Broken Heir

By Amber Vant

Copyright © 2022 by Amber Vant

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

This is a work of fiction. Resemblance persons, things, living or dead, locales or events is entirely coincidental.

Edited By: My Brother's Editor

Cover Designer: August Designs

Contents

1. Prologue

2. 1. Cole

3. 2. Cole

4. 3. Cole

5. 4. Cole

6. 5. Rory

7. 6. Rory

8. 7. Rory

9. 8. Cole

10. 9. Rory

11. 10. Rory

12. 11. Rory

13. 12. Cole

14. 13. Cole

15. 14. Rory

16. 15. Cole

17. 16. Rory

18. 17. Rory

19. 18. Rory

20. 19. Rory

21. 20. Rory

22. 21. Rory

23. 22. Rory

24. 23. Cole

25. 24. Rory

26. 25. Rory

27. 26. Rory

28. 27. Rory

29. 28. Rory

30. 29. Rory

31. 30. Rory

32. 31. Rory

33. 32. Rory

34. 33. Rory

35. 34. Rory

36. 35. Cole

37. 36. Rory

38. 37. Rory

39. 38. Cole

40. 39. Rory

41. 40. Rory

42. 41. Cole

43. 42. Rory

44. 43. Rory

45. 44. Rory

46. 45. Rory

47. 46. Rory

48. 47. Rory

49. 48. Cole

50. 49. Rory

51. 50. Rory

52. 51. Rory

53. 52. Cole

54. 53. Rory

55. 54. Rory

56. 55. Rory

57. The Story Continues...

58. Afterward

59. About Author

Prologue

THE METAL FEELS COLD against my skin, but I don’t dare move.

I’m pretty sure I haven’t taken a breath for a full fifteen seconds, which is a lot since my record’s eleven. I’m too afraid to breathe, move… anything. I have never received something so delicate in my life.

My fingers skim, tracing over the moon-shaped pendant that now hangs around my neck by a small silver bail.

I smile over at my mother. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

“It’s nice,” Lillian agrees with a tight grin. Less interested now than she had been earlier. Angling her head back, she finishes off the last of the wine in her glass.

The leather dips, squishing into my back. The muscles in my cheeks ease on a deflated breath. Disappointed by her reaction.

Why did she have to start drinking now?

“A beautiful gift for a beautiful little girl,” the man who’d gifted me with the necklace says, distracting me.

I make my smile overly gummy, beaming up at him. Showing off the gap that’s missing from the center of my mouth where my tooth had been.

“You think so?”

His eyes twinkle, glancing over at my mother and then back down to me. “As beautiful as her mother.”

Lillian huffs, snorting into her glass.

He doesn’t move his face, but his eyes rise, following the sound. The creases in the corners deepen before smoothing back out when they land on me again.

This isn’t the first time he’s given her this look tonight. It’s a mix of questionable curiosity and irritation. Lillian doesn’t care either way. Alcohol now fueling her mood.

I wish she’d put down her glass already.

Dismissing whatever he’d thought before with an easy smile, he’s watching me again. Only this one doesn’t meet his cheeks, not as spirited—genuine—as earlier.

My insides drop. I know it’s because of her.

“Is there something wrong? Do you not like your gift?” Those worry lines are back, only they aren’t filled with annoyance like when he’d been eyeing my mother. These ones are filled with concern for me.

My hand wraps around the pendant as a broken breath pushes past the gap in my mouth. There’s a pause but then I hear a similar defeated sound leaving his own.

Both of us upset but for two different reasons.

He leans forward, and I blink up at him through my lashes. Those lines even out again when I give him my attention. They’ve been doing that all night.

Pinch, smooth. Pinch, smooth. Pinch.

I’m not sure what they mean, only that they seem to diminish when I give him my attention. Like he’s enamored, his interest strange, but it doesn’t make me uncomfortable.

He taps at my hand still around the necklace. “Know what the most special thing about a moon is?”

“A crescent moon,” I correct. Proud of myself for remembering.

“You’re too smart. Where did you learn that?” His tone warms. Eyes shining as they lighten up in silent glee.

I shrug. “School.”

“Did you learn about the solar system? The stars too? How they twinkle in the sky?”

I nod my head to all of it. My moves overripe and with too much gusto, but I don’t care. Excited that he seems interested in me, Lillian never is. I decide then that I like this man, whoever he is.

“Did you learn why a crescent moon is special?”

My mouth puckers, puzzled as I try to remember but after a few seconds I give up and he laughs. I’m not sure why but it makes me laugh too.

I knew I liked him.

“Why?” I ask, excited now.

“The moon”—I open my mouth to correct him, but he beats me on a soft smirk—“a crescent moon is special because even though it doesn’t look like it’s all there, it is. It’s always there. It’s just concealed by a shadow.”

He swallows then and I watch as his throat bobs. Not understanding his reaction or his statement.

“Why does it have to hide?”

“It’s not hiding, it just has to go through phases. Like when we close our eyes at night and go to sleep. Always there, even when we can’t see it.”

I nod, thinking I understand, but I really don’t. It seems to put him at ease though, so I continue to do it.

“A crescent moon is special, like you.” His voice more taut than seconds ago. “So, I need you to promise me something, okay?”

My grip firms, agreeing.

“Promise me, you’ll always take care of this necklace. If you keep the moon with you, darkness will have light.” His voice lowers, face more drawn and serious than I understand why. “You keep the necklace, you keep the answers.”

“I keep the necklace. I have the answers,” I repeat slowly. Trying to commit it to memory.

His brows dip, creasing in focus. “Promise you’ll hold on to it for me?”

I bow my head sternly, gaze strong.

“Promise.”

One

Cole

TO WORRY IS TO believe that there is a need for doubt. And doubting is something that I do not do. I have never doubted my abilities before, so why would I start now?

If I questioned myself, then there would arise the headache of emotions that follow as such. Anxiety, grief, panic, dread…

…Fear.

A terrible sulking set of emotions that will only waste more of my time and energy that I could have used on looking for Rory instead.

Yes, I did have a momentary lapse of judgment before I knew she’d left. Trying to drink away her memory, even if it was of no use. Permanently like glue, she’s stayed stuck here in my mind since I’ve first known her. Met her. Saw her.

One miscalculation or misdirection is not going to change this for me. Rory may have packed up, stolen Finn’s car and shipped out but that doesn’t mean she’s gone. It just means it’s my turn to chase the rabbit.

That’s why I know with a hundred-percent positivity that we’re going to find her. The vixen may have slipped from under our noses, but I’ve always been good at tailing. Especially when it comes to Princess.

Rory is missing, but she’ll be found. It’s never been a matter of if, but when.

Nothing will stop me, same as it never has before. Not with Rory, not for my princess.

I’ve always had to work hard when it comes to Rory, and this time will be no different. Nothing but time standing in the way now. That and being openly ignored by every single other person in this room.

The second one a more current revelation.

Well, everyone except Eli’s dad, but the only reason he isn’t is because he’s getting paid. Sgt. Daniels is head of security for our families. The generous amount he gets paid to be here attests to him putting in more effort than everyone else.

Even if it is beyond minimal, it’s there. It’s an attempt.

At least it had been in the beginning, not so much anymore. His son’s soured attitude playing interference with his morals. His paycheck doesn’t benefit from taking the higher road. It had only been a convenience.

“Status update?”

My jaw grates when he doesn’t answer right away.

“I asked you a question.”

“I’ll speak up when I find something,” Daniel’s grits out. Shooting me an overly inflated eye over the top of his computer before getting back to work.

Just because he’s head of security doesn’t mean I deserve the extra attitude. If he ignores me one more time, I plan on giving him the longest of standing ovations with my middle fucking finger. That’s one of the nicest things I can possibly do.

I’m already dealing with enough as is.

Besides, the only attitude I’ve ever found somewhat pleasurable and not at all an inconvenient annoyance is currently missing.

My sole fixation for the last two days has been retracing every single step. Then backtracking it again. Retracing and doing it over some more. Focusing on any little detail that might seem relevant.

The task I appointed to myself. It’s also the only thing that has helped pull me from that lapse in judgment. I have purpose again.

I will find Rory. I need back what’s mine.

“Have you gotten into their system yet?” Finn asks agitatedly sometime later. His brows pinch so closely together in concentration you’d think they are one.

“Nope.” Eli’s dad doesn’t bother lifting his head this time and I want to laugh at the hypocrisy. I’m hated right now and still got more than a single syllable word.

Intimidation has its perks.

Somehow in light of all this, a victorious smile does slip out before my blood runs cold all over again. My eyes sting as ice spreads through my stomach.

Not that anyone cares or notices.

I am abandoned, confined to my artic of isolation across the room. So, all I have is time. Time to think and observe.

By this point, I can’t tell who is more annoyed. Sgt. Daniels, who is being hovered over or Finn, who seems to have lost all sense of personal space. Stuck to his back like a piece of spandex.

None of us have gotten a lot of sleep in the last forty-eight hours and it’s starting to show.

Sgt. Daniels openly growls. “Maybe I could get more work done if I didn’t have a parrot hunched over my goddamn shoulder,” he barks, shaking off Finn’s hand from where he’s placed it.

Finn sticks out a pointed tongue at the back of his head. Eli rolls his eyes, turning back to his own computer, catching it. He’s been set up right next to his father since he first arrived and hasn’t moved once.

Eli managed to hack into the Caspers’ security system the other night. That’s how he and Finn figured out Rory had taken his car.

Sgt. Daniels took that one step further. By not so legally hacking into the stoplight cameras and tracking the location of the car. Rory had been smart enough to disable Finn’s personal Wi-Fi hotspot and Bluetooth in his Aston Martin Vanquish.

It has taken us longer going through and piecing together all the footage. Eventually, he managed to pull together enough to figure out where she ended up. Ditching the car at some bus station about twenty minutes outside of town.

“Anything. Anything at all?”

“I’ll let you know when I have something.”

“Well work faster,” Finn says, waving his hand dismissively into the air. “I don’t pay you to sit around.”

“You don’t pay me at all,” Sgt. Daniels deadpans. “Your father does.”

Finn’s frown deepens. “And he’s busy on the phone right now.”

False. Abram hasn’t been on the phone for at least fifteen minutes. That tells you how invested Finn is in his surroundings.

His comment though, does have Abram rotating his front from the window. His fingers stall their scratching at his chin. Snapping him from his rooted thoughts by the single word.

I don’t have the slightest clue what is on his mind but if I were placing bets, I’d stake it being on the same as everyone else’s. The only one that matters.

Rory.

I should be thankful that I’m being ignored because had I not been, I’d probably have snapped at Finn hours ago. My patience nowhere near as refined as of late.

Still, no one corrects him.

Sgt. Daniel’s lips draw in. His endurance finally cracking a fraction.

Finn is testing his limit. He should be grateful the man has been trained to remain calm under high-pressure situations because he’s acting as if we’re trying to steal a candy bar from a vending machine. Not hacking into multiple security databases.

Sgt. Daniel’s focus is hard on the screen. A vein bulges, sprouting from his forehead. It rises going up and over, past the top of his smooth bald head.

Eli, sensing the hostility, tries to defuse it. The animosity so thick you’d have to be blind or, in this case, Finn not to notice. “Can you grab us some drinks?”

Hesitating, Finn stalls. Eli pushes further, claiming it will help keep him alert. Wanting a new coffee even though he already has three empty ones and a cold half-full one before him.

“It’ll help us work faster.”

That one sentence being all the motivation Finn needs. My best friend was out the door before he could spell caffeine. If he can spell it.

