Collared Read online

  Half of the ceiling lights are burnt out in the kitchen, but it’s impossible not to see what’s going on. I’ve witnessed this scene so many times I’ve committed it to memory. It’s one of the reasons my parents don’t like me hanging out at the Costigans’.

  Everyone took it hard when Mr. Costigan was killed, but Torrin’s older brother took it the hardest. Probably because he was the reason why Mr. Costigan was out late that night. He never would have been in the middle of that crosswalk when Sherry Gates—whose blood alcohol level was point three—went blasting through it if Caden had been home when he said he’d be home.

  Guilt’s a strange thing—how it strangles the life out of people. Mr. Costigan was the one who died that night, but Caden has been dying a slow death of his own ever since.

  Not that that earns him much sympathy in my book, because Caden’s a prick. The leader of them. He was before his dad died and has become an even bigger one since.

  “If it isn’t my little brother who seriously saved my ass today,” Caden announces to the kitchen filled with a half dozen of his loser friends. You know the ones who showed up to first period either drunk or hungover most days? The ones who couldn’t fill a thimble with honor between all of them?

  Caden was supposed to graduate last year, but he failed so many of his classes that he has to redo his senior year, which really sucks since that puts all three of us in a bunch of the same classes.

  “Thanks for taking the fall for me, Torrin. I owe you.” Caden holds his hand above his head, waiting for Torrin to smack it.

  Torrin’s hand tightens around mine instead, and his other stays stuffed into his back pocket. “You can pay me back by not drinking on school property again and leaving a trail of beer cans that lead up to my tailgate.”

  I stiffen. I’d heard that Torrin had told Principal Thierry that the beer cans were his, but I hadn’t heard that Caden had pretty much left a trail of Natty Light crumbs to Torrin’s truck. Coward.

  “You got it, bro.” Caden waves a lazy salute, but by the glassy look of his eyes, it’s pretty damn clear he’s already downed another half case. “And sorry about you getting suspended from the team for five games. Thierry’s a serious hardass.”

  I spin on Torrin, but my hand stays tied in his. “You got kicked off the soccer team?”

  Behind me, Caden pops off a “Busted!” to his friends, which is followed by a few chuckles, but I don’t care. All I care about is Torrin. Soccer is his life—or at least a big part of it. He’s good at it too. He’s started every game since his sophomore year, and word is he’s in a good spot to land a solid scholarship if he keeps averaging two goals a game . . . which can’t happen if he has to sit on the bench for the next five.

  I’m suddenly so pissed at Caden that I want to punch that smirk off of his face. Even though he kind of looks like Torrin, except for his eyes being dark brown and his body being more stocky than lean, I can’t help but feel murderous things when I look at him.

  “I was going to tell you.” Torrin looks right into my eyes. He doesn’t blink. “I just got kinda . . . distracted.” His cheeks color just a little. He’s lost most of his tan from the summer, so it’s more obvious.

  “You two were up in your bedroom for a good two hours, and I can make out the sweet sound of a mattress bouncing from a mile away.” Caden fires off a wink at Torrin. “I bet you were a little distracted, brother.”

  Torrin’s hand tightens around mine, his eyes narrowing at Caden.

  “You’re a dick, Caden.” I face him and step closer. Caden’s a classic coward, and you don’t back down from a coward when they throw a punch—you throw one right back. “Grow up and own up. Stop letting your little brother do it for you.”

  Torrin tries pulling me back to him. When that doesn’t work, he steps up beside me. He knows better than to move in front of me or angle his body in that direction. The last time he tried that, we got into a serious fight. I get that he has this instinct to protect me, but he has to get that I can protect myself. He has to understand that it’s my job, not his, to look after me. He’s getting there. Slowly, but he is.

  “Ahh, Jade.” Caden crosses his arms over his big barrel chest. His eyes move down me. “You kiss my brother with that filthy mouth?” He tips his chin at Torrin. “Lucky guy.”

  Torrin flinches, but he stays where he is. I can tell it’s almost killing him to let me handle this on my own.

