Chapter 8: Nate Comes

Jesse heard the shout before he understood it.

"Get your hands off him!"

The voice came from the bottom of the stairs, hoarse and furious, and it was Nate's.

Pierce went rigid.

"You said an hour," Jesse tried to say, but it came out as mud.

Heavy steps pounded up the stairs.

Pierce let go of him, and Jesse slid down against the wall.

The world was a smear of light and dark.

He saw Pierce turn.

He saw Nate reach the landing, taller than Jesse had ever seen him, with his fists already shut.

"Nate, wait," Pierce said, with his palms out. "He's just drunk. I was helping him."

Nate hit him.

It was one punch.

It landed squarely on Pierce's jaw, and his head snapped sideways and hit the banister.

He dropped to his knees, and then onto his side on the stairs, holding his face.

"You drugged him," Nate said. His voice was low and shaking. "You gave him something."

"I didn't," Pierce gasped. "I swear. You're crazy."

"Hank called me from the back door. He has filmed you since you walked in."

Pierce's eyes flicked past him.

Hank was standing at the bottom of the stairs with his phone raised, holding it steady, white as paper.

"Still filming," Hank said.

Pierce's face changed.

It was a look Jesse would remember a long time.

It wasn't fear exactly.

It was hatred, pure and flat.

"You'll regret this," Pierce said to Nate. "You and your little puppy."

"Get out of my way," Nate said.

He stepped over him.

Then he crouched beside Jesse and put a gentle hand on his face.

"Jess. Jesse. Can you hear me?"

"Nate," Jesse said. It came out like a sob. "I tried."

"I know. I know you did."

"My legs don't work."

"I've got you. Put your arms around my neck."

Jesse couldn't make his arms obey.

Nate slid one arm under his knees and one around his back, and lifted him.

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