Daniels doesn’t say anything. The permanent line across his mouth still flat but his shoulders do drop a millimeter as soon as he’s gone.

His aversion to reaction something I wish I’d been granted when I had to tell Abram what happened to his daughter.

I don’t know what was worse. The hangover I’d been dealing with or the fact that I’m the sole reason for his daughter not going away once but twice.

Every nerve in my body sizzled back to life when I explained how I’d been the one to start the fire. Burning down the barn with his twelve-year-old daughter still inside.

His eyes had bulged in a clouded mist of judgment. His neck and face a splotchy shade of red by the time I told him everything.

Abram hasn’t spoken a word to me since. Calling Sgt. Daniels over immediately instead.

My fingers tighten. Locking around the leathered armrests. All this may have started because of me but it won’t end that way.

We will find Princess. That one fact you can bet on.

“Have we tried her phone again?” Finn wonders aloud, walking back carrying exactly four cups of coffee. Handing out one to everyone but me.

“She left her phone here,” I utter this time, scratching at my temple in irritation. “It’s upstairs in her desk drawer, remember?”

I know how I sound, but I don’t care. This is probably the tenth time he’s asked this question. My lack of sleep or my desperate need for caffeine making me snap.

“Did someone hear something?” He quips, pulling the cup from his mouth. A hidden grin only for me on his lips.

My eyes flash and a loaded breath pulls through my teeth. I want—need to hit something.

“Sounded a lot like it was coming from the banishment side of the room.”

He isn’t looking at me, none of them are but I know he can feel how my glare flits across his face because his stance widens.

My smirk as dark as it is cocky when he tips his head back down at the computer. That’s what I thought, asshole. Look away.

He may be as worried as the rest of us but that doesn’t mean he’s earned the right to throw a tantrum and act like a five-year-old. We’re all hurting.

Much to my own fraudulency, I’m the root of it all.

My thoughts the only thing keeping me company now. My opinion much like my logic. Exiled.

The room fell into a censored silence for a while after that. The only sound other than the impatient taps of my fingers is the short, clipped conversations between Eli and his dad. They lead to absolutely nothing.

A shadow casts itself over the room and it only maddens me that much more. It’s a reminder that another day is starting to settle, and we aren’t any closer than this morning. Another day she’s still missing.

Finally, Sgt. Daniels says the pair of words that have my heart pounding. Ricocheting inside my chest like it’s been jump-started with a pair of jumper cables. Brought back to life with the surge of a thousand volts of electricity.

“Got her!”

Air whooshes my lungs before they collapse.

He found her. He found Princess.

My feet move on their own accord and before I even know what I’m looking at, my face is plastered to his screen. Same as everyone else’s around his computer.

I have that rushed hyperventilation of someone who’s won the lottery. My prize knowing she’s safe and alive.

Always her. That one fact everlasting… even if she is no longer mine.

The fuzzy black-and-white footage starts to play, and I don’t dare blink. Refusing to miss anything.

More time passes and nothing happens other than the ordinary and my agitation grows. There’s nothing here other than everyday people loading on and off some buses.

Then my world shifts as my throat locks. My ribs scream at the suffocation, but I can’t let go because my hold, like my breath, is locked.

There she is.

Her hoods pulled up, shielding most of her face. Luck on her side. The cameras at her back helping conceal her. Much to my annoyance.

Rory’d been doing a good job, if not for the blonde wisps that poke out the sides after a soft breeze pulls out of nowhere. Her hold tightens along the drawstrings and that’s when I see them.

Those pearly silvered eyes coming into full focus. Even on a muted monitor, they shine. There she is, there’s my girl.

I don’t know if I’m more relieved or angry.

Comforted in the fact that soon we’d know which bus she got on. But enraged because I’d been the one to drive her away like this. The one to force her into taking such drastic measures.

She disappears from the frame and a growl rumbles deep from my throat. “Where is she?”

“She went into the bathroom. There aren’t any cameras inside.”

Hedging closer, I watch. My agitation grows as more and more people that are not her exit.

Seconds turn into minutes and minutes feel like hours. What is taking her so damn long?

My fingers twitch, drumming along my arm as I stand to my full height. It’s either this or pace and there isn’t a chance in hell I’m taking my eyes off the screen so tapping it is.

Come on, come on…

Abram points to the screen. “There!”

My insides reinflate.

Rory walks out. Her head is bent down this time as she comes back into sight. The move obviously intentional as she tries to shield her face from the camera. Her profile concealed by her hood before she disappears once again, hopping onto a bus.

No one says anything the entire time. Watching, fully focusing until her vehicle pulls out. As soon as the bus is gone, I feel as deserted as the now emptied terminal stall.

“Can you zoom in on her ticket?”

“No need,” Daniels says, pointing at the monitor. “The buses have the destination listed on the front. I just need to track its entire route.”

“Already on it,” Eli says, typing away on his computer.

Finally—I want to scream. We’re getting somewhere.

A cold chill breaks out over my skin. My eyes bouncing between Rory’s frozen frame on Daniel’s computer and the routes on Eli’s.

The good news is we know what direction she’s headed. The bad is there are nine stops and that’s just the start.

My teeth gnash together.

“Who’s to say she won’t buy another ticket and hop from location to location to divert us?” Rory is resourceful.

Finn’s eyes slice over in my direction. “It’s a start,” he sneers. “Besides, don’t you think you’ve helped enough?” Sarcasm dripping as it hangs there, reeking of his disdain toward me.

My nostrils flare.

He’s all fumes and hot energy.

That’s what I’m trying to help fix, asshole.

“It’s a start, not the answer. We should be cross-checking them all.”

“We’ll ask for your opinion if it’s needed or relevant.” Finn’s eyes narrow further. “Right now, you're lucky you’re here at all since this is all your fault, to begin with.”

“He’s right though,” Eli offers me that one small handout, even if it does come with a side-eye.

Finn’s shoulders swell. He knows I’m right too. His anger toward me is bypassing his stubbornness to see the truth.

Snapping his fingers in the next instant at Daniels, he says, “Cross-check everything.”

Two

Cole

IT’S WEDNESDAY. THE MIDDLE of the week and another full day has passed, and we still haven’t been able to locate Rory.

She’s now been gone since the start of last weekend, but Monday, Abram told the boys and me that we all need to act as if everything’s normal. So, here I am at school pretending everything is fine when it’s the opposite.

At least this week’s a short one.

I haven’t slept in days; Eli managed to piece together what Rory’s ticket said, even though his father said it’s unnecessary. Still, I think he realizes we can’t be too cautious.

We now know where she’s headed, but we haven’t been able to locate her since she’s climbed off her bus. Not from lack of trying, but more so lack of cameras at other smaller stations.

Rory’s like a ghost, only we’re the ones who’re left haunted.

And in case you cared, this has all been done without my input. Eli and Finn still aren’t talking to me. Well, not unless it’s to berate me. But since there isn’t a chance I’m leaving their sides, that means we all get to be uncomfortable.

It’s as glorious as being repeatedly kicked in the nuts with a boot made of sharpened glass.

Been a great time.

“Trouble in paradise?”

I rub at my eye sockets with a groan. “What do you want, Madison?”

Mentally I’m kicking myself for not heading directly to the gym for practice. Instead, deciding that I needed my English book from my locker. Like I actually thought I’d have the concentration to do homework.

As if my mind isn’t already in a million other places. Now I have an assignment that’s already days late, due tomorrow. I was cognizant enough, even in my diluted state, to request an extension.

It gets pretty easily negotiated after you remind the staff who you are.

“I don’t have time, so spit it out, Madison,” I hiss. The metal of my locker rings as it rattles off the frame. Slamming it more than closing it.

Much to no one’s surprise, she doesn’t jump or flinch or do much of anything other than observe me. That’s not Madison style, never easily intimidated. The one side of her mouth lifts in a demure smirk that does nothing but spread an angry heat up my neck.

Her mouth hooks higher and my gaze pinches.

“You know, I can’t say I’m surprised. I knew this would happen eventually.”

She doesn’t know shit.

“I don’t have time for this,” I bark. Mentally already halfway to the gym, even though my feet choose to stay planted. Betraying me. Cemented to this spot for some godforsaken reason.

Maybe it’s because she’s let out a sigh and it has the audacity to sound tortured. Like it’s her entire world that’s crumbling and not mine.

It rattles me more than I will ever admit, but she’ll never know that. My face placidly blank.

Besides, what does she have to complain about? Is she the one decaying slowly from the inside out? A cavity of nothing but absolute guilt.

A sharp pain knocks at my ribs. Doubtful.

“I know enough to know it was never going to work out.” Her chin lifts. “Not in the long run. You guys are too different.”

That pain gyrates down to my toes, curling into themselves. She doesn’t sense a thing. My tone as void of emotion as her willingness to respect boundaries.

“Are you trying to start something again with my girl?” Shrugging, I pretend everything is fine when it isn’t. Dying torturously slow inside with every new passing day Rory’s gone.

A slow, bitchy grin spreads across her face that at one time I might have found endearing. Now it only fills me with disgust.

I’d been too brass, and she knows it.

Shifting my bag, my feet decide then to actually work. Humoring this short conversation long enough.

Her feet follow, hovering closer than my own shadow.

“Cole, wait—” She reaches, clinging to my arm before I shake her off. Deliberately moving faster because I know she’s in heels. Not that it deters her, much to my irritation.

She makes borderline sprinting in those an anomaly.

“I wasn’t talking about Rory,” she huffs out and I freeze.

My pulse jumps from my skin, even though I only have that emptiness inside my chest.

“I was talking about you and the hellhounds,” she pants at my back.

My chest inflates with a full inhale.

What’d she just say? What’d she just accuse?

With menacingly slow force, my head cocks to the side. Giving her only my profile because she doesn’t deserve anything more.

She already knows what I’m doing. The silence thickens between us as she stupidly doesn’t cave. Her mistake.

I’m not surprised that she’s noticed the tension between the hellhounds. The girl has had a hard-on for me since forever, but I don’t appreciate being belittled. This is not her problem, therefore I do not wish to hear her opinions.

Madison’s throat bobs and it stirs that darkened thing inside of me. She had her chance. She chose wrong and opened her mouth instead of keeping it sewed shut.

The thought of the hellhounds’ reign coming to an end dwells in my mind for less than a second before a demoralizing sneer crosses my face.

Bulldozing has always been my favorite tactic.

“You may have the authority to question other people in this school the way you see fit. Treat them less than appealing… but that is only because we granted you that right.” My smile turns cutthroat. “Don’t forget who’s still in charge of the kingdom.”

“I thought—”

“—You thought wrong,” I say, slicing through her words. A roguish muscle twitches at the corner of my jaw.

This time I do turn. Craning my neck to an almost painful angle but I don’t dare turn my body all the way around.

“Becoming a hellhound isn’t an open invitation.” My blood pumps with wickedness. The coldness all-consuming. “Invite. Only.”

I ease back then, receding back toward my destination. My foot lifts off the ground. I’m done. Unfortunately, she’s not.

“Guess that means Rory doesn’t get a free pass either?” Her tone intentionally mocking at my back. “Being a hellhound, that is.”

Acid burns from her lungs. I can feel it, but unlike her, the feeling invigorates me. Madison should know better than to poke the beast.

How’s that saying go again? You can’t teach an idiot to breathe. Sometimes you have to let them choke on their own suffocation.

Is that a saying?

If it’s not, it should be.

“Even if she’s a Casper.”

Her words are like a knife digging that much deeper.

