Jordan went back to grunting and cursing, and soon the couch was through the door and out onto the patio. That couch wasn’t ours. If we damaged it, who was I kidding? If we were able to stay here for all four years, the couch was going to be replaced. Probably multiple times.

“Her father fucked up.”

He was kicking the couch over to the lawn as he talked.

“So he took a bad loan out from Harper, Sr.”

Another kick. A shove. More grunting and cursing.

“And fucking Harper, Sr. is going to cash it in, I don’t know what the fuck that means, but Tabatha being Tabatha—” one last heave and Jordan throws one end of the couch over the other and it tumbles all the way to the street. And we’re also on a slight hill. “—being fucking Tabatha, decides to whore herself out to Harper, Jr. to get the Dad Douchebag off her own douchebag father’s back, and for who?” He stalked to the street, lining up on the other side of the couch as he bent down. “For her mother! All this shit is for her own mother. Not for her dad, not for herself, not for either Harper Fucktwit, but for her mom. She doesn’t want her mom getting sick from worrying, from the shame? That’s the catalyst for all of this.” With a roar, he picked up the couch and began walking back to the house. With the couch. Over his shoulder and over his bent back.

As if we were one person moving in tandem, Zellman, Cross, and I shifted, stepping back.

Jordan went past, still with the couch on his back.

He dropped it, straightening.

The guy wasn’t even fazed.

I glanced at Cross. What the hell did they do in the gym all those hours? Could he do that, too?

As if sensing my thoughts, Cross shot me a look, his eyes darkening. Not now.

I grinned back, but he was right. Back to Jordan.

Instead of starting to toss it, because that’s what I’d been expecting, he righted it back up and dropped down onto it. Burying his head into his hands, he leaned over and yelled, “FUUUUUUCK!” Looking up, his face was stricken. “Did she sleep with him? Why?” His voice hitched. “Why didn’t she come to me? To us?”

Zellman coughed. “Uh, I’m not trying to disagree with you or set you off so you’re all Hulk again, but what could we have done? What could we do? None of us have parents who have connections.”

Well…

Jordan glanced at me, his eyes sliding to Cross.

I followed his look and yeah. That wasn’t technically true.

Cross noticed and backed up a step. “What?”