The Anti-Hero (The Goode Brothers, #1)(88)

“I’m here,” I reply, scooping her from the ground and holding her in my arms. Her hands clench my suit tight in her fists as she continues to fight for each breath, letting out a painful-sounding cough every time she does. Her throat is already swollen, and I’m starting to panic.

When I take off with her toward the crowd, I look up to find my mother standing under the white lights, watching this unfold with horror. Her hand is resting over her mouth and I send her an expression of anguish.

“Call 9-1-1,” I cry out. “Please.”

She scrambles for the phone in her purse, quickly pulling it out and dialing the number as I rush toward her, carrying Sage in my arms. When my eyes meet my mother’s, she starts crying hysterically into the phone, giving the person on the other end everything they need to know.

Her hand reaches out, taking Sage’s as she calls for help.

Soon, my brothers and others from the party are there, but I don’t focus on them. I’m only staring down at Sage, watching her struggle for each breath, tears streaming down her face as I carry her toward the road where the ambulance will meet us.

Behind me, I hear my father cry out for his wife and his sons, but no one goes to help him.

By the time I reach the road, where the valet driver let us out of my car, the red and white lights of the ambulance flash

through the sky. Sage stares up into my eyes, each of her inhales sounding more and more like wheezes than breaths.

Her lips are an unnatural shade of blue, and I just stare at her and pray.

Please let her be okay. Please don’t take her from me.

What if he crushed her throat so bad it swells on the way to the hospital and I lose her?

It would be all my fault. I let that man roam free because I was too scared to reveal what a devil he truly is. I let her die because I’m a coward. Because I showed up too late. Because I left her alone in the first place.

Her face twists in pain and I pray to God to take it from her and give it to me.

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper, kissing her head. The ambulance parks on the curb and the paramedics jump out, but at the last moment, just before they take her from my aching arms, I press my lips to her ear. “I love you.”

Then, my arms are empty and they’re strapping an oxygen mask on her face, taking her vitals. I stand helpless on the curb as they treat her on the stretcher in the back of the ambulance.

I’m hit with earth-shattering satisfaction as her chest starts moving with the intake of her breath.

I keep my eyes on her for as long as I can. Distantly, I feel a warm hand clutching my arm, and when they finally slam the doors closed, it’s like a punch to my heart.

And suddenly, I feel all the pain I expected to feel from being in love. The fear of losing her. The regret of letting her down. The guilt of knowing she’s in pain because of me.

So, as the ambulance drives away and the police pull up, I make a silent promise to myself and to her. If I’m given the chance to make this right, I’m going to take it.

Starting now.





Forty-One

Adam

“A dam, stop,” my mother calls after me as I spin away from the road and march back to where I left my mess of a father on the ground.

Caleb’s hand winds around my arm first, but I simply give him a severe expression and he loosens his grip. Somewhere in the distance, the party continues, but I’m too focused on killing the man who hurt Sage before the police arrive and take him away.

“You know what he’s done. You know he deserves this,” I mutter through my teeth.

“What are you talking about?” Luke asks as he catches up to us. I continue my walk toward the grassy area where I found him with Sage. My mother trails behind us, still hysterical.

I can’t answer my brother’s question. Not yet.

When I see my father struggling to his feet in the distance, I move with purpose.

“Adam!” my mother shrieks behind me, but it’s all muddled now. Rushing toward him, I wrap my hand around his throat and slam him against the brick wall of the building.

He fights me, but he’s too drunk and too weak.

When I feel my brothers ambush me on either side, I can sense their hesitation. They’re trying to push me away from him, to keep me from hurting him. Behind me, I hear my mother sobbing.

And I realize, now is the time. I waited too long already, and while it would feel really fucking good to hurt him with my fists, serving him the justice he deserves is going to feel even better.

Releasing my grip on his neck, I take a step away from him. With a scornful glare, I meet his eyes with mine.

“Hold him,” I mutter to my brothers. The look of fear and surprise on my father’s face is gratifying.

“What?” Lucas replies.

“I said hold him,” I bark at my younger brother.

Caleb moves first, snatching our father by the arm and holding him in place. Then Lucas follows his lead.

“Boys, stop it!” Mom shrieks.

“How does that feel?” I ask him, my voice low. Sirens blare in the distance and I know I’m running out of time. I want him to be here when I expose him. I want him to watch as I ruin his life with his own lies.

“Son, don’t do this,” he pleads, and I’m not sure if he means punch him or tell them everything. But as his terror-filled eyes glance toward the red and blue flashing lights in the distance, relief washes over me. He’s about to pay for what he’s done.