The Fight In Us: A Brother's Best Friend College Romance (The Four Book 4) Becca Steele (speld decodable readers .TXT) 📖

Me: 242 messages, huh?

The three dots showed up immediately, and less than thirty seconds later, I had a reply.

Cass: I was aiming for 250 but I guess I fell short

Cass: Are you ok? I’m so fucking sorry mate

Me: I will be

Cass: Where are you? When are you coming home?

Me: In London in a hotel. Was trying to get away but I guess there was a Cavendish intervention

Cass: Good. Winter said she was coming for you. We’re all worried

Guilt burned through me yet again.

Me: I needed time to think

Cass: I get it. See you tomorrow?

Me: I’m not coming back to the house yet. I need a few days

Cass: *gif of a crying man*

Me: *eyeroll emoji* Don’t guilt trip me

Then, because I really didn’t want to upset him, knowing how he used humour as a defence mechanism sometimes, I sent him another message.

Me: Pool at the Student Union on Weds? 4?

Cass: *grin emoji* Prepare to lose

I sent him the middle finger emoji, and he replied with a gif of a man saying “you’re going down.”

Guess we were on our way back to normality, then. Yeah, we’d have things to discuss, but our friendship was getting back on track.

Next, I opened up my encrypted Kryptos app that allowed me to send and receive messages to Mercury, Xenon, and Promethium, and bypassing Mercury’s traitorous name, hit the notification from Xenon.

Scrolling through the updates, I saw that Xenon’s program had flagged up a load of new updates for Martin Smith, the guy I’d been investigating at Alstone Holdings.

Going through the data would have to wait, though. Fuck thinking about anything else right now. Rolling onto my side, I climbed off the bed and headed for the fridge. I had a minibar to get through.

SIXTEEN

A week. A whole week in which Weston hadn’t been home. Not that I was checking or anything, but I may have been tracking his phone location.

Two days after everything had blown up between us, I made an emergency appointment with my therapist. We rarely met these days, but she was the one person I trusted to be completely impartial and would give me the space and time to pick apart how I was feeling. I’d built myself up to be untouchable, invincible, and in seconds, it had all come crashing down.

The relief I’d felt when she told me that there was nothing abnormal about the way I’d reacted—not that there was a “normal” way that anyone should be, but I’d panicked, thinking I was losing all the progress I’d made. After the assault, I’d been in a dark place for quite a long time. I’d clawed my way out of it, using therapy and training in martial arts as my light, building up my shields so that I’d never be so helpless again. Martial arts in particular had given me discipline, focus, and I’d finally felt in control once again. Being able to read my opponent and fight back—there was something so empowering about it. I hadn’t stuck to just one discipline, either, and I’d acquired a range of skills over the time I’d been practising.

Anyway, after the appointment with my therapist, it was crystal clear to me. I needed to speak to Weston, to try to make him understand why I’d reacted that way to him.

Oh yeah, and I needed to apologise for keeping the whole Mercury thing a secret. One step at a time, though, that’s what Kaylie had kept reiterating during our appointment.

Pausing outside the Alstone College Student Union, I smoothed down my top. Outwardly, I looked good—or like myself, at least. Black, loose T-shirt slipping off my shoulders, short black pleated skirt, fishnet tights, chunky boots, and a studded black leather belt I’d looped around and around my arm as a makeshift bracelet.

My phone tracking said Weston was in this building. I knew from my intel that he’d been staying with his friend Rumi, and I was glad he hadn’t been alone, but he hadn’t been home yet, which concerned me.

I slipped through the doors and headed down the stairs. The first person I saw as I made my way to the bar area was Jessa De Witt. Although, this wasn’t the perfectly poised Jessa De Witt I knew. This wasn’t the beautiful, rich, and popular girl, best friend to Portia Thompson, the queen bee on campus (or so she liked to think).

This version was a hollowed-out shell of herself. Limp hair, no makeup, dark circles under her eyes. A baggy grey hoodie covered her body, the sleeves pulled down over her hands.

“Jessa?” We’d never been friends, never really spoken, being two years apart in age and due to her dislike and jealousy of Winter, but things had kind of changed since the night at the docks. The Belarusian gang whom Winter’s mum was working with had kidnapped her, mistakenly believing her to be Caiden’s girlfriend, and from what I’d heard, it had been a traumatic experience for her. I just hadn’t realised how badly it had affected her until now. My brother had added me to a group chat with her, Winter, and Kinslee after the whole ordeal, but we’d stuck to light topics—mostly memes, courtesy of Cassius.

She gave me a small smile that didn’t reach her eyes and went to move past me. “Oh, hi.”

“Wait.” I placed my hand on her arm. “Are you…” What could I say that would help? Stepping closer, I lowered my voice, although we were currently alone in the area just outside the bar. “Jessa. Have you spoken to anyone about what happened?”

A dull pain filled her eyes, and she shook her head slowly.

Rummaging in my small bag, I pulled out my therapist’s card and pressed it into her hand. “Here. If you ever need to speak to anyone, she really helped me.” I nodded towards the card. “You don’t have to deal with this alone.”

“Thanks,” she whispered, clasping the card with shaking fingers. Swallowing hard, she composed herself, then looked at me. “What are