  I raise an unimpressed brow at Caden. “Bite me.”

  Caden snaps his teeth together a few times. “I’d love to. Right in that nice round ass of yours.” He chomps his teeth together once more. “Are you tapping that yet, Torrin? Or is she still holding out on you?”

  Caden drops his hand on Torrin’s shoulder. Torrin shrugs out of it and pulls me back with him. I decide to overlook the manhandling moment.

  “That girl’s never going to marry you, little brother, so you might as well take what you can as many times as you can get it.”

  An angry shudder rocks Torrin’s body. The muscle running down his jaw looks ready to snap.

  “Why don’t you go drink yourself into a coma, Caden?” I pull Torrin back a few steps because I don’t have a lot of faith that this isn’t going to turn into brawl if Caden doesn’t shut his trap before I get Torrin out the front door. “You’d be a lot more useful.”

  Something flashes in Caden’s eyes, then he slams his bottle on the counter. I keep pulling Torrin out of the kitchen. From the look on Caden’s face, I know this will drop from ugly to violent in a few more words. Distance is a good thing. Especially when it comes to flailing body parts and compacted fists.

  Caden sniffs. “And you’d be a lot more useful if you shut your mouth and opened your legs instead.”

  Torrin lunges toward Caden, but I was expecting it. I have just a solid enough hold on him to keep him from getting too far. “Torrin, stop. He’s just trying to get under your skin. Not worth it.”

  Torrin stares down Caden, not blinking. “So worth it.”

  When Caden crooks his finger at Torrin, I give his arm another yank before he can get very far.

  “Come on, brother. Defend your girlfriend’s honor,” Caden says.

  “My honor’s just fine, spank you very much, asshole.” I wave my middle finger at Caden while still managing to hold on to Torrin with both hands.

  “Not with the dirty things I’m doing to you in my head.” Caden lifts his eyes to the ceiling as he taps his temple. His twisted smile tells the rest of the story.

  Torrin makes another lunge, this one strong enough he drags me halfway across the linoleum before I manage to get his attention. “Stop it! Now! This is what he wants. Don’t give it to him.”

  Torrin stops, but the muscles banding down his forearm I’m gripping quiver. He takes a few deep breaths, staring down Caden the whole time. I’ve seen these two get into it enough to know it’s a pretty even match, but after the last one had left Torrin with a black eye and so many bruises dotting his chest I was sure he’d broken a few ribs, I swore I’d do anything to keep him from getting into another one. Caden and Torrin aren’t boys duking it out for fun anymore—they’re men out to draw blood.

  After another minute, Torrin raises his hands and backs up a few steps. “I’m good.” When I don’t let go of his arm, he glances at me. His eyes go right back to Caden. “I’m good.”

  I loosen my grip, testing him. He doesn’t break loose and go all caged gorilla in Caden’s direction, so I loosen my hold a little more. By the time I’ve totally let go of him, Torrin’s breathing’s back to normal. His expression’s still lethal, but he’s good.

  “Let’s leave these monkeys to their ass scratching and shit throwing.” I nod toward the front door. “Come on.”

  I take the first step out of the kitchen and wait. Torrin follows me.

  “Hey, Jade?”

  My shoulders tense—why can’t Caden just know when to quit?

  “You need any help with the leg opening thing,
you know where to find me,” he says.

  I spin around as fast as I can, but I’m too late—Torrin’s already on him. Torrin isn’t just known for making goals. He’s as well known for his speed getting up and down the field—or in this instance, across the kitchen.

  “Torrin!” I shout, but I know he can’t hear me. He already has Caden on the ground and has gotten in two punches before I can shout again. “Stop!”

  Caden’s friends close in around the two of them, but none of them charge in to help their friend, who’s getting his ass kicked. Nice friends. Not that I’d let them get close to Torrin. The moment any of them put a finger on him would be the moment before I snapped it.

  Caden’s laughing, hit after hit, but Torrin’s quiet. Eerily quiet. His hits are concentrated, focused almost. It doesn’t look like he’s going to stop until Caden shuts up.

