When Perfect Meets Crazy novel Chapter 31

Contrary to how crazy yesterday had been with the car scare and the prom committee debacle, today was shaping up to be quite peaceful. School passed by uneventfully. The prom committee even did some ass kissing since the caterer ended up calling with a change of heart half an hour after I left. And Olly, thankfully, hadn’t tried to give me another heart attack so far. In fact, she had been almost angelic which under normal circumstances would’ve been suspicious but yesterday already happened which meant she was also cozying up to me for having saved her ass.

She retired to her room for the night a while ago. Our dad wasn’t home yet. Everything was as I liked it, quiet and peaceful. I was curled up on my window seat, reading a novel on my phone with my afghan wrapped around me. The plan was to finish the book before my dad got home, then go to bed.

I had only a few chapters left and it seemed like the guy I wanted to get the girl was actually going to get the girl. I, unfortunately, had a penchant for second leads so the characters I root for rarely end up together but this time, it seemed like they would.

I smiled to myself, pulling the afghan tighter around my shoulders as a cool breeze filtered in through the open window. I absently reached for my cup of tea while waiting for the next page to load.

My gaze flitted out the window, taking in the clear night sky and scenic two-way street. I sighed, a quiet satisfaction filling up my chest.

Well, until I spotted Ian clumsily staggering up the street.

I almost spilled hot tea on myself in shock. What the...? He made it to my backyard before unexpectedly crashing to his knees.

I frowned, gently setting the cup down when he didn’t immediately get to his feet. I got to mine and reluctantly went down to find out what the problem was.

“Ian?” I called from the safety of the doorway.

A groan was all the reply I got.

“You good? What are you doing here?” I tried again.

I watched, worry beginning to gnaw at me as he slowly rose to his feet, limping the distance between us until like me, he was standing in the illuminated part of the doorway.

I gasped, my hands flying to my mouth.

His face was more red, blue and purple than his normal skin color and was liberally stained with blood. He was sporting a split eyebrow, an swollen shut left eye and what I hoped to God wasn’t a bullet wound in his right arm.

“The fuck...?” I rushed over to him.

He groaned.

“Are you...? What the fuck happened? You need a doctor!” I hissed, hooking his good arm over my shoulder to support his weight.

I wasn’t sure what was wrong with his left leg but a huge part of me really did not want to find out.

“Yell at me inside the house. I think I shook them off but I’m not sure,” he managed before slipping into a coughing fit.

I paused, all sense of sympathy fleeing from my mind. 'I think I shook them off...'

“You think?” My tone was all ice and frost. “You think?” I repeated. “Meaning, you might have led them...”

I clenched my jaw, swallowing the rest of my statement in favor of helping him inside. He was right. If he had in fact led a group of criminals to my house, standing outside where we could easily get caught was the worst idea.

I could just as well yell inside as I could outside. My dad wasn’t home yet and Olly could sleep through a tornado. I could kill him as loudly and painfully as I pleased inside.

I locked the back door behind us and helped him up to my room just in case my dad chose this inopportune moment to show up. A bleeding boy in the living room at midnight was just not something I could explain away.

I sat him on my bed, drew my blackout curtains close, and then switched on the lights.

I helped him take off his authentic leather boots -I couldn’t help noticing, sue me- before sitting him down more comfortably, with his back propped against my headboard, a pillow cushioning him and his legs stretched out on the bed.

“Don’t touch anything,” I ordered before heading downstairs to get everything I’d need to tend his wounds.

I returned armed with supplies. I laid them at the foot of the bed before going back to lock my room door just in case. Olly could suddenly wake up and need something from me. I wasn't willing to take any chances.

I faced him, meeting his unbruised eye.

“Explain yourself,” I ordered.

A part of me was impressed by how calm I sounded, especially given the fact that my heart was racing a mile a minute and I was lightheaded with fear.

His eye drifted shut, a sigh leaving his lips.

“I had match this evening and then--”

“Not there, idiot.” I glared. “From the beginning.”

A frown marred the parts of his face that weren’t immovably swollen.

“Okay,” he acquiesced, confusion coating his tone. “This morning, I got--”

“Not. There.” I ground out. “The beginning beginning. Where all this started. How you got involved in all this. If I’m going to risk my family’s and my safety, I think it’s only fair I have all the details. Start talking.”

“I’m not sure I believe him.”

To save him some dignity and also because I didn’t have the bandwidth to so much as try to comfort him, I pretended not to hear the desperation in his voice that made it glaringly obvious he really wanted to believe his father.

Something in my chest twisted. That desperation was a little too close to home.

“Anyway, he slipped up and I got the address to the arena. Lucky for me, another Carrington family tradition is kickboxing.”

Thankfully, that little nugget slipped out right when I needed something else to focus on.

“Hang on,” I held up a disinfectant coated cotton bud, “Carrington as in Carrington Global? As in Amina Corp?”

My eyes felt like they would pop out of their sockets.

“Yes.”

“Jesus Christ.” I blinked.

I knew he was rich. Really rich. But not Carrington level reach. Definitely not Carrington level. The Carringtons were on list of the top fifty richest families in the country. Number seven or so. They were obscenely rich. It was just not the kind of rich you’d expect from someone you actually know personally. Like how you wouldn't expect yourself to know Bill Gates or Jeff Bezos. It was urban legend level rich.

“So I came down here.”

I had half the mind to tell him to wait for me to finish processing the fact that I had mistaken a billionaire for a poor down-on-his-luck petty criminal at some point in my life. I might have if I wasn’t worried it would make him stop talking completely and since I was almost done patching him up, he could decide he wanted to leave.

“Came from where?” I inquired, forcing myself to file away the shock for later.

“I lied before.”

I froze, fingers stilling in the act of wiping his split brow. My mind instantly jumped from from reluctant but honest Fed to family dynasties built on blood and betrayal.

My eyes narrowed.

“Lied about what?” My voice could’ve easily cut glass.

He flinched.