I click my tongue on a throaty laugh and it should be humorous how easily that cocksure, confident attitude falls from her face. If only everyone else saw that she’s not as assured as she pretends she is.

See what I mean? Smothered herself.

“Oh, Madison, you should know better than anyone.” My voice strong and sure. “That’s exactly what that means.”

Three

Cole

“DINNER?”

Silence.

“On me?”

Again, nothing. Come on, guys. I’m trying.

I know they can hear me. We may be in a locker room surrounded by a dozen other dudes but that never affected their ability to hear before.

Plus, don’t think I’ve missed the way Eli’s hand stalled on his duffel. Pulling out his shirt and slinging it over his head. Tugging his arms through with more force than necessary. It’s made of cotton, not steel.

I sit back, blowing air, resting my elbows on my knees.

Everyone else is too preoccupied with their meaningless lives to pay attention to us in here. Showering and changing before heading out. Me though, I’m biding my time. Trying to get more than a sliver of attention from my two best friends.

I fucked up. I’m aware, but I still need them.

My foot taps in agitation. “I’ve never known you to turn down a meal, Finn.”

The muscles along his back flex, stiffening. That moment—that fraction of pause all I need. I have his attention.

“You gotta be starving after all those layups, yeah?” Sucking on my bottom lip, I say one of the few things I know will get a response other than food. Flattery.

His eyes flick my way on a snort before going back to his bag and the sharp tension in my gut loosens the smallest amount.

A half snub may be good enough for most people, but I always play to win. I zero in on him. Determination has my shoulders rolling back.

“Sure, Eli blocked most of them, but hey, you put in a great effort, right?”

A glimmer of satisfaction pulses from my eyes while his turns hard. Absolute and disgusted.

Perfect.

I scratch at my chin. “Coach only corrected your footing, what… four times this practice?”

His eyes widen before narrowing back to those familiar slits of annoyance. My body hums with adrenaline. Food and compliments are only the start.

The perk of knowing someone your entire life is you learn their quirks, their defensives. Gaining Finn’s attention had only been half the battle.

I hear a sound beside me, and I don’t have to look over to know it came from Eli. He knows exactly what I’m doing. Finn, on the other hand, too hotheaded to realize.

All I have to do is mock his ballhandling skills a little and…

“Alright, fuckface—”

Stepping forward, he throws a pointed finger in the air, cutting off his own voice and my grin turns serene.

He’s never been one to disappoint.

“I didn’t see you doing much better out there. Where’s your ball control point guard?”

In a messed-up way, this feels good. Finn calling me out, in a twisted way, is progress. He may be yelling at me instead of talking to me, but I’ll take what I can get at this point. Anything is better than nothing.

An advantage, no matter how slim the margins, is still a gain.

Besides, I’ll need both of them on my side if I’m ever going to get Rory to forgive me when we find her. Because we will. We have to.

Finn shows his teeth. “Nose behind toes, captain,” he spits.

He’s insulting my ballhandling skills. Keeping my hips loaded and straight. Not leaning forward so far. Balancing your position on the court is what makes all the difference.

My mouth quirks before flattening. I can’t come off too eager or all this will be a waste.

Did I like getting insulted? Fuck no, who did? But if this is the only way he’s willing to talk, well, then I’d listen until my ears turned as blue as my balls currently are.

“Must have been pregnant out there because it seemed to me like you missed two whole periods.” Chest heaving as his fists lock to his sides.

I should be insulted, but my head falls back on a laugh instead.

I can’t help it, much to my own shock. The sound just bubbling out. Where does this kid come up with this stuff? Honestly, where?

When my voice does finally settle, a small bit of airiness cakes inside my chest. Knocking loose some of the pressure.

I may feel a fragment lighter, but Finn’s agitation has only grown. If he were a pot, he’d be boiling over instead of being at a slow simmer.

Insulting him further when I shrugged off his insults and dogged on his passion in one solid swoop.

“You’re such a dick,” Eli deadpans.

That now-familiar pain slices its way back down my sternum as the room falls back into a tolerative silence. I don’t have to look around to know everyone’s mind is back to the one girl we all know who uses that phrase like the execution of her imagination demands it.

The mirth of Eli’s sentence as delicate as my pull toward Rory. I shake my head. Not once have I ever felt connected to anyone else like her. Our pull at one time was weightless. Now it’s stranded, and I’m alone.

“So… dinner?”

I hate that Finn says that with hesitancy, like he needs something to fill the voided thoughts in his mind. We have never been awkward around each other.

“Fine,” Eli agrees. Eyeing me sternly, he says, “But you’re driving, and your wallet is about to become a bottomless pit.”

“Bottomless milkshakes and fries,” Finn affirms. “Get ready to pay up, buddy, because I’m starving,” he says, belching into his fist to clear his stomach on his way out.

Eli reaches, squeezing my shoulder on his pass by. Neck straightening as he looks me dead in the face for a second too long. The meaning behind his hold absolute.

I’m not forgiven.

He may be right, but at least it’s a start.

The diner’s packed tonight.

The place Rory liked to frequent with Hailey becoming our regular hangout and now becoming the majority of KPAs as well.

What is the word she uses when describing this place… eclectic?

Finn runs his hand up and down at the food baby that is now his stomach. Somehow still having room even as the waitress brings the check over.

I hand her my card, not even bothering to look at the receipt. Watching in both equal parts fascination and disgust as Finn slurps down the very last of what has to be his fifth shake.

Eli continues to stare out the window, same as he’s been for most of the meal. We’re back to the nothingness phase.

Awesome.

The conversation didn’t flow. It felt forced a lot of the time, but I’m just grateful they’d even agreed to come to begin with. Even if it’s only for a free meal.

This is the most interaction with their company I’ve gotten since this all started. Since we lost her.

Tucking my card away, I don’t bother thanking the waitress, the more than generous tip she’d see later will be thanks enough.

Finn wipes at his mouth in a gesture that he’s ready to go.

“Can I see the footage again?” I rush out. Not ready to leave.

Finn slowly sinks back down into his seat. Harsh lines form around his mouth as he angles his head to the side. Eli’s eyes already on me.

They hesitate. Their stubbornness makes my temple throb, so I dangle my key as a reminder of who drove. The message obvious. The sooner I rewatch, the sooner we all part ways.

It’s a cheap shot, but it’s the only one I have.

Eli’s frown is in full force. I know he’s regretting making me drive now.

“Come on, maybe we missed something. Rory’s still gone.”

This reminder the cheapest of cheap shots. The one thing I know will get the ball rolling. Using the self-inflicting wound that slices my heart into a million tiny pieces to my advantage. Even if it mutilates me in the process.

That cavity in my chest flames in disgust, but I push past it. Groveling won’t give me the answers I’m desperate for.

Pulling out his laptop, Eli slides it to the center so we can all rewatch together.

It starts the same as always.

Rory walks into the frame. The hoodie is pulled tight around her face. She angles her head, spotting the camera and turns back. Going into a restroom.

I watch with vigor like I don’t already have the whole thing memorized, looking for something—anything—I missed.

Eli has a fast-forwarded updated copy. Her coming back out seconds later now instead of minutes. Her face never directly meets the camera again before she climbs onto the bus and disappears.

I play it back again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

And agai—

Finn catches my hand before I can press the button. A defeated exhale falling from his mouth.

I ease back, grating my teeth. “Got something on your mind?”

“How many times are you going to make us suffer through this? I’m stuffed, exhausted, and I want to go home.”

I arch an eyebrow.

“You can do this on your own time at your own house.” Voice sterner now, he says, “…Alone.”

My molars lock. He didn’t need to add the “alone” part. That’s just him being an ass. I understood what he meant without the extra addition.

Leaning forward, I link the tips of my fingers together, eyeing them both. “Fine,” I snap. Cocking my head toward Eli. “Any updates?”

Nothing.

The quiet my answer.

I can see it though; they know something I don’t.

Furious all over again, my hand slams down on the closed computer when Eli goes to grab it. This isn’t about Rory any longer. This is about them and their bullheadedness.

Well, fuck that. They don’t get to decide when they are in and out of this friendship. We’re hellhounds. Besides, we all want to find her, so that means whether they like it or not, we’re in this together.

“Has Abram checked the place where she’d originally been picked up at?” My attitude less than chipper.

My attention is only on Finn, even though I can feel Eli’s icy glare from where I still refuse to move my hand.

“Seems like a good place to start. Going back to the only place she’s ever known.” My jaw is tight. If they aren’t going to share, then I’ll ask my own questions.

“That seems like not only a waste of our time and resources but indifferent. Her ticket told us she’s heading in the complete opposite direction.” Eli scoffs a sneer. “Maybe she realized the past should stay in the past.”

My eyes dilate into pure malice. I get the double meaning and don’t appreciate one syllable of what he’s insinuating.

Slowly the joints in my neck pop, craning my head when his mouth turns crooked. Now is not the time to insult my intelligence, my love life, or anything else for that matter.

If I’m treading with my back to the water, then he’s floating with his head barely above it.

They don’t get it, either of them. It’s like when animals run toward the intense flames of a forest fire instead of away. The attraction, the heat, all of it. It sucks you in. Drawing you back to the only life you’ve ever known.

They don’t agree, but that’s fine. When has that stopped me before?

Finn and Eli don’t need to know, I’ll get someone sent out tonight. By early tomorrow morning, I’ll know for sure. There isn’t a stone I’d leave unturned when it comes to Princess.

Doesn’t matter if it’s a waste of effort. Peace of mind outweighs the what-ifs.

The waitress comes back to clear our table just as I shoot off the text. The response from Sgt. Daniels almost instant. He’d have someone flown out in the next hour.

Shifting, she adjusts the square bucket under her arm. “Would you mind grabbing that for me?” She asks, almost sheepishly, after I lift my head back up.

“Sorry, we’re already short staffed as is, but with all the added business. Well… we’ve been a little overwhelmed.” She chuckles, but it’s nervous.

Her cheeks as red as the tight ringlets of her pulled-back hair. Eyeing the empty glass at the farthest side of the table when I still don’t move.

Shooting me a side sneer, Eli grabs for it, handing it to her with an apologetic smile when I just blink, perplexed.

My shoulder lifts in defense. What, like it’s my fault her limbs aren’t long enough to reach?

“Wait—”

My eyes suddenly slice in the direction of the clinking noise. Her mouth parts in surprise, but I ignore it. Her jumpy reaction not my concern.

“What was that?”

“Uh, what was what?” That nervous chuckle of hers back.

“That,” I say, pointing to her hand that’s still suspended, frozen in midair. “On the glass. The sound?”

“Oh, that’s my wedding band, sir. Sometimes it knocks the cups.”

She does it again. This time intentionally moving her finger to demonstrate. The small single-carat diamond on a silver band knocks again as the sound echoes on the rim of the cup.

The noise familiar. Similar to one I recognize.

The waitress pulls her arm back awkwardly. Leaving us before she finishes like she can’t get away fast enough. I find it more beneficial than troublesome.

That sound.

Almost identical to the sound Rory’s wrist makes when she knocks her arm into something.

“Pull the video back up.” My words hoarse and uncontrolled.

So unlike me.

“Honest to God, this is the last time,” I pant in my desire to know. Needing to be sure.

My hands squeeze. I’m willing them to steady when they start to tremble. I’d been so positive I’d had every detail of that video mapped out. Down to the second, now I’m unsure.

Desperate is what I feel.

The video starts again, and nothing is different. My eyes ping-pong along with the screen. Throat bobbing almost as fast.

