twenty-three: in which she stops the violence

"Somebody, make me feel alive and shatter me" –Lindsey Stirling & Lzzy Hale, Shatter Me

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At some point between the phone call Jake got and our drive over to the Sallow County Police Station, Baron had been released. The bail bondsman the Phantoms used on the regular had a glass eye and a permanent scowl that made his lined face look meaner. When one cop told us that Baron hadn't actually been charged with anything in the first place, Marcus the Bondsman simply shrugged, gave Jake a curt nod, and got the hell out of there.

"So why the hell'd you call me in the first place?" Jake snapped at the young cop, whose eyes flickered uncertainly to me.

"No one c-c-called you," the man stuttered in response, tugging at the collar of his uniform.

"Yeah? So I imagined it? Saw it in the stars?"

"Look, someone phoned him." I decided to cut Jake's sarcasm short. "Someone told him that his brother was being charged with murder."

"Impossible," the cop said, eyes on me. His nametag said he was Pearson. "Mr. Ford was just at the scene of the crime. We couldn't charge him with anything when there were witnesses at this club who said they'd seen the woman enter a room with another man."

"Witnesses?"

Pearson flushed a deep red, as if he'd just realized that he'd said too much to us. Which he had. It turned out that Baron had been taken in with a group of other people who'd been present when the woman – who was still unidentified – was found with a bullet wound in her head. The only reason Baron had been brought in was for his statement, which he'd given before leaving. Someone had called Jake up by mistake. That was the assumption.

"Come on, Jake," I said, pulling at his arm, when it became obvious that he would tear Pearson's head off his neck for time-wasting. "Let's go find your brother."

His head jerked in my direction, the anger in his eyes dissipating. Wordlessly, he took my hand and led me out the station. There was a red glow over the horizon and a cool breeze was blowing. I was glad I'd thrown on my thickest sweater. Jake, on the other hand, was in last night's clothes and had goose bumps dotting his skin. I flipped on the heat when we got into his truck.

"That poor woman," I said to myself, putting on my seatbelt as Jake started the car. From what Pearson had said, the cops figured she'd been killed by a guy who didn't want to pay up when his time with her was done. No one deserved that.

And then there was Baron. The fact that Jake was driving like a maniac to get to his brother was proof that he cared. There's a three-year age gap between them, so I could understand Jake's sudden shift into overprotective-brother mode. It made me happy. Something told me that Baron needed his brother.

We drove in silence to Jake's house, where we found a disheveled, bleary-eyed Baron sitting on the couch, nursing a glass of whiskey. At six in the freaking morning.

"You wanna explain how you got yourself into this shit?" Jake exploded, snatching the glass out of his brother's hand.

"That's my fuсking drink!" Baron snarled, leaping to his feet. He tried, in vain, to retrieve it, but Jake flung the glass against a wall. "Fuсk you, Jake. I'll just pour another."

"Hey, Baron? Calm down," I said. I'd never seen him like this.

"Shut it, Maya."

"Don't fuсking talk to her like that."

"Get out of my goddamn face, asshole."

It was Baron who threw the first punch. For someone who was clearly hung-over and looking to get even more intoxicated, he had a good aim. His fist landed beneath Jake's right eye, and I screamed, as if I had been punched. I was close enough to see the gleam of excitement in Jake's eyes as he retaliated. His right hook stunned Baron enough for him to go down like a fallen tree when Jake hurled himself into him, sending them onto the couch and flipping it over with the force of their combined weight.

"Jake, stop!" I shrieked, because he had at least fifty pounds on his brother and he was currently straddling him to deliver blow after devastating blow. "Jacob!"

Somehow, Baron managed to pitch Jake off of him and pull himself to his feet. He spat blood out of his mouth and onto the floor. That was when the kicking began. Baron got at least a couple hits into Jake's side before his brother felled him with one almighty push, sending him stumbling backwards and onto his ass for Jake to beat.

My screams to stop went unheeded, and I eventually realized that they were going to kill each other. It was too early in the morning for this nonsense. I must've made a comical sight dashing to the kitchen the way I did. I took out the biggest pot Jake owned and filled it to the brim with ice-cold water, struggling to make it back to the living room without water sloshing over the sides, but it was worth it to splash every last drop of it over the two demon seeds thrashing about on the floor.

The result was instantaneous: Jake and Baron separated like water and oil, various curse words streaming from their mouths. The couch was soaked, as was the carpet, but that didn't matter right now.

"Are you both out of your ever-loving minds?" My voice was borderline hysterical. OK, fine. I was hysterical. "Do you want to kill each other? And for what? Because Jake took your sippy cup away? Put on your big-girl panties, Baron. He's only looking out for you!" My eyes went to Jake, who was breathing heavily, still glowering at his brother as they both stood up. "And you. Did you enjoy beating the crap out of your little brother? Did it make you feel like more of a man?"

"He fuсkin' started it," Jake grumbled, rubbing at his bloodied nose with the back of his hand.

"And you could've ended it by walking away."

Baron snorted. "Yeah. He's really great at walking away. Especially when it comes to family."

"The fuck does that mean?"

"You know exactly what it means, brother."

"Baron, stop it," I pleaded, earning a small smile from him.

"You know, I don't get why you're with him, Maya," he said softly. "Jake breaks things. Even when we were kids, he always broke his toys."

I frowned at him. "If you're implying that I'm one of his toys, you can go straight to hell, Baron Ford."

"That's not what I –"

"How about you shut the fuсk up for one precious second, huh?" Jake snapped at him. "We've barely been in contact for years now. You don't know shit about me."

"And you don't know shit about me, either!" Baron's voice broke at the end. "I'm not in the country on vacation. I don't have a great life to go back to in Paris. I don't have anything. Everything I worked for, built up for myself – everything's gone. Because of one person. The person I gave my heart to. She fuсked me over and I fucked up my life. It's not a fuсking walk in the park to get over your fiancée fuсking your boss and trying to pass his baby off as yours. So you know what? I'll drink whenever the hell I want to, whenever the hell I feel like ѕhit. Now do me a favor and leave me the hell alone."

He stormed past me, and we heard his footsteps disappear upstairs. For a long moment, Jake and I stood in dumb silence, looking at each other.

"You didn't know a thing?" I asked, finally breaking the quiet.

Jake shook his head, tearing a hand through his hair. "Only that her name's Diana and she worked at the same investment bank. They were serious." He looked as flustered as I probably did.

"You have to go talk to him, Jake."

"You heard him. He wants me to leave him alone. I can't..."

"Once upon a time, I wanted you to leave me alone. You didn't," I said, rounding the couch to be closer to him. "Don't leave your brother alone."

Jake sucked in a deep breath, eyes filled with remorse. "I beat him up pretty bad."

"You don't look so great, either. You can trade war stories."

"I feel like a dick, sweetheart."

"Pretty much how I feel."

"No. Baron was right. What the fuck are you doing with me?"

"Beats me. Must be the fact that you're so hung." And sweet, and generous, and funny, and a great cook, and an even better cuddler...

"I love you for saying that," he said with a half-smile, pecking me on the forehead. "You're too sweet for me."

Then, he went upstairs to make peace with his brother. I cleaned the living room up in a haze, because the first three words of his sentence kept echoing in my head, like an endless loop of terrible music: I love you...