neighbor, about the ‘free champagne’ that I got that night and…Mena just grabbed that, I don’t know. I don’t know why. She just…I mean, you and me—that happened awhile ago, you know, but Mena idolized you for so long. She thought you were cool, sophisticated, and suave. You name anything worth aspiring for and you were it for her. She got a picture of you and that sealed the deal. She was coming home and she was going to be friends with Sheldon Jeneve.”
“What’s wrong with her?”
“There’s nothing really wrong with her, but…she witnessed some trauma when she was younger and I think it altered who she grew up to be. Mix in some fancy neurotransmitter language and poof—the psychiatrists gave us a handy mental diagnosis for her.”
“What is it?”
“Does it matter?” Denton asked, more to himself than towards me. He shook his head, saddened, “It’s just a label that she got slapped with. That’s all the therapists look at for them to figure her out, but…she’s more than some psychological assessment that was dictated by some graduate intern.”
“I think if I got my assessment done, they’d say I’m a psychopath,” I remarked, dryly.
Denton laughed and shook his head, “No. You’re fine. You just have trust issues.”
“Is that my problem? My only problem? I thought I was just a bitch. Is that a mental disorder? They can write progress reports on me.”
His laugh was genuine as he tipped his head back.
It brought a smile to my face.
“See,” Denton pointed out. “This is why I want to hit on you and why I want to take you into the backseat of this car and peel down your—”
“It wasn’t even like that, Mena,” I spoke up. “He just didn’t want you….to become like me.”
“I…,” Denton spoke up. “You’d been fascinated with her for so long, Mena, and I knew that you wanted to be like Sheldon, but…you can’t handle her life. She’s tough, she’s…”
I stepped closer and added, “Not who your brother wants you to become.”
Denton flashed a grateful look in my direction as he said further, “I just…wanted you to be you, Mena. You have a hard time doing that. With all the therapy and meds, I was just worried that you’d cling to someone’s world that wouldn’t be the most healthy for you.”
“I’m not sick, Denton.”
“Yes, you are!” He swallowed tightly, but said again, “You are sick and you have to go back to the group home.”
“Denton!” Mena cried out, horrified.
He’d spilled the secret. I saw the instant horror and regret that flashed in Denton, but it was already said. They were words he couldn’t take back.
Bryce rounded the corner that moment and quickly found me.
Denton shifted back a step.
And Chad instantly readied for a fight.
Mena didn’t see any of it. I could see that her brother’s voice still sounded in her head.
And then Bryce grasped my arm and said quietly, “Let’s go.”
CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT
Bryce yanked me behind him and we slipped through the garage, through the opened door that shouldn’t have been opened. Corrigan found us that instant and called out from the other doorway I usually took into the house, “Hey, we got something.”
Corrigan led the way, Bryce followed behind, and I was about to step through until I found myself blinking at Denton’s face.
He hauled me back, slammed the door, and locked it tight.
Bryce and Corrigan both shouted instantly and pounded at the door.
“Denton,” I said quietly.
He ignored me and called through, “I just want to talk. That’s it. You can have her back in ten minutes, okay?”
The door that connected the garage to the door rattled and then the fists abruptly stopped.
“They’re going to my car to get my garage-door opener,” I murmured.
Denton swore and raked a hand through his movie star hairstyle.
“What is up with them? They’re so protective of you.”
“Mmm,” I cocked an eyebrow. “Kinda like an…older brother?” Except Bryce wasn’t. And Corrigan wasn’t….not really.
I was going to stop thinking about that.
“Whatever. They’re obsessed,” Denton dismissed, irritated.
“They’re being my friends,” I pointed out.
“I get that Mohawk guy. Mena said that he’s your boyfriend or something like that.”
“He was not happy to see you last night.”
“I figured that out when I was shoved out the door.” Denton sighed and leaned beside me against my mom’s Chrysler.
“Well…to be fair…you did interrupt something pretty intense that night,” I mused with a small thrill as I remembered the rest of that night.
“Look…” And the reason for his sudden arrival was about to be announced.
I held on with no excitement, I had no room for that anymore. “What do you want?” I asked flatly.
Denton grinned and ran another hand through his hair.
“If you have a pretty gala for tonight, you’re going to have to call your hairstylist again. Your hair’s gone dead.”
Denton grinned again, but shook his head. “I didn’t come—you make it so easy to flirt and I just instinctually want to hit on you.”
“Free champagne, right?” I teased and I knew a sparkle shone in my eyes. I liked being called champagne. I made a note to remind Bryce of that fact, just not who made the reference.
“No, I came because of Mena.”
“Where is she?”
“She’s at home. I think most of their friends took off.”
Wow. They really had come to vandalize the house, not to kill anyone. Shocker, but not a relief.
Denton started, warily, exhausted, “I’m…the truth was that she left a group home because she turned eighteen. They thought she was good enough to come home, but I wasn’t too sure about that. I made the mistake of telling her about our neighbor, about the ‘free champagne’ that I got that night and…Mena just grabbed that, I don’t know. I don’t know why. She just…I mean, you and me—that happened awhile ago, you know, but Mena idolized you for so long. She thought you were cool, sophisticated, and suave. You name anything worth aspiring for and you were it for her. She got a picture of you and that sealed the deal. She was coming home and she was going to be friends with Sheldon Jeneve.”
“What’s wrong with her?”
“There’s nothing really wrong with her, but…she witnessed some trauma when she was younger and I think it altered who she grew up to be. Mix in some fancy neurotransmitter language and poof—the psychiatrists gave us a handy mental diagnosis for her.”
“What is it?”
“Does it matter?” Denton asked, more to himself than towards me. He shook his head, saddened, “It’s just a label that she got slapped with. That’s all the therapists look at for them to figure her out, but…she’s more than some psychological assessment that was dictated by some graduate intern.”
“I think if I got my assessment done, they’d say I’m a psychopath,” I remarked, dryly.
Denton laughed and shook his head, “No. You’re fine. You just have trust issues.”
“Is that my problem? My only problem? I thought I was just a bitch. Is that a mental disorder? They can write progress reports on me.”
His laugh was genuine as he tipped his head back.
It brought a smile to my face.
“See,” Denton pointed out. “This is why I want to hit on you and why I want to take you into the backseat of this car and peel down your—”