The first half of the video the same as I expect. It’s the second half I need answers to. The half where she comes out of the bathroom. That’s what has my attention.

My pulse kicks. My brows dipping together before rising to my hairline. Catching the one small inconsistency to an otherwise foolproof plan.

I watch again to be sure, and a low rumble works its way up my chest. Noticing it again.

My back hits the expired foam-covered vinyl. It conforms to my back instead of springing forward as it should. I don’t know if I’m more relieved or furious with her for being so deceptive.

I click my tongue. That smart little minx.

My face provoking as I peer over at my boys. They’re still in a confused state of complete darkness.

“Rory didn’t get on that bus.” My tone is as aghast as I feel.

“What do you mean she didn’t get on that bus? We saw her?” Eli defends. Finn nods his agreement.

They aren’t getting it.

“Rory got on a bus.” My stomach dips. “Just not that bus.”

Finn arches a confused brow. “Are you on drugs? She’s right there.” Pointing at the screen with gusto.

“That girl isn’t Rory. It’s someone else.” My mouth twists. “A fake Rory.”

I wave a disgusted hand, dismissing the impostor.

Princess chose well, I’ll give her that. This girl both similar in height and weight to her, but she isn’t my girl. My Rory. I know that with a hundred-percent certainty now.

“She must have paid her or done something to convince this…this con artist to impersonate her.”

“You’re not making sense.”

I lean forward. “Whoever Rory convinced to pretend to be her messed up.”

“The hell are you talking about?”

Rory is a genius—a dead one—but still a genius.

She knew as soon as she saw that camera that she was in trouble. We had proof of her whereabouts and would use that to track her, so she bettered us. Swapping herself out with a double to give herself more time.

“She snuck by because we were looking for the girl in the hoodie, right?” They both nod, so I continue, wetting my lower lip. “This girl coming out of the bathroom hiding her face isn’t Rory.”

My blood warms all over again. How did I miss this?

“Look at her pulled-up sleeve.”

Both sets of their eyes are glued to the screen, but I can tell they still aren’t getting it. They don’t see it because they don’t know Rory the same as I do. How closely I watch her everything. I notice everything about her… almost.

I point. “There. The bareness of her arm. Have you ever seen Rory not wearing those tattered pieces of thread she calls a set of bracelets on her arm?”

The same ones with the crescent moon pendant hanging below.

The truth eases the harsh lines on their faces, morphing like putty does to the bowl. Slow but all-consuming as it’s absorbed.

Clarity hits them like a welcomed friend.

Finn’s eyes jolt. “What does this mean?”

“It means, caffeine up. We have another long night of footage.”

Four

Cole

THE SUN HAS BARELY peaked, and almost everything’s loaded and ready to go. Currently, I’m running on coffee and the truth.

After last night, we called Eli’s dad and he managed to pull up an extended version of the footage. The group of us watched long into the night until Rory—the real one—finally exited over two hours later.

Without the cloak of her hoodie, she no longer had a way to hide her identity. Instantly recognizable as soon as she stepped out. Bracelets and all.

I’d been paralyzed with relief until I realized that’s only a tremor of what I actually felt as soon as I got the call.

They thought it was a waste of time, but I’d been right after all.

The trauma of Rory’s past attracting her like a flame to a helpless animal. Forced to let go but drawn back to the blaze. A smoke screen of false ash trailing behind.

Finn had been keeping Abram up to date the entire time before he could meet up in person. So, he was there the same as everyone else when my guy called to confirm her sighting.

None of them thanked me. Not that I expected them to.

Everyone instead hovering over me. The photo of Rory on my phone with an apron around her waist, pen in one hand and paper in the other. Taking orders with heavy, lifeless eyes and a messy bun that was more messy than actual bun.

My throat locks, a large knot forming all over again. I’m the reason for all this. Deceit a present friend.

Steeling my spine, I shove past my guilt. It’s time to right my wrongs. Fix what I broke. The first step had been finding her, the next, the airport.

“That the last of it?”

“Should be,” Eli answers Finn with a yawn. Closing the trunk of the SUV with a thud.

The sun is just starting to crest over the horizon as the pair round the vehicle. Abram was already inside, waiting behind the wheel.

The silence of the morning fog settles along the lower part of the trees. Dew perching itself on the leaves, readying itself for another day. Only this morning does the light feel like it has purpose again. A warmth to my coldness.

I reach for the handle.

“Whoa, where do you think you’re going?” Finn’s words stalling me.

“Did you want me to hold the door open for you?” I fire off. “Where do you think I’m going? I’m going to get Rory.” Absolutely no way I’m not.

“Not in this car, you aren’t.”

My grip tightens. White-knuckling the fibered plastic.

Finn raises his chin, an ugly glint in his eye. The look doesn’t suit him, foreign on his face, unlike mine, who wears it like a second skin.

“This car is only for people who haven’t hurt my sister.”

He steps into me, and my hold drops.

“You’re just lucky I haven’t beaten your ass like you rightfully fucking deserve,” he snarls. Knocking foreheads. The fighting words spouting from his mouth do nothing to hide the wild frenzy in his eyes. “Consider your foresight as your penance for that.”

He shoves me then and I let him. The pain shooting through my collarbone abandoned. Nothing can compare to how I feel inside.

Because inside I am totally and completely dead without her. The only person ever to breathe life into me currently hundreds of miles away.

No number of threats, beatings or anything can change that singular fact.

“Is that for only now or a lifetime?” I mock.

I can’t help myself. My mouth detached from my mind. Doing what it wants.

“Because if we’re talking lifetime, the only one qualified to go get her right now just climbed into the back before you did.”

Darkness flickers in my depths, looking past Finn’s half-hunched-over state and straight at Eli. Waving the tips of my fingers and winking hello.

Jumping down, Finn slams the door behind him. Shoulders swelling as torment replaces the hurt in his eyes.

My veins throb. Blood pumping wildly. So over his bullshit. He’s no more innocent than I am. Same for Abram. I may be a fuckup, but I’m not wrong, and we both know it. Finn had been as cruel to her as I had.

“Every single one of us is guilty,” I pant. “So don’t pretend we aren’t equal on that front.”

His chest rises and falls. “Bull, you destroyed her, man.”

“Every single one of us,” I reiterate as Finn’s breath labors long past heaving. He can be mad all he wants, but those are the facts. None of us deserved her recognition, let alone kindness.

That’s what separated her from us though. She isn’t like us. Under too much sarcasm—more than realistically healthy—there’s goodness.

His eye pulses. “That was before.”

My posture stays rueful.

“So was this,” I yell, exasperated. “What happened was a long time ago. I can’t change the past. Why do you think I’m trying to fix it? I care about her.” I swallow on a pause. “…I care a lot.”

I might even be—

“—Pity you won’t be riding with us then, huh?” His face changes then. Mouth twisting in vile disgust and my blood runs cold once more. The sun can’t even help me now. His hatred toward me washing away my earlier thoughts.

“If it weren’t for me, you would still be looking elsewhere,” I growl. “The question you should be asking me is shotgun or back seat.”

He stalls and I see it then. The weight of his pain carried heavy on his upper body. The guilt as heavy as my own.

As soon as it arrives, it’s gone. Replaced with something else. I want to argue but can’t find the effort when those sturdy shoulders drop. The heaviness of defeat hanging openly in the air.

“Not this time, C, not yet.” Tone the softest I’d heard in weeks. Making it that much more painful when he climbs back inside.

Words as defeated as they are final.

“You’re on your own.”

Five

Rory

THE DAYS AT ALMA’S have never been easy. The shift’s long and exhausting. Constant movement, back pain, and then the bane of my existence, the bottomless pit of dishes.

I work on autopilot.

Mechanically making it through another day, same as I have a thousand times before. Same as I will continue to do until I have enough saved up to move on.

…Find somewhere else to run to.

When I left, I didn’t know where I was going.

After leaving, I wanted answers, but now all I want is far away.

I thought about going to see the ocean. I’d never been, and Hailey talked about it enough that I thought I might like it. That thought quickly ruptured as soon as those cerulean eyes popped back into my mind.

Shards of pain shot through my stomach all over again. The back of my eyes stung while I frantically dug through my book bag, only to realize I didn’t have the funds for another ticket. So, I did what I’ve always had to do.

I adapted.

Shedding the weight of the last few months like a salamander does to a limb. Molting from one life to another seamlessly.

Luck on my side when a girl who looked as lost as I felt popped into the bathroom at the station. It wasn’t hard to convince her to trade tickets. The hoodie, on the other hand, a harder sell, but I managed.

I hadn’t bothered to look at where my new destination was until I climbed onto the bus. I didn’t care as long as it was away from anything that reminded me of before.

The irony of it all is how I ended back up here. Our bus stopped for a bathroom break halfway to my new destination, but I never got back on once I realized where we stopped.

Maybe I needed the comfort, I don’t know. It’s all been one endless blur—

“Order up!”

Too late to go back now.

“I got it, Sampson,” I declare after he rings the bell for my order again. I know what I’m doing. Him somehow still unconvinced or just irritable.

I’d go with the latter.

“A little faster next time. My food’s gonna get cold.”

Glaring, I take the items without a word. Our distaste for one another evident in the brief time we’ve known each other. Alma hired him after I left, needing the extra help.

He dings it again and I shoot him a glare over my shoulder. That was right in my eardrum, asshole.

“Careful or that isn’t going to be the only thing crying out when I shove it up your—”

“—How are we doing?” Alma questions. Appearing from thin air.

“Just peachy,” I lie. The tension was palpable.

She slings her arm over my shoulder, a roguish smile twitches across her lip before looking at Sampson through the food window. “Treating our girl good?”

His smirk is charged but Alma doesn’t notice. The sound of my plate hitting the tray with too much force drawing her eyes away from him.

“You got it all?”

I shift, righting my arm with a grunt. Her concern deepens.

“Yeah, I’m good. Thanks, Alma.”

She gives my shoulder a little squeeze. “Anytime, hon.”

Alma knows me better than most people. That not working in my favor now as I head toward my table. Her eyes pierce their way into my back, same as they’ve been doing since I came here asking for my old job.

Watching me more closely than ever.

I know she can tell something’s wrong, but she agreed anyway. My penance is her hovering over me any chance she can.

She never says it, but I know she wants me to tell her what’s going on, but I can’t do it. Not yet, maybe, not even ever.

I’m not ready to open myself back up to that torture when I’ve just settled back into my old normal.

I try and keep busy, and I’m grateful this job allows this for the most part. New customers in and out daily. When we do hit the slow periods, I’ll clean tables, or wash dishes, anything to avoid what he did to allow to plague my mind.

It’s exhausting but it’s the only way I’ve been making it through.

At least on the clock. Late at night, another story.

That’s when my mind does nothing but wonder. Crying myself to sleep more nights than I will ever admit out loud.

The familiar humming sound of the fryers cooling my only company. Confined once again to the cot, same as all those years before. I was thankful Alma hadn’t removed it from the closet after I left.

The sun would rise too soon, and I’d do it all over again. Copy and pasting myself into autopilot.

“After you finish up with your bill, can you drop table six their food?” Alma asks over my shoulder hours later.

“Sure, no problem.” Not bothering to lift my head as I type in the total at the register.

“You’re the best.” I don’t have to lift my head to hear her relief. “Maybe show off those silver sparklers while you’re at it. Some handsome fellas at that table.”

She lets out a low whistle and I roll my eyes on a snort, counting the last of my change. Alma may not be as young anymore, but that doesn’t stop her from gawking when she sees something pretty.

