𝐂𝐇𝐋𝐎𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐔𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐓 the embodiment of sunshine, always with a bright smile and an easy laugh. She was the one everyone turned to, the friend who never faltered, always radiating positivity. But behind that cheerful exterior, how much darkne...
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"Lucas," I growled, my voice sharp with warning.
But he didn't stop. His hand was fisted tightly around Travis' neck, pinning him against the wall. His knuckles turned white with the force of his grip, and his chest heaved with anger.
"How many fucking times do I have to tell you," Lucas barked, his voice raw and venomous, "to stop fucking drinking in front of Winter?"
"Lucas!" I yelled louder this time, stepping forward. My hand landed on his shoulder, trying to yank him back.
His response came fast, too fast. A fist to my jaw.
The impact sent a shock through me. My head snapped to the side, and I froze, my hand instinctively going to my jaw. Pain throbbed in time with my pulse, but it wasn't the hit that stunned me—it was the person who threw it.
Lucas froze too. His chest still heaved, his eyes wild with anger but also laced with something that looked like regret. Travis slid down the wall with a gasp, rubbing his neck and coughing, his face pale.
"Jayden—" Lucas started, his voice tight, but I cut him off with a look that could stop a train.
"Go. Clear your head." My voice was low, firm, leaving no room for argument.
His jaw clenched, and his fists stayed balled at his sides. His dark blue eyes clouded, a storm brewing behind them, but he didn't move. Not at first.
"Lucas," I said again, my tone softening just a fraction.
He exhaled sharply through his nose, like a bull ready to charge, but his icy mask cracked the second he turned his head.
Winter stood in the doorway, her eyes wide with concern. She looked small, vulnerable, wrapped in one of those oversized sweaters she always seemed to favor, her brown curls wild and framing her face.
Lucas moved quickly. In two strides, he was in front of her, his arms wrapping tightly around her waist. He buried his head in the crook of her neck, his shoulders tense as if he was holding on for dear life.
I didn't hear what they said to each other, their words soft and meant only for them. But I saw Winter's hands slide up his back, offering comfort, and Lucas's whole body seemed to sag in relief, like she was the only thing anchoring him to reality.
I turned back to Travis.
He was still slouched against the wall, his head tilted back and his eyes closed. The faint red marks around his neck were a stark reminder of how close things had gotten to boiling over.
"Get up," I said firmly, crossing my arms over my chest.
Travis opened one eye, his expression smug despite the situation. "Damn, Lucas really knows how to make a point, huh?"
"Get up," I repeated, more forcefully this time.
He sighed dramatically but obeyed, pushing himself off the wall with a wince. "Alright, alright. No need to sound like my dad."