  I don’t think Caden’s trying to fight back, or if he was, Torrin’s beat it right out of him, so when I notice the first splatters of blood rain across the linoleum, I step in. I can’t count the number of these “brotherly” brawls I’ve broken up. At least Rory, the youngest Costigan brother, is more lover than fighter. Once Caden moves out of the house, things will quiet down.

  “Enough, Torrin.” I don’t have to shout this time because there isn’t much noise anymore.

  Other than the smack of Torrin’s fist connecting with some part of Caden, the room is quiet. He’s finally stopped laughing.

  “Torrin . . .” I step up behind him. He scares me when I see him like this. Not because I’m scared for myself but scared for anyone who crosses him. Torrin doesn’t back down once he’s committed. “Enough.”

  Even though my words aren’t stopping him, the moment my hand curls around his shoulder, his whole body goes still. Other than his chest rising and falling with his rushed breathing, he doesn’t move.

  I squeeze his shoulder. “Come on.”

  He stays straddled over Caden for a few more seconds, but slowly his arms lower to his sides as his fists fall open like they’re exhausted. Caden’s nose is bleeding, and a couple of Torrin’s knuckles look split open—again—but I don’t think there are any broken bones or stitches required. Torrin was holding back. Sometime this past year, he became stronger than his older brother. The roles have shifted. From the look in Caden’s swollen eyes, he knows it too.

  “You talk to Jade like that again, and we’re over. Through.” When Torrin speaks, his voice is controlled, but I don’t miss the tremor that runs down his spine. “Now sober up and clean up before Mom gets home. I’m tired of cleaning up your messes.”

  He stares down at Caden for another moment before standing up beside me. He flexes his fingers, popping his knuckles, then grabs my hand and steers me out of the kitchen. Again. Hopefully for the last time tonight because it’s a damn miracle my dad isn’t already beating down the front door with the SWAT team covering him.

  “Blood’s thicker than water, little brother!” Caden calls after us, spitting out what I guess is some blood of his own.

  “Yeah, let me know when you figure that out. Big brother.” Torrin makes the last part sound like an insult as he throws open the front door and ushers me out first. He wants to make sure to keep himself between his brother and me.

  Under most circumstances, I’d call him out for that, but he’s just kicked his brother’s ass without Caden getting a single punch in. He already has a lot to deal with without me going all independent woman on him.

  The cool fall air does a decent job of clearing both of our heads, so by the time we’ve bounced down the front steps and are rounding onto the sidewalk, he almost looks back to normal—or as normal as Torrin Costigan is capable of looking because on a typical day, Torrin’s an intense person. A guy who looks like this world and the next one over is riding on his wide shoulders. It’s what I like about him. It’s also why I worry about him. Intensity’s good to a point . . . that point where it breaks a person. I never want to see Torrin broken.

  “You shouldn’t have hit him,” I say as we wander down the sidewalk. Neither of us are in a hurry to separate.

  “I know.” Torrin stares at the sidewalk, slowing our pace until we come to a standstill. “But there are only a few people I love, and you’re at the top of that list. If I don’t take care of you, what good am I?”

  I feel the dreaded ball wedge into my throat again. Torrin somehow feels partly responsible for his dad’s death too. As if all twelve-year-old ninety pounds of him could have stepped out in front of that speeding minivan and crushed it before it crushed his dad. His thought process makes no sense to me, but that doesn’t change that it makes sense to him.

  “I can also, you know, take care of myself.”

  I glance down at my house. The lights are still on in every room but my little brother’s. It’s just past ten o’clock, and usually my parents go to bed at nine thirty on the dot. Except when I’m out with Torrin. They stay up until I get home every time, scanning me like they’re checking to see if my top is twisted around or my skirt is still bunched up or something. Having a police chief as a dad really sucks when you’re a teenage girl.

  “Yeah, I remember.” Torrin rubs at his cheek, trying not to smile.

  He likes to rub it in whenever he can that I once took a swing at him at recess in fourth grade. I’d expected him to dodge it, but he hadn’t. He stood there, unflinching, and took it. He deserved it though. He’d accused me of cheating on a spelling test, but he was just pissed because I scored one point higher than him. Like usual.

