Maddie, on the other hand… Fuck. Her hair is wild, and her white pants have so much dirt on them they’ll never come clean. She’s shifting uncomfortably from side to side, and she keeps wrapping her arms across her chest like she’s trying to hold it together.

“Get in the car,” I instruct my brother, gripping him by the shoulder to guide him toward the vehicle.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” he screams, spinning out of my hold and practically face planting on the hood of my car.

“His shoulder,” Maddie murmurs behind me.

I look from my brother back to my—to her, unsure who to give my attention to or how the fuck to play this.

“I think he dislocated it during the fight. I helped him put it back in place.”

What. The. Fuck?

“Who was he fighting?”

“Literally everyone,” she deadpans.

“Dude. Dem.” Fielding lifts his head off the car, then drops it back down with a thud and a groan. “You should have seen this girl tonight. She was like Chris Pratt fending off the raptors or some shit. She was screaming and cussing, and then she threatened them all with misdemeanors and blackmail. It was epic. Wait ’til you see the video.”

“What video?”

I turn back to Maddie and search her face, but she’s looking at the ground. I follow her gaze, and it’s then that I notice she’s barefoot and purposely keeping her weight on one leg.

“Hey.” I reach out tentatively, the urge to comfort her dominating all my racing thoughts. I have no idea what happened tonight. Or what she needs right now. As my fingertips graze her arm, a cackle of laughter erupts farther up the driveway. It sounds like a group of guys. They get increasingly louder as they get closer.

Maddie grips my arm and digs her nails into my skin. She looks up the driveway, then back at me, the definition of terror painted on her face.

“Shit. I can’t stay here. We have to go. Dempsey… please.”

The fear in her eyes and the tremble in her voice spur me into action. I can’t deny this girl. Her plea echoes through my body as I instinctively move closer.

I skim one hand down her arm and take the shoes from her, then guide her toward the car. I lean down to whisper in her ear as we walk, that all-too-familiar scent of strawberry sweetness making my nostrils flare.

“You’re safe now. You’re coming with us.”

I lead her to the passenger door and note how she grimaces when she hoists herself into the seat. She’s hurt. She’s a mess. And I can’t help but feel like this is his fault. And now it’s my mess.