Page 25 of What If It Was Us
I gaped at him. I could see Jackson watching us out of the corner of my eye, and I felt my face getting hot. My other coworkers were starting to watch now, too. I just needed him to leave—this wasmyplace. He was ruining it, and embarrassing me in front of my coworkers.
I grabbed his left bicep with both hands. “Please, follow me,” I said, keeping my tone as calm as I could manage.
Reluctantly, he got off of the stool, and I pulled him toward the front door while heads turned to watch us. I focused on the door, trying my hardest not to look at anyone as we passed.
As soon as we were outside, I let go of Peter, my heart racing in my chest.
“Okay, how did you even get here?” I looked toward the street parking zone, wondering if his car was there.
“I drove, obviously,” Peter shouted. I took a step back. He looked pissed now. “What the fuck is your problem, Addie?”
“Me? You’re the one who showed up to my job drunk!”
He raised a hand and for a second, I thought he was going to slap me. I flinched, covering my face with my hands. Instead, he grabbed my right forearm so tight I cried out.
“You’re hurting me!”
“If you’re making me leave, then you have to leave, too,” Peter spat at me as he tugged me toward him.
I dug my feet into the concrete, trying to pry his fingers off me. “Stop!” I was trying to catch my breath as Peter began dragging me down the street. I couldn’t fight the fat, hot tears running down my face. A sob escaped me when I felt one of his nails pierce my skin. Peter had never hurt me before; sure, he yelled at me half the time, and the other half he acted like I didn’t exist. But he hadneverput his hands on me.
I felt a rush of instant relief as Peter let go of my arm, and I pulled it to my chest protectively. All I could hear was yelling, and when I looked up, someone was clinging to Peter’s back, trying to choke him out as he fought to get their fingers off his neck.
I watched as Peter swung the person off, throwing them to the ground and straddling them as he punched them in the face over and over. When I realized it was Jackson on the sidewalk, I couldn’t make myself move. What the hell was he doing? Jackson was a sixteen-year-old kid, and even though he had grown a few inches over the summer and was starting to get bulkier, he wasn’t a match for my stocky twenty-three-year-old brother, inebriated or not.
“Peter, stop!” I cried. He wasn’t listening to me, and Jackson wasn’t giving up on fighting him off. I didn’t know what to do; I felt helpless standing there, watching Jackson take hit after hit from my brother.
Peter looked like he was getting tired at least, and eventually Jackson was able to stop his fists from connecting with his jaw another time.
“What the fuck!?” I turned around to find Rami running outside. He pulled Peter off Jackson in an instant, tossing him to the side like a rag doll. I kneeled down to inspect the damage to Jackson’s face. He wiped blood from his nose, and I hoped it wasn’t broken. He hadsplotches of red on either side of his jaw that would turn to bruises later, and a split top lip.
I was scared to touch him—to hurt him anymore. We both turned to watch Rami push Peter down the street. I don’t know what he said to Peter, but whatever it was, it worked. He was leaving. I shivered.
Rami walked back to us, helping Jackson stand. “You’re fucking crazy, kid,” Rami said as he pulled Jackson up, patting him on the back.
“He was about to rip her fucking arm out of its socket,” Jackson scoffed, holding an arm out toward me.
My cheeks got hot. Jackson had protected me, taking a beating in the process.
“We should really call the cops. And your parents,” Rami said.
“I’m so sorry. This is all my fault.” I was crying again, and Rami put an arm around me, attempting to soothe me.
Jackson reached forward and lightly touched his hand to mine. It didn’t linger—he pulled it back quickly, and shoved his hands into the pockets of his work pants. “It’s not your fault, Addie.” Blood was still running down his face, and I had to suppress another sob.
He looked up at Rami. “Please don’t tell my parents. Let’s just let it go. We don’t need to cause an issue for anybody.”
I let out a long, shaky breath, praying Rami would agree. What would happen if we called the cops and they showed up to my house? I was only fifteen, and Mom was gone. Could they take me away? Would Marie fire me for bringing trouble to the restaurant? I felt like trash—a pathetic piece of garbage who was ruining a nice family’s restaurant.
Rami stared at Jackson for a long time before shaking his head and dropping his arm from my shoulder.
“Next time I’m calling the police,” Rami sighed.
“Thank you, thank you so much.” I threw my arms around Rami, feeling like I could finally take a full breath.
“Why don’t you guys get out of here? I’ll handle closing tonight.” He patted my back awkwardly.
We didn’t fight him on the suggestion, and Jackson and I walked around the block to the truck in the back alley.