“You’re insane, woman.”

She grabs at my jaw and my eyes are forced to hers. Examining me intrusively as my cheeks pudge over her bony limbs.

Her eyes shine before I feel her amusement. “My, my, is that an actual smile I see?”

I swat her hand away, looking back down at the register, suddenly self-conscious.

“And bashful too? What happened to you, girl?”

She means it playfully, but my throat bobs, thickening in a layer of saliva. If she only knew…

The temperature in the room drops as abruptly as he pushes his way back into my mind. My grip locks on the counter as my eyes slam closed. A mirage of images of his face appears in my head and it’s like bone-cracking torture.

My heartbeat escalates, pounding.

I feel light-headed. I am light-headed.

No, no. No!

Cole Kellet is not allowed to take any more from me than he already has.

I have to force them out, force him out.

If only my heart would listen to my head. I’m crumbling, crashing deeper every day in this broken abyss and I hate it. I hate what he did to me—to us.

Hate it all.

How he made me feel, the way he looked at me. I want them all gone. Good or bad, I don’t care because it can’t fix what he caused. What he’s done.

He. Means. Nothing.

My mouth parts in a choked gasp. Eyes springing open in the same beat.

Blindly, I reach for the four plates of readied food.

What table did Alma say it was again? My brain still a jumbled mess.

Three? Five? Eight?

Even Sampson, in his dull headedness, shoots me a look of concern when I have to double-check the table ticket. So, I can only guess how delirious I look.

I brush it off regardless. Squaring my shoulders and getting back to work if only to convince myself that I’m alright.

Table six? I take a deep breath. Table six.

Why do I have to keep reminding myself of this?

Table six. You’re okay. We’re doing this.

I smile awkwardly, passing an elderly man as he wipes extra ketchup from the side of his mouth with his sleeve. The jowls on either side of his face worse than his need for manners.

Deep breaths, Rory. Count to five, in. Hold it. Count to five, release.

Nodding, I pass a family of three. The child is throwing a tantrum. Neither parent coddles her as tears streak down her cheeks.

The sound as loud as it is disrupting in the small dining area.

We’re halfway now.

You’re doing great. No one can tell you're slowly declining.

One step at a time.

Just… breathe.

Dishes crashing to the floor ring with a hollowness around the room. Although abrupt—they’re the only thing to outdo the little girl’s spirited vocal cords.

Looking down, I realize I’m the one who’s dropped them. Pieces of cheap white ceramic lying in broken shards around my feet.

My hands tingle in awareness, frozen midair but it has nothing to do with my mess or the eyes of everyone around me.

I swallow deeply as my head and heart quiet. Why does it feel like I should be the one on the ground and not the food?

My eyes as clouded as my brain.

Slowly my head rises on a blink, and I remember why I reacted the way I did. It all reclicks into place as soon as I see that hint of challenge in that smile.

The edges grow higher, and it makes my head bow, sluggish. Plummeting past the foundation.

“What up, lil sis? Long time no see.”

Six

Rory

“YOU READY FOR A chat now, or did you need help cleaning that up first?” Finn notes, pointing at the untouched mess around me.

My features stay tight. The grease that oozes its way past my shoes and into my socks the least of my worries now because they’re here.

I swallow but it feels scratchy.

Finn’s here but he isn’t alone. He may be the only one smiling, but it isn’t without merit.

I blink dramatically, then do it again. Still not trusting my own vision.

Is this really happening? Real life?

My pulse accelerates but then slows when I notice a certain dark-haired boy isn’t with them. That at least one relief.

All three of them peer over at me with different expressions. Each a little more reserved and cautious than the last, Finn’s being the best, or worst. I still haven’t decided.

They’re really here?

“Swallow your tongue?” Eli asks.

My head cranes his way with the same slowness. His attempt to ease some of the tension doesn’t work. Unease wraps around my shoulders as I shake my head from side to side.

His own nod tight as something flickers in his eyes; hurt, I think, but I never get to ask. Alma comes over, apologizing as she starts to clean up the mess.

She has no idea who these people are. What they mean to me. How much hurt they’d each, in their own way, caused me. Even Eli. My twisted brain chose to re-befriend him after I’d left the first time.

Bending down, I overeagerly start to help her. It’s easier than being held hostage under their intense gazes. Broken things are something I’ve been familiar with my entire life anyway.

My legs feel heavy as rocks when I stand back up once we’re done less than a minute later. Alma quickly makes herself scarce, heading to the back. Leaving me here, stuck and alone. Yet again.

“Does this mean our foods on you?” Finn starts. “I mean, not literally, but I guess… I do, actually.” Sounding thoughtful.

I look down, groaning at the ketchup and mustard stains on my shirt. At the same time hearing a soft thump followed by a grunt from my brother under the table. Abram shooting Finn a less than amused expression by the time my head rises again.

“Do we reorder then?” Finn asks, opening his mouth, wanting to know seriously this time. He never does joke about food. “I prefer to look like the mess when it’s my meal.”

Another thump.

I can admit I know I don’t look the best, but exhaustion, both mentally and physically, will do that. I don’t think I’ve gotten a decent night’s sleep since I left the Caspers’. Before everything went to shit… again.

“Right so, I would like a burger, no tomato. Ketchup that isn’t being worn by you. Same for the mustard.” Glancing at my shirt again. “Oh, and a side of ‘what the fuck happened to my sister?’” Words so bitter by the end they bite.

My heart surges as my features grow tight.

This time, Abram doesn’t try and pretend to be nice as he kicks at his son’s knee. Finn acts as if he doesn’t feel it. Fingers crossed, resting on the table as his concentration stays wholly locked on me.

“I… you were all supposed to forget about me,” I say so low I don’t even know if they hear me because I can barely hear myself.

Eli’s shoulders swell seconds later, and I realize they all have.

A fresh batch of anger flickers behind Finn’s lashes so strong that a jolt of energy blazes my spine. Washing away any of my insecurities with it.

I don’t know if it’s out of sympathy for me or rage for not answering his question. Either way, I don’t like it.

It’s not any of his concern, same as it is for Abram and Eli. I’m no one’s problem.

“What are you doing here?” Tone sterner this time. My resentment helping.

This time it’s Abram who heaves an expectant breath like he doesn’t like my question. Like I’m the one who made them come out here. Like I owed him more of an explanation of what I did with my life.

His posture may be lax, face stoic, but I can feel the quietness of his dwindling patience. It’s like the bomb of his composure is millimeters from exploding all over the ground.

“You tell us first,” Finn quips, lifting his chin defiantly. His natural competitiveness trying to outweigh my stubbornness.

I shrug. “I left.”

Pretending I’m indifferent, cold. Detached. Anything but what I really am, but everything that he is. Something swirls low in my stomach. I shove it down.

We don’t think about him.

Abram draws out air, and it sounds tired. He sounds tired. “I’ll have the same as Finn. Add a coffee to mine though.” He rumbles the last part, almost an afterthought, rubbing at his temples in exhaustion.

Eli repeats what he’d like with the same dullness.

I don’t bother writing it down. I don’t need to. Their disappointment as engraved in my mind as the menu is.

I should be relieved. Abram has given me an out, so why do I suddenly feel like the guilty one?

Sidestepping away in a daze, I start toward the counter to put in the new order, only to stall midstep. Pretending I don’t hear what Abram says at my back as I keep moving.

The simpleness of the sentence trapped in my mind long after I bring them their new food. Way past the dinner rush and late-night crowd.

They stay. Unified in holding up that one promise.

We aren’t leaving until we talk.

Seven

Rory

“I’LL BE IN THE back if you need me,” Alma says, shooting me a look over her shoulder as I head to turn off the “open” sign.

After they all refused to leave, I had to tell Alma something, or she would have called the cops. She seemed reluctant at first after I told her who they all were, but I think she understood after they stayed all day, there was only one way to get them to go.

So, she caved, much to my inconvenience.

Agreeing because she trusted me, not them.

Clicking the dead bolt, my stomach turns. A reassuring clunk, the finality of being stuck inside. I want to throw up.

A small part of me had hoped they’d been lying and left after the lunch rush. That would have made everything easier. Disappointment something I knew. A substance I can handle.

This, them staying out of my comfort zone. It put me on edge.

“You know, in my experience, when someone leaves the Caspers, they’ve been known to live, learn, and let go. You just live.” The words firing from my mouth.

“I don’t know what that means.”

Eli’s eyes pinch closed. Pinching at the bridge of his nose on an exhale. “She was insulting you, you moron.”

Finn’s chest puffs, vexing.

I imagine he would have started banging his chest all guerilla warfare style if Abram hadn’t interjected. Telling rather than asking me to take a seat. Scooting over, so I have to take the only one available beside him in the booth.

Digging my fingernails into the softest part of my palms, I do as he asks, only to pacify them. The sooner they get whatever they want, the sooner they can leave.

I had made this choice unlike when I was twelve. This time, I chose to walk.

“Finally,” Finn grumbles. “My ass is numb.”

Eli smacks him on the back of the head and Finn shoots me an apologetic look. Rubbing at his scalp on a scowl.

Abram clears his throat. “As Finn concluded—although unorthodox—we made good on our promise. An explanation of how you ended up here would be nice in return.”

“You don’t want to know why I left?”

I suspect they already know. Or the iconic silver Ferrari sitting in the parking lot would have left by now too.

I’d spotted it earlier. A wave of familiar awareness crashing over me but refusing to acknowledge it since. Keeping my head down and avoiding the windows the rest of my shift.

“We would all appreciate that,” Abram begins. “But right now, I’d like to know how your day was? Looked steady to me.”

My mouth gapes. The question completely stuns me, catching me off guard.

“It was alright.” My voice flutters as he watches me with unhurried anticipation. “Nothing I’m not used to.”

“Good. That’s good.” Abram’s tone is even but I don’t miss how he swallows. Throat bobbing up and down simultaneously.

“Know what I think? I think you’re selfish,” Finn spits out suddenly. Tired of the roundaboutness.

My head snaps so fast across the table I’m surprised I don’t rupture a nerve.

“You could have talked to us, any of us, but you chose to be selfish when you left. Did you not think we’d worry? That we wouldn’t care?”

My neck straightens. “Why would I? History with this family something that has never been on my side?” I try to choke down my bitter laugh, but it still somehow bubbles free.

Finn’s cheeks flare a bright red like I slapped him.

“Things are different now. You know that,” Eli interjects softly.

I laugh again.

“Gone, poof!” Finn spits out. Having the nerve to look borderline offended. “Without telling anyone, not even me.” He sounds pained.

“I don’t owe you anything.” My eyes are alive and sharp. “None of you!”

“News flash, lil sis. Dad is still your legal guardian, so yeah. You do owe it to him.”

“Two. Weeks.” I grit out through clenched teeth.

That’s all the time I have left before I turn eighteen. Before I’m free.

Finn snaps his fingers beside him but never turns his head. “Eli, you’ve always been the smart one. How long is that?” Voice emotionless.

“…Uh, fourteen days?” Confused as the rest of us.

“Fourteen days. Ding, ding, ding! We have our answer, folks.” He pauses and my teeth grate. “You’ll be coming back with us whether you like it or not. For fourteen days, you don’t have a choice.”

He crosses his arms, pacified in knowing I’m trapped. My resolve splinters.

Finn is right and I hate it. Abram has every right to ship me back and there isn’t a thing I can do about it. Not for two weeks at least.

