Becoming Us (COMPLETE)

*Twenty Six*

I sat parked in Tre's driveway with a death grip on the steering wheel, staring at the darkened windows of his house, trying to decide what to do. I drove there on autopilot, but now I wasn't sure what I'd say.

Mandy would've let me stay with her, but she had enough on her plate already. Maybe I should've gone to the police instead. If I made a report, they'd talk to Gary, but that wouldn't fix anything.

If I pushed, the most I'd get was a restraining order. What good would that do? I wouldn't go back there, anyway.

Mama would, though. She'd be the one to deal with him if I made him angry. She might be acting like an idiot, but she was still my mama, and I didn't want to cause her problems, especially ones that could get her hurt.

Staying in place wasn't an option. I peeled my shaking fingers from the wheel, left the car, and crossed the yard.

I needed something for my headache and blood had crusted around my nose. Using a napkin from the glove box, I'd cleaned what I could while driving, but even in the dark, my reflection in the rearview wasn't pretty. My neck ached and my back was sore. All of that was bound to feel worse once the adrenaline making me tremble wore off.

Standing on the porch, embarrassment and shame filled me. How could Mama let Gary stay? My eyes burned, but I refused to cry. With a slow breath, I knocked before I could change my mind.

A light came on, shining through the living room windows. Then Tre was there in his painting clothes. "Gemma? Hey, I—" His brow furrowed. "What happened?"

Tre took my hand, tugging me into the house, and slamming the door behind us. He sat me on a bar stool and rushed around the counter, pulling a clean dish towel from the drawer and running the hot water.

Carey's bedroom door opened, and he stepped out, yawning and zipping his jeans. Halfway to us, he saw me and stopped. His mouth popped open. "Who did this?" His eyes flashed to Tre but seemed to dismiss the idea immediately.

I looked down at my lap, where I'd twisted my fingers together. I should've stopped at a gas station first. Maybe I could've fixed some of this.

A warm towel brushed under my chin, lifting my face. Tre's touch feathered over my skin as his jaw clenched and he cleaned me up. He got to my cheekbone, and I flinched.

"Sorry." He frowned. "I'll get you some ice in a second." Lowering the towel, he said, "It was that asshole living with your mom, wasn't it?"

"What?" Carey looked between Tre and me. "Who is he?"

I sighed, and even that hurt my throat. "Just the latest. He hasn't been around long."

"Was this because of me?" The pain in Tre's voice broke my heart.

Reaching out, I gripped the front of his paint-stained tee. "No. It was because of him."

"Why would it be your fault?" Carey asked Tre, but he didn't respond. His expression hardened in a way I'd never seen.

Nerves gathered in my chest, and my stomach turned. "He's a racist jerk."

Tre paced away. Opening the freezer, he stood there motionless for a few seconds before grabbing a bag of frozen peas from the freezer and bringing it to me. "Hold this here." He held the bag to my cheek, covering my left eye, and placed my hand on top before returning to the other side of the counter.

"Did Dara call the police?" Carey asked. "Did you file a report after he left?"

"I dropped her off less than an hour ago." Tre slammed a cabinet, making me jump. "There wasn't time for all that."