“I’m fine,” he grunted.
I felt something snap inside of me. Something dark and hostile. “I swear to God,” I growled, my voice shaking with frustration, “if you Graham men don’t stop this I’m fine crap, I’m going to lose my shit.”
Olly’s exhale was close to a gasp and I knew it was because I had cursed, but it managed to appease my anger. Just the tiniest, littlest bit. “I think you might have lost it already, Bean.”
I sighed, studying his black eye. “How, Olly? How did this happen?”
“It’s a black eye. It just happens.”
Taking my time to fill my lungs with a deep breath, I willed my voice to remain steady. “Is this why you’re here, outside the station? Why you didn’t come to Philly?”
A nod. “You texted me you were on your way back. I wanted to apologize for not showing up.”
My thumb grazed the cut on his lower lip. “Does it hurt?”
He shrugged and I sensed the words rising to my mouth. Words he wouldn’t want to hear. “Olly, what the hell is going on?”
“I’m young, it’ll heal quickly,” he had the nerve to say. Deflect.
“Because you’re young, you shouldn’t be getting into situations that leave you with a busted lip. Nobody should, young or old.”
I saw my fingers start shaking, bewildered by the whole situation. Overwhelmed. Helpless, too. Because I didn’t know what to do to make him listen. To trust me. “You should be enjoying life. Having fun. Doing whatever nineteen-year-olds do now.” I shook my head, something occurring to me. “Does this have anything to do with the mysterious job at the nightclub?”
He recoiled, stepping out of my hold. “Just trust me for once, okay? I make good money. I’m fine. This was just a little brawl over a misunderstanding.”
I reached out for him again, but he stepped farther back. It was only then that I took notice of what he was wearing. Nice clothes, expensive ones. Brands I could hardly afford myself.
He looked down, too, and he shook his head.
I wanted to scream, but I didn’t. If I did, I probably wouldn’t stop.
“Is it drugs?” I demanded.
Olly’s head snapped up. His eyes widened.
“What?” He gasped, as if I’d just asked him if he was pooping golden pellets.
“Are you dealing drugs, Olly? Is that what this is?”
“Jesus, Rosie.” That shock turned into disgust, frustration. “I’m not dealing anything. It’s not that, okay? You just don’t understand. I’m…”
He shook his head, his raven hair falling over his forehead.
“You’re just what?”
“I’m… dancing?” he finally said, but it came out as a question. Which only made me more confused.
More skeptical. More suspicious.
“At the nightclub,” I said slowly. “Making enough money to afford clothes worth my rent.”
Olly shrugged.
Jesus, was my brother… dancing for money? Was Olly stripping?
My heart thundered in my chest while I remained very still.
Not long ago, I was thinking of Lucas’s cooking as the Magic Mike of Doughs and Pans, and now it turned out my little brother was actually reenacting the whole thing. In real life.
Didn’t he trust me enough to tell me?
Overwhelming sadness slipped in, making me feel dizzy. I opened my mouth to say something, anything, but the blinding lights from a vehicle stopped me.
Olly threw an arm over his eyes and cursed under his breath. A car pulled up beside us, and the window rolled down.
“Okay, pretty boy. Get in,” a man that wasn’t much older than Olly demanded from the driver’s seat.
“Olly,” I tried. “Don’t go.”
But my brother moved toward the car.
“There’s so much we need to talk about—”
“Rosie,” my brother cut me off. “It’s fine, I called him. And I’m okay. I swear.”
The man in the car smirked, his expression setting off about ten different alarms in my head.
“Let’s go,” he told Olly. “Shift starts in thirty. We’ll have to use a crap ton of makeup to cover that number you have, but Lexie will manage.” Lexie? “You’d better hope she was worth the trouble.”
My head whirled in Olly’s direction. His jaw was hard.
The black eye. It was about a girl. But—
“Bye, Rosie,” he said. And in a swift motion, he was kissing my cheek and throwing the back door open.