“Now…” His tone lowers. Adrenaline radiating off his high. “You can start from the beginning—”

“—and we’ll sit here and listen,” Abram coaxes in gently. “No questions asked. Let you talk, or you can come back—”

“—and be grilled relentlessly until I wish you happy birthday in fourteen days and then you can do what you want,” Finn finishes. Taking back over his monologue.

The muscles in his neck work.

“Consider it my early birthday present.” His smirk charged.

“We came back because we wanted to, Rory. I want my daughter back with me. Where she belongs.” Abram eyes Finn. “In our house. Your home.”

My eyelids stutter. I’ve never heard Abram speak so passionately about me before. In the past, he’d made me believe I’m not wanted. That I didn’t deserve his love.

Now he just sounds tired, strung out.

Always clean-shaven, I notice the thin layer of scruff along his chin. Sinking into the newfound hollowness of his cheeks. This isn’t the Abram I know.

Something unfamiliar passes then. An entire civilization worth of work passing, crumbling from his face. Decade’s worth of ruin washed away in a day.

How does that happen? One minute I want nothing to do with him and now I feel nothing but calmness as he watches me through stilled eyes.

Unhinged is what I’m becoming.

I shouldn’t be affected, but now I’m not so sure.

A shadow falls over his pupils. “I told you I’m done letting you down and I meant it.”

Finn reaches for my hand, and I let him. “We came because we care, lil sis.”

My eyes bounce around between the three of them. When they land back on my brother, he smirks but it fades into nothing.

I know then they are telling the truth.

They care.

They want me.

They came for me.

…This time someone came back.

Awareness hits me like a solid punch to the gut.

Not just one of them, but all of them.

I hadn’t needed to run like I’ve done so many times before. I could’ve found someone because I have someones—plural, who care. Who would have listened. I’m not alone anymore.

That lone thought liberating.

My throat clogs.

“What do you want to know?” I ask, looking down at our still entwined hands. My gaze stays locked on Finn’s iron hold as I blink away the moisture pooling on my lower lash line. That feeling far too familiar as of late.

His thumb strokes my knuckle. “Everything.”

“I don’t know where to start,” I admit honestly.

Eli’s hand falls, landing on top of ours. “The beginning is a great place.”

A single tear falls, freely running down my cheek. The added touch overwhelming. It’s one of solidarity, of support.

The air sticks to my lungs but somehow, I manage a nod. Yes, I say. Their resilience gives me strength.

“This might take a while.” Voice as rough as sandpaper.

“We have nothing but time,” Abram says, almost sounding bemused.

My heart skitters, ribs beating unnaturally strong.

“Okay,” I breathe out.

Shifting, I angle my hips so that I can look at all three of them. Staring them down on equal fronts.

Opening my mouth, I begin to share my story. Shedding the truth of my early childhood and what it’d been like growing up with my mom to now.

They listen, same as they promised. Letting me ramble on for hours. Each new memory released out into the world. Shedding one for another. Like a butterfly does its chrysalis.

I tell them everything. The weight of it all no longer my own to carry.

Just like they asked. Just like I hadn’t realized I needed.

Eight

Cole

I GUESS ALL THREE of us had the same thought.

My fingers run along the smooth edge of the wooden bat. Not at all surprised, they had the same idea.

It’s late or early depending on your prerogative. Not that, that matters. Time blurring together in one continuous loop for a while now.

Rory is safe and that’s all that matters.

My hope is that she’s resting at the hotel she’s at with Abram. Getting more than the hour—two tops, I’d gotten on my separate trip out.

I had been serious when I told them I’m coming. Nothing could stop me, nothing. I owed Rory that much even if none of the others cared if I showed.

Pleasing them no longer my concern. I tried but realized no amount of pushing or bribing was going to change their minds. They’ll come around at their own time.

My sole focus is back on my girl. Even if by technicality she believes she isn’t mine as of current.

Physically, she’s untouchable but mentally I know she’s mine. Ingrained in her head much as she is in mine.

We are the same like this. Equal in our unescape from the other.

It should be alarming how that one little fact satisfies me. Pushes me to keep going. I never said I was sane.

Eli gestures, lifting his head. Finn is smug, barely holding back his smirk.

My grip firms. I hear the slight crack of wood splintering and loosen my hold. Can’t have my fun toy snapping in half before all the entertainment.

Too bad for me, my fingers are as twitchy as my nerves.

The edges of my eyes crease. Shooting a scathing look at the two people I still consider best friends even if they ditched me.

That had been yesterday though. Today a new day.

A fresh start for retribution.

The dirt and rust caked around the base of the trailer like the wrapping of a present. My grin turns vicious. I always have found comfort in ruin.

Guess I’ll have to go inside to find my prize.

I move first, and my smile fades, stepping inside. I don’t pay much attention to anything. Letting my wrists do the talking, swinging at any and everything instead.

I can’t or I’d already be back in my car halfway back to the hotel. Chewing Princess’s perfect ass out for being so careless. Living so recklessly. The front door was barely on its hinges, for Christ’s sake.

Using that as my fuel, I carry on.

Finn, Eli, and I work together while also not, at the same time. All of us here for the same purpose. Each with our own agendas when it comes to blowing off the steam.

I’m not sure how long we stay inside. Smashing, tearing, or ripping apart anything in sight. Windows, cabinets, tables, a couch, the TV, and even her pathetic-looking mattress in the back. Nothing is safe in the hands of the hellhounds.

We don’t stop until every last item is pulverized to dust. Making it unlivable ever again.

Sweat drenches the middle of my back. My shirt had been stuck to my skin before I’d peeled it off over my shoulders. I have that jitteriness again. Eager to grab what I’d sat down by the tree seconds before they arrived.

“We aren’t done,” I grunt. Wiping at my brow.

The winds outside have picked up a bit since earlier. The chill feels nice now that I’ve put in a solid workout.

Finn and Eli shoot me equal expressions of confusion. But it’s Finn who speaks up. The longer parts of his hair blow in the breeze as he speaks.

“What do you mean?” His mouth twists. “No way she’ll ever be able to live in that shithole again. We nuked it.”

I know that, but that isn’t enough. Not for me.

Their turmoil shifts into recognition the second I pull out the can of lighter fluid. Balling up my shirt, I douse it with every last drop. Tossing it inside the opening that used to have a door.

Their eyes as dangerous as I feel when I pull out the lighter. The same one that had been the start—the reason she left—now used to seek justice.

Raising it, the small flame dances even as the air stills around us. Their eyes haunting as they reflect off the yellowish-orange glow.

“We started this together. We finish this together.”

That’s our rule. We don’t break it. Personal opinions be damned.

We may not see eye to eye currently but that doesn’t matter. This isn’t for us. This is for Rory and that makes all the difference.

I jerk my chin. “On the count of three.”

Both nod in agreement.

Finn starts, “One.”

Followed by Eli, “Two.”

My pulse pounds. “Three.”

The single flame spreads into a wildfire of warmth and light. Popping and cracking as the tin of her trailer hisses its disapproval.

I don’t move, don’t breathe. Exalted, wholly to my spot.

The flames grow higher. Rising the longer it flourishes.

A shudder rips past my shoulders. Chaos is as devastating as it is beautiful.

Nine

Rory

THIS MORNING WHEN I woke up, I felt lighter. Cleansed in a way.

Once again reconstructing the armor I wear like a shield. A few of the dents polishing themselves out after yesterday.

I’m not sure if I’m ready to settle back into my life at the Casper mansion yet, but for a little under two weeks, I don’t have a choice. So, I’m going back.

There is one thing, however, I had to do before we left. This one non-negotiable.

“Alma,” I yell. Sprinting over to her as I jump out of the car.

Her hand drops from the lock when I ram into her. My hold tightens when the familiar passion of her chuckle hits my ears. It’s of equal parts surprise and sadness.

“Couldn’t leave without saying goodbye, could ya?”

“Never,” I gasp out.

There are hugs that are gentle. Giving you space to breathe. This is not one of those. My breathing slows, melting into her. She has a power in her hold that I never wanted to pull away from.

Alma’s muscles loosen before squeezing a fraction tighter, pulling back.

“How’d you know I’d be here?”

I choke back a sob. My smile gummy. “It’s like I know where you work or something.” This restaurant only her entire life.

“You’d always been diligent. Can’t say the same for my cook.” A puff of air pulls through her nose. “Running late as usual.”

“Sampson?” I snort. “What a stupid guy.”

If she doesn’t agree, she doesn’t show it, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear instead. Eyes molten as they are clear.

“So, I guess this is it then?”

“What?” Tears burn at my lids. Suddenly panicked. “No!”

“Child.” Her tongue clicks, and my lip thins. This was her scolding tone.

She runs her thumb along my cheek. Almost like she’s trying to commit my face to memory. Eyes as focused as they are decided.

“You don’t belong here anymore.” Her head angles stiffly behind me. “That’s your family now. They need you, same as you need them.”

“You’re my family too,” I defend.

“And I always will be.” Alma’s fingers pinch at my skin. Eyes glistening. “As happy as I am to see you, you can’t keep running back here.”

“What are you saying?”

My eyes widen, a dizzying spell sweeping over me.

“I don’t know what caused all this, but I know your home is with them now.” Her voice grows bold. “Our time together after today will remain where it belongs. Where it should stay. In the past.”

My chest surges, pupils swimming. I don’t understand. Is she trying to get rid of me?

Her head shakes on a soft chuckle. Face tender, loving. The complete opposite of how I am. “It’s unfair to lie to yourself. In all our years, we laughed, sure, but you thought you could ever only cry alone. With yourself.”

A lump settles in my throat. Her wisdom as blinding as it is igniting.

My throat catches. “You heard me, then? All of it?”

She gives me a sympathetic look.

I should be upset that she’s eavesdropped, but I’m not. I could never be mad at the only woman who’s ever looked out for me.

“Those people got you to do something I never could. They got you to open up. Talk. Express what’s inside that sharp mind of yours.”

“We talked,” I defend.

“Maybe,” she agrees. “But never like that.”

She’s right, and it is headache inducing, annoying.

For so long, I shut things out. Moving robotically to make it through each day. Breathing but not living.

Stuck in my own form of purgatory, like Lillian. Her death is the reason I’d been forced to wake up. Flourishing like a flower that found its bloom once I had.

“You think this is the right choice?”

Alma’s head jerks back. Hating that she also catches the insecurity in my voice.

Her brow arches. “You think those four boys would have come all this way if they didn’t think you are worth it?” Disbelief tinges her voice.

I give her a tight, unhappy smile that wouldn’t fool a clown. She said four, not three. Alma noticed Iceman’s car yesterday too. It’s here again. Far enough away that it’s buried in the shadows but not unnoticeable—his favorite place to be.

My chin dips, folding in on itself. “How’d you know?”

She huffs, shoulder standing proud. Carrying too much pride and self-worth.

“I may be old, but I wasn’t born yesterday. I know what hatred that’s really disguised as hurt looks like.”

My lower lip wobbles as I focus on nothing. Flicking at a piece of dead skin along my thumb until it tears. Cutting too wide.

The pain is instant, but it’s better than talking about this. About him.

One minute I want to smash that too-perfect face with my fist and the next, all I can do is cry. The second I’d done, a lot.

The other means I’d have to be within reaching distance and that’s something I don’t think I can manage. Not without the second part happening again.

It’s a dilemma I’m still processing.

“People will break you, Rory.” Iceman doesn’t break things. He pulverizes them. “Cut you open with or without ever intending to. You’ll bleed at first but then you know what happens?”

She continues before I can answer. Unaware that my insides have unraveled themselves to the gravel.

“One day you’ll heal and all that will be left is a scar.”

