Anything for You (Blue Heron #5)(28)

He pulled back, breathing hard, looked at her, eyes heavy, cheeks ruddy. Then he smiled. “This is fun,” he whispered.

She nodded.

Then Connor looked over her shoulder. “We have company,” he said.

It was Chico Three, wagging his tail, head cocked, like he was waiting for an introduction.

“Chico Three, this is Connor,” Jessica said. “Connor, meet Davey’s new puppy.”

Connor disentangled himself, leaving Jessica feeling unfulfilled and a bit empty. But it was okay; the night was young. He sat up, scooping the puppy onto his lap. “Hey, boy,” he said, and Chico wriggled with delight, wagging wildly, nipping Connor’s chin, making little whining noises of delight. “Ow,” Con said, smiling. “Those are some sharp teeth. No biting, Chico.”

“What are you doing here?”

Jess jumped. Davey stood at the bottom of the stairs, hair rumpled, looking confused. Shit, shit, shit. Play it calm, be matter-of-fact. “Davey, you know Connor, right?”

“Hey, Davey,” Connor said, still petting the puppy.

“What are you doing here? Why do you have my dog? Let go of him!”

“Honey, it’s okay, he’s not—”

“Let go of him! Don’t kill him!” His face was getting mottled and red, and if she didn’t stop this, it was going to be bad.

Jess stood up. “Davey, we were just watching, um, a spy movie. What’s your favorite spy movie?” she asked. Redirect. That was what all the psychologists said, all the articles on the internet, but she was too late, and they were the wrong questions.

“Why did you let him in?” Davey yelled. He grabbed a photo frame from the bookcase and threw it at Connor, missing, then reached for a pinch pot he’d made her in pottery class, which he threw to the floor. It cracked in two.

“Take it easy, buddy,” Connor said. “Everything’s okay.”

“Get out of our house! Get out!” Davey screamed, and he shoved past Jessica and launched himself onto Connor.

“Davey! Stop!” she said, trying to grab her brother’s arm. Connor, God bless him, managed to put the puppy on the floor, and Chico fled into the kitchen, barking, but Davey was like a Tasmanian devil, screaming, flailing, hitting, and Jess could barely hold him; he was like a really big, really strong otter, writhing and twisting. Connor stood up, towering over Davey, and was promptly punched in the face. She grabbed Davey’s arm. “No hitting! Just take a breath, Davey. Tell me who’s better, Superman or Batman?”

Connor gave her an incredulous look.

“I hate you! I hate you!” Davey wailed. “You killed my dog! You killed my dog! Run, Chico Three! Run!” He twisted his arm free, sending another punch right to Connor’s eye, hard enough that Connor rocked back.

“That’s enough, Davey. Stop it,” Connor said firmly. It didn’t work.

“Davey, please. You’re scaring Chico Three,” Jessica said, recapturing his arm. The puppy was barking in the kitchen, and the last thing Jess needed was a pit bull learning about violence, and shit, shit, shit.

“He’s scaring Chico Three! He kills dogs!”

“Buddy, calm down, okay?” Connor said. “I’m not killing anyone.”

“I’m not your buddy! I hate you! Get out! Get out!” Spit flew from his lips, and despite her best efforts to hold him, he kicked Connor in the shin, broke free of her and shoved him in the chest.

“Davey, stop,” she said firmly. The doctors told her to be firm, establish parameters and redirect his attention. Too bad they weren’t here to help. “You need to go to your room right now.”

He shoved her, too, and slapped her right across the face.

“Stop!” Connor barked, and he grabbed Davey, turned him so her brother’s back was against his chest, and just held him tight.

Wrong move. Being restrained was the thing Davey hated the most. His screams grew louder, if possible, and he threw his head back, catching Connor square in the face. Connor let him go.

Davey grabbed the bowl of popcorn, smashed it on the floor, kicked the coffee table and then went to the wall and began banging his head against it. “Get out, get out, get out!”

“Davey, please, please stop,” she begged, starting to cry. She forced herself between him and the wall, her shoulder taking the brunt of his blows, but it was too late, damn it; she should’ve had his helmet down here, should’ve prepared for this. His head was bleeding. She managed to get behind him and wrapped her arms around his chest, but he was too strong to take down, even with all her body weight in the effort. “Davey, this is not okay. Stop this right now.”

“Out! Out! Out!”

Shit, hell and baby Jesus. “Connor, can you get him on the floor for me?”

“No! No! No! Don’t touch me!” Davey bucked up against her.

Connor picked up his legs, and Jess sank back on the floor, almost holding Davey in her lap. She wrapped her legs around him and put one arm behind his head so he wouldn’t break her collarbone, and another across his chest. He couldn’t do himself any harm this way, but her ears rang with his screams, and he twisted and flailed.

And sobbed.

He needed his meds.

“Connor, take my place, okay? Just hold him so he doesn’t hurt himself. Be careful not to choke him.” She had to almost shout to be heard over Davey’s wails and Chico Three’s hysterical barking.