  “How much longer are you going to keep covering for him?” I ask, rolling my eyes when he starts popping his jaw like I did permanent damage. “I know he feels responsible for what happened to your dad, and I know you feel bad for him because of that, but you can’t let him ruin your life at the same time he’s ruining his.”

  I glare at Torrin’s house. I want to go back in there and make Caden’s nose bleed again when I remember the consequences Torrin has wound up with because of him. Yeah, I know Caden would have been suspended for good if he’d chalked up another infraction, but so what? He’s dug his grave as far as I’m concerned.

  “I know. I’m done with it.” Torrin exhales and looks off into the distance. Whatever he sees there makes his eyes narrow. “I don’t want to lose you because I’m trying to save him.”

  I tug on his hand until his chest is brushing mine. “You won’t lose me, Torrin.” I wait for him to look at me. When he does, his light eyes are finally starting to clear. “I guess I’m just hoping you’ll figure out one day that you can’t save everyone.” When the skin between his brows creases, that damn ball in my throat doubles in size. “Sometimes you have to just let go.”

  His arm stretches around me, pulling me closer. “I’m a sucker for a hopeless case.”

  When his smile starts to move into place, I exhale. “Good thing you’re so cute.” I smile back at him, slipping my thumb through one of his belt loops.

  “And I might, you know, be pretty decent in bed?” His brow lifts at me.

  My stomach knots as I think about how decent he is in bed. “I need to collect additional data before I make my final conclusion.”

  His face flattens as he holds out his arm. “Hey, consider my schedule cleared. Time, place, I’ll be there.”

  The seriousness in his voice and his face makes me laugh—loudly enough that Mrs. McCune’s little terrier starts barking at the front window.

  “Jade Childs!” My dad’s voice echoes from where I guess he’s stationed at the front porch.

  I wince. My dad’s voice has a way of doing that. Torrin’s expression doesn’t change. He’s immune to it or something.

  “Coming!” I shout back, which only makes Roco at the window go even more nutso.

  “Come on. I’ll walk you home.” Torrin shoves his hand in his pocket and starts leading me down the sidewalk.

  I don’t move. “No, better not. After what happened in the hall last week, you’re lucky
your man parts are still connected . . . and functioning rather impressively if I do say so myself.”

  I bite my lip and try to contain the blush I feel creeping up my neck. Much to my parents’ dismay, I’m not the demure girl who blushes and could be voted Miss Congeniality. I’m the girl who lives in band shirts and rolls her eyes at cheerleaders. They’ve been calling me a strong-willed child since I was a toddler, but while they admit that with disappointment, it’s a point of pride for me. I know who I am and what I want, so why in the hell would I let a bunch of other people try to tell me who I should be and who I should want?

  Torrin has to scrub at his crooked smile before he can reply. He’s practically gloating from my compliment about his nicely functioning manhood. Guys . . .

  “I’m not letting you walk home in the dark by yourself. Nice try.” He tries moving down the sidewalk again.

  I stay where I am. I’m a pain in the ass as far as girlfriends go, but he puts up with me. He’s a pain in the ass as far as boyfriends go, but I put up with him. I guess that’s the way it is with love. Everyone’s a pain in the ass in their own way. The goal’s to find the person whose pain-in-the-ass is worth putting up with. I’ve found mine.

  “It’s ten o’clock,” I say, blinking. “I live half a block away. We live in one of the safest cities in the country. What are you afraid’s going to happen?”

  He scans the neighborhood around us like there are things I can’t see. “What I’ve been afraid of from the first day I knew I loved you.” His hand tightens around mine. “That I was going to lose you.”

  The breath I’d been taking gets stuck in my lungs. As misguided as his fear of losing me is, I know where it comes from. I guess most kids who lose a parent at a young age probably feel the same way. They’ve experienced firsthand the fragility of life and how quickly it can be extinguished. It doesn’t matter how many times I’ve told him I’m not going to leave him; my words never seems to take root.