My shock shoots all the way through my teeth. “The scar isn’t what I’m worried about.” I have plenty of those.

“Then what are you afraid of?”

I exhale but it’s rough. Her intrusiveness easier to avoid when facing forward, so that’s what I do.

Although shattered into a million pieces, I know deep down my heart’s still in his hands and it kills me because I never asked for it to be his. He took it without permission.

If he has it, then there’s no hope for me. He’ll break me over and over again and I’m trapped. I don’t know how to set myself free.

That’s what I’m afraid of.

“He came so far; he should have kept going.” Heaving out sarcasm is easier to express than other thoughts.

“You’re being stubborn.”

“I think I’ve earned it.”

“You might change your mind one day.”

About being stubborn? I snort, not likely.

Finn steps out of the still-running vehicle then. Opening the trunk and shuffling the loose duffels around.

The movement shoots something back to my memory when I spot my bag in the pile. Before I didn’t think I wanted to know but now I need to. My book bag on top as he slams it back shut.

I jerk my head in Alma’s direction. “You remember that book you gave me a long time ago?”

Guess I did want answers after all.

“The red one with the little girl on the cover. Yes?”

“Where did you get it?”

“I found it on a table after a customer left it behind.”

An unusual pinch sets in the corners of her eyes. Something off about it but I don’t know what or why.

“Why didn’t you throw it away?”

She studies my face closely on a pause before saying, “Would you have thrown it out?”

My shoulders fall. “No, I guess I wouldn’t have.”

Her head cocks in agreement as if to say exactly.

Alma knows how I am with reading. Part of her I like to fault for my obsession with books.

“Why give it to me?” I rush out.

She gives me a more stern look this time and my frown deepens. I already know the answer to that too.

“Time to go, short stack,” Finn says interrupting as he jogs over. Feet crunching on the gravel before coming to a stop before us. “We’ve got a long day ahead.”

My head pulls away because I still don’t understand Alma’s twisted appearance. She seems jumpy and I don’t think it’s because of Finn’s appearance.

Finn clears his throat, tucking his hands in his pockets awkwardly. Several drawn-out seconds passed—Oh, right!

“Alma, this is my brother, Finn. Finn, Alma.” Introducing them officially.

They’d been in her restaurant all day yesterday and last night, but I’d been the only one to tell her hello or goodbye.

“Did you say the B word?” Finn asks, smiling demurely.

It stirs something inside me because we—nope—are definitely not focusing on how it’s melting my insides.

Nope definitely not focusing on that.

Just stating facts. Yep, that’s all we are doing.

Alma thankfully takes some of the pressure off me by extending her hand.

There’s an awkward pause, her hand hanging out in limbo. The weight on my shoulders settles like a whoosh of air when his mouth curves up again.

“Anyone who’s a friend of my lil sis deserves more than a handshake,” Finn asserts. Surprising us both when he pulls her in for a hug instead.

My ribs literally squeeze and melt under the intensity of the sweet gesture.

To either of them, it’s probably nothing, but to me, it’s like my two worlds are colliding. The old part of my life solidified with the new.

One accepting of my past, the other, my future.

It’s a surreal moment, to say the least.

Finn pulls back but doesn’t let go completely. “Something tells me you know how to make a mean milkshake and fry combo.”

Winking playfully in my direction as I roll my eyes. Alma the only one who finds his naturally flirtatious personality amusing. Unknowing that she’s laughing entirely at my expense.

Finn looks over his shoulder, a somberness settling then as he breaks the hold. I know what that look means without him having to say it. It’s time to go.

“I’ll give you two a minute.” Backpedaling with two stern fingers pointed from my eyes to his. Waving them back and forth between us. “But seriously, only a minute.”

The moron is already halfway back to the car.

I could fire something witty off about him taking more time to pick out a pair of shoes in the morning, but I don’t have the heart.

Not right now, at least. Not when this is… goodbye. For good this time.

Alma’s right, I can’t keep hiding. And as much as it hurts, it’s time to move on from this place. I can’t use it as a crutch anymore.

Lillian may have been stuck to her past but that isn’t going to be me. Not anymore, not ever.

She pulls me into her chest, and I bury my neck into her shoulder. This is it.

“You be strong, okay? Don’t forget to show them all the Rory I know,” Alma demands. Expecting nothing less from me.

I nod into the crook, promising her with everything that I am, that I will.

“You’re going to be fine. I promise.”

She somehow manages to get a few sentences out. Whereas all I can choke down is the saltiness of the tears coating my mouth. Alma has always been stronger than me.

My grip tightens. Never wanting to let go.

“Same for you.” Managing to somehow get a few words out. For her benefit, not me.

“Always.”

“Always,” I repeat.

I peer over my shoulder when Alma calls out my name as I’m about to climb into the SUV. Her grin so wide it distracts from the sadness coated behind her lashes.

“Don’t forget to let those silver sparklers shine, alright?”

My lip twitches on a wave. A quiet reverie sets in my bones as soon as I take my seat in the back, not looking back again.

The car ride to the airport as quiet as the flight itself. No one pushes me to talk the entire time and I’m grateful.

It’s not until later, sitting in the car that’s headed back toward the Caspers’, that the question comes to me. Something I never got the chance before to ask.

“Why did you come back for me?”

Finn’s mouth is grim, downturned. Almost like he’s offended, but I don’t back down. The formalness of his posture doing the same.

He looks at me as if the answer is obvious, but it isn’t. Not to me at least.

“We’re Caspers. We stick together.”

Ten

Rory

I FIGURED WHEN I came back, things would be a little different, but I definitely hadn’t been expecting this.

The hallways of KPA are the same.

Students littering around sipping coffees and reeking of privilege. Nothing my psyche isn’t used to by now on a Monday.

Bypassing my locker, I head straight for my first class. The warning bell hasn’t rung, so there’s no need to rush, but I already have my book. The perfect excuse not to spend excess time out here.

I haven’t seen any of the hellhounds this morning, but that’s not surprising. Hailey gave me a ride since Finn has been so in and out with basketball practices.

Still, why linger in the kingdom where his family’s name gives him power over everything and everyone? While I have nothing?

I can feel the curious stares of my peers the farther I go, but they don’t bother me. Riding solo after Hailey had to break off for some club meeting catastrophe. Something about a paper-mache explosion?

My chin arches higher. They can keep gaping. Why I’d been gone none of their business. The students here are like vultures to a corpse for gossip.

Thankfully, I’d only dipped out a little earlier before our fall break started, so I didn’t miss too much school. Managing to catch up on all my homework before classes started again.

I’d missed the holiday, still at Alma’s at that time but that doesn’t bother me. I’d grown used to being alone on them, so it wasn’t a big deal.

Hailey updated me on everything. Coming over that very first night I got back and spending the last few days of our vacation at the Caspers’.

It’s nice having her back. She’s someone I hadn’t realized I would miss so much. Not until I no longer had her over zested personality around anymore.

Who would have thought my refuge would be in a classroom where I hardly speak the language?

Another reason I headed straight here from the car—no boys with hair the color of night, cheekbones that could cut glass, and smiles so cruel it could make the dead wake—in this class.

Iceman is already fluent in French, so there’s no way he’d show for the additional credit. Safe from at least one hellhound. A different one, another story.

“Eli?”

The small points of dirty-blond hair unmoving as he lifts his head from his book. His hair has always been short, but he must have gotten it cut recently. Part of his scalp visible through the low strands.

“You’re not in this class?” I may have left, but I hadn’t been gone that long. Short enough to know he isn’t in Introduction to Spanish.

Leaning back, the sleeves of his shirt pull. The muscles visible, bulging even under his blazer. Flexing, he crosses them tightly over his chest. Smile coaxing, enjoying my confusion a little too much.

Suddenly though, I’m not sure if I’m more baffled about why he’s here or how I have never noticed he’s so ripped.

Probably because you only ever had eyes for one asshole, remember, dummy? My head screams.

Shaking it, I clear my thoughts. All of them, except the one that matters as of current.

“No, ho, ho,” I deride. Wagging a pointed finger back and forth when he widens his legs and plants his feet in that way where dudes get comfortable. “You are not staying here. Go back to your class. Your real class.”

“This is my real class,” he states simply.

My teeth grind. Him not budging or getting the hint.

I don’t want Eli here. I want peace.

The comfort that comes with not understanding what the teacher says for the next hour what I’ve been looking forward to. The concentration I need so that my mind doesn’t wander.

That’s what I want, a diversion.

Not… this.

“Look, I don’t know what scheme you concocted with them, but I need you gone.”

More people are stumbling into the room. He doesn’t attempt to move from his desk, and it skyrockets my anxiety. Eli can’t stay here.

“This is my class. Go find your own,” I spew out, trying to keep my voice down. Not wanting to alert the others around.

According to Hailey, I’m the hot topic of this school right now. Whether it be the breakup, my disappearing, or the other millions of lies she’s heard. I cared as much as I volunteered to stop listening halfway through.

Ergo, I don’t need another. My list already plenty high on these junkies disguised as socialites’ radar. A tantrum in the middle of the classroom does not need to be added.

Not on my first day back.

Class is about to start, almost all the seats taken, and I debate if I’m suddenly above begging. My nerves are through the roof. Or el tejado, in Spanish.

See, I need this. Same as Eli needs to vamos.

“Stop being childish, Eli.” This is getting ridiculous. “People are starting to stare.”

He leans in, lowering his voice enough that I have to do the same to hear. “Probably because you haven’t taken your seat yet and the teacher’s ready to start class.” His grin is slow, baiting.

My ass knocks into the seat in front of his in the next second. A low growl rips out as I face forward. Cheeks overly warm.

We make it about halfway through the class before I feel his closeness behind me. The hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention at his knuckles digging into my back. An aftereffect of the strong grip he has on the back of my seat.

“You need to calm down, people are getting more curious.”

My jaw grates. Uncaring anymore.

So, leave. I want to say but chew on the inside of my cheek instead.

“You know we’re only doing this because we care, right?”

Giving me the space I desperately need. Craved, almost. That is what would show they care. Not smothering my request.

“What about what I want?” I spit out in a hushed whisper. Eyes still focused forward.

The warmth of his breath fans the ends of my hair. Hitting me in the face as he opens his mouth. I swat them away at the same time his jaw snaps closed. The teacher interrupting my question with one of his own.

Smoothly, he leans back into his seat instead. No longer overcrowding my own as he answers in perfect Spanish.

That one small thing. The fluency with which he speaks spiking my blood pressure from boiling to overflowing.

Further proving the point that he is only here to keep an eye on me. Not because he needs the lesson.

I slouch lower in my chair. You can’t get a hellhound without expecting a little hellfire. That morsel of knowledge the one thing keeping me from snapping at Finn in my next class.

Before the break I didn’t have a single class with any of them, now I have the pair on rotation.

By the time the last class of the day rolls around, I don’t even bother looking to see which one it is anymore. Wordlessly sinking into the front row.

That singular point being where I fuck up.

I thought I had been smart in choosing this spot. Like so many times before, I’d been wrong. Stupidly giving Iceman more range to sink his intense gaze from the very back of the room.

Finn and Eli had only been the warm-ups. I had no idea he’d be in this one. Them I could handle. This one, not so much.

This is the closest I’d been to him in weeks and although I refuse to look back, I can’t deny it. The familiar magnetic electricity that sizzles around us jolts straight to my chest.

It’s as numbing as it is energizing.

I feel so charged that by the time the bell rings, I’ve hatched a new plan. Dodging everyone as I charge from the room.

It probably looks like I’m trying to leave as fast as I can, but really, I need to track down Hailey. First, find her. Then Hardin.

No one wants to respect my wishes and play by my rules, so I’ll make my own.

Eleven

Rory

“WHERE ARE WE OFF to?”

I nearly jump out of my skin and topple down the stairs at Finn’s voice behind me. The ironclad grip I now have on the banister saving my life.

“You’re paying for my heart transplant,” I snarl.

It’s three in the morning. Finn shouldn’t be up for at least another two hours and that’s only because he needs to for weight training. Otherwise, he’d be sleeping in until school.

I’ve been tossing and turning most of the night and thought a run might clear my head. Nerves, I guess.

I hadn’t expected company.

“Why are you up so early?” I whisper-shout. “Go back to bed.”

“I will if you will.”

“I will when I get back.” I want to go for a run.

“Well, then so will I,” he suggests. Bouncing on the balls of his feet.

I am so not in the mood for this right now. It’s too early.

“Finn, you aren’t coming with me.” Raising my voice since he’s already at the bottom of the foyer.

Letting out a heavy sigh, he drops his hold from the wall where he’d been swinging his leg back and forth. Stretching out his muscles like he believes he’s coming with me.

Running is my thing. Not our thing.

I try again, unwavering. “Why don’t you go back to bed, and I’ll wake you when I get back?”

He thinks about this for about point two seconds before giving me a “nah.” Bringing his knee up and squeezing it to his chest, before switching and doing the other.

“What if I brought you up breakfast afterwards?”

I really want this time alone. Running is the only time I ever feel like I can breathe as backwards as that sounds.

This time he does openly ignore me, rocking back and forth on the heels of his feet and then shaking out his legs.

My nose scrunches in displeasure.

Before I know what’s happening, I’m down the stairs and right in his face. Why does he have to be so irritating?

“Finn, I mean it. It’s bad enough I’m being babysat at school. Let me have this one thing. Don’t take this from me too.”

A strangled cough comes from him then. I can see the fight on his face. A troubled pinch to his brow has me thinking I’ve finally gotten to him until his mouth twists roguishly. “How about we make a deal?”

I force myself to stay neutral even though, on the inside, I want to shoot him the middle finger and just take off. That’s no longer an option since he’s seemed to strategically block the door with his oversized frame. Guarding it like it’s his one life’s mission.

“I will allow you this one thing but,”—there is always a but—“in return, you have to come to my practices every day after school.”

My mouth gapes. Is he joking?

“What if I have plans?”

“Unless they involve Hailey, cancel them,” he deadpans.

My eyes flare. “Two practices a week.”

“Four.”

He is relentless.

“One.” A frosty layer cooling over my scoff.

“Three. Final offer.”

There is something so messed up about all this. No, that’s just Finn, or maybe it’s me for even humoring the stupidity of all this.

He’s making it seem like I don’t have my own free will.

We’re arguing about this, but not he or any of the other hellhounds know what I did the other day at Hardin. Wait until they figure out that little tidbit.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Finn asks when my grin turns saccharine.

I jut out my jaw. “Two.”

His face is already morphed into suspicion as his inhale turns choppy. Eyebrows pinned together in concentration as his thumb starts to stroke his chin. Debating.

“Only if it’s contingent.” Finally deciding.

“On?”

He’s acting like this is an actual transaction and we’re doing business instead of arguing my free will.

“If we have a home game, you have to be there.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Then I guess you get a new running buddy.”

I press the tip of my tongue to the swell of my mouth. “Where did you learn to negotiate?”

“You don’t grow up with a dad like ours and not learn a thing or two,” he fires back, not missing a beat.

I stare him down, long and hard, hoping he’ll break, but he never does. Finn as serious about this as I am about running alone. The certainty he holds in this one look shoots straight through me.

I angle a skeptical brow. “And if I agree, you’ll let me start and finish on my own? No sneaking up on me halfway through or trailing me without my knowledge?”

I can’t believe I’m actually considering this. That’s how desperate I am right now.

Finn’s head snaps back at the same time his hand splays out over his heart. Having the straight-up audacity to look offended.

“I’m a gentleman, lil sis. I always let the lady finish.” He winks and I shudder. Disgusting.

He extends his hand. “We have a deal?”

Unease pricks at my neck, telling me I’m going to regret this but do it anyway. Yanking at his arm and shaking it.

“It’s a deal,” I agree.

The satisfied, jolted reaction I expect next never comes. A heaviness sets over his lids instead.

“Great, I’m going back to bed,” he notes through a yawn, climbing back upstairs.

My charged frown disguises the flutter of something that isn’t irritation in my gut. Waiting until he’s fully disappeared down the hall before I head out.

That perturbed feeling never leaves the entire run. Deducing that in Finn’s archaic, deluded mind, he’s worried I can leave again.

Which is why I do one of two things. One, I stick to the grounds. Two, I flick him across the nose. Waking him to let him know I’m back an hour later.

The sleepy lopsided grin he gives me is fast replaced with him threatening to buy a truckload of glitter and sprinkle it all over my room. Daring me to defy him and see what happens if I ever wake him up before his alarm again.

That being all the answer I need. My gut had been right.

…Still.

Yelping, I charge out of the room after he sits up. Throwing a pillow at my retreating form after I thump him again, only this time with more force for threatening me.

It only serves him right.

Twelve

Cole

WHY IS IT THAT the ones we always want the most are the hardest to get their attention? Right, because I fucked up.

If I thought she despised me before, imagine that but on steroids. Now she has legit reasons to want to cut off my balls and feed them to the wolves.

I mean, I loved my little swimmers as much as the next guy but at this point, I’d be willing to drop one if it meant a little eye contact.

That’s how desperate she’s making me feel. She has me considering catastrophic nuclear disfigurement.

Rory has always been an expert at knowing how to push my buttons. Turns out pretending I don’t exist is the most painful of them all. At least if she yelled, I’d know she felt something for me. Anger better than no emotion at all.

My patience, unlike my ego, is dwindling.

The most time I’d been around her for more than a single class period’s worth of time is practice. I’m not sure how Finn managed to convince her, but she’s been here every day for the last part of the week.

He and Eli are still talking to me pretty minimally, but I hardly notice. She’s here and that’s where my focus has stayed.

I can see more than the back of her head. At least she’s facing my way, unlike in class. Glancing up only occasionally from her homework in the stands. Eyes everywhere but on me.

By Friday I’ve officially lost it. I’ve already been more moody than usual because, you know, life. Then my father decides to call me out of nowhere. Demanding rather than ask that I start putting more effort in at Hardin.

I asked if he’s dying. He didn’t find it funny; I wasn’t kidding.

So, by the time my feet hit the court, I’ve been drawing up fouls left and right—not that Rory notices. Her tactic weighing a little extra on my conscience as it cracks.

Nope, never mind, that cracking sound is literal.

Not my bones. Some kid named Seth. All practice he’s been trying to out ball me. He’s kept up well but all it took is one cough—the smallest of noise—and I’m searching her out.

That fraction of a second of hesitation is all it took. Seth stealing the ball right out from under me. Coach Boone’s whistle already ringing around the gym as I pump my arms down the court.

His high-pitched disapproval unnecessary. I know what I did wrong.

Seth must have practiced up this summer because the kid’s gotten a lot better since last year. Not as good as one of the hellhounds because he still overcorrected. Catching up to him easily when his foot hooks left when it should have gone right.

Stealing the ball back, intentional. His elbow meeting the bridge of my nose as his feet leave the ground, unintentional.

At least for his sake, it better be.

The good, is I blocked the shot. The bad, is the large crimson drops painting the floor with the blood from my nose. The worse news, Rory hasn’t noticed any of it.

I search her out again. Wiping the excess with the back of my hand before I’m left disappointed, yet again.

Sure, I wasn’t expecting her to come charging down from her seat, but you’d think the excess noise would have at least stirred her attention.

Nope, she’s more focused on her discussion with Hailey.

Pinching the bridge of my nose with my fingers, I can almost laugh. My pride a fragment of what it used to be if I’m hoping for even a glance.

Usually, I can’t get people to leave me alone fast enough. Now all I want is awareness from the one person who refuses to give it to me.

The crouching of Coach below has me looking back down at my feet. Turns out while I’ve been focused on my own denial Seth has been lying on the ground. Arm clutched to his chest.

The on-staff medic is called over and we find out after practice that our top shooting guard is going to be out for six weeks, minimum.

So, on top of everything else, now I have an entire team worth of people mad at me too.

Fuck my life. Seriously.

My carefully managed core is collapsing and there’s nothing I can do to fix it. The kingdom is crumbling, and I’m being smothered under the weight.

I give Princess the weekend hoping she’ll come to her senses, but shocker, she never does.

It’s as clear as if she wore a bright, flashing sign on her forehead that I’m on her DNR list.

Do not resuscitate. He’s dead to me.

Too bad for her if she thinks this is over, then she doesn’t know me as well as I thought.

You know, it should be alarming how quickly her face morphs from nail-biting anxiousness to annoyance. Doubtful Princess has ever been called into this room. She’s too good.

She may be irritated but I think she looks adorable. Her little nose pinches while those pearly grays loathe me with everything she is. I could sigh, just like old times.

“What am I doing here?”

My lip curves. Notice how she doesn’t ask why the principal isn’t here when she’s been dismissed from class? Rory—although too late—is smart enough to deduce she was lied to, to get her in here with me.

Maybe she does know me after all. The thought not unnerving. This exactly like something I’d do. Also reserving and paying off the principal with enough money to cover their lunch at the nicest restaurant in town for lunch helps too.

I take my time answering. Kicking my feet off the desk, only when I’m ready as I lean forward. “We need to talk.”

We’re on my time now.

I’ll never let her know it, but I’m glad when she doesn’t automatically sprint back out the door. A cliché Rory move. Avoid the problem rather than face it head-on.

At least that’s how it is if it’s her own. If it’s for someone else, it’s never the same issue. She’ll stand up for them until her heart gives out.

That, unfortunately, the one way in which we differed. Conflict my middle name.

“Don’t you think you’ve already done enough?”

I cock my head, her answering her own question before I can ask.

“Don’t have enough enemies, so you start going after teammates now.” Sarcasm drips from her every word.

My eyes shine. So, she had been watching.

Rory’s mood sours further at my amusement. Catching herself in her own error.

Those perfect lips of hers smashing together, all pouty-like. I know she’s angry, but all it does is make my dick stir. Beautiful, same as always, but especially like this.

After that, she doesn’t try to talk, waiting on me to explain. She’s always been a curious thing, so I use that to my advantage to drag this out.

I know she’s uncomfortable because she keeps shifting her feet every few seconds as she tries not to look unaffected. But I’m content with the fact that she hasn’t run yet.

It gives me a sliver of hope that under that hardened exterior, the one she shows the world. The one that gave no fucks, possibly gave one fuck about me.

The air grows more suffocating. Negativity the only thing in the room other than ourselves.

“Why am I here?” she asks. Patience dwindling.

I bite my tongue, hating how exhausted she sounds.

Spanning my arms out wide. Lengthening them to shoulder height. “You know, I only know how to do things grand, so here you go.”

Rory eyes the room, unamused or unimpressed. Both, I decide.

“You think I want this?” She jabs, sounding offended.

I jolt from my seat. She isn’t talking about the room.

“Seems to me you like the chase since that’s all I’ve been doing for a while, and you haven’t left yet.” This firework is about to meet their match.

Her mouth lifts into a sneer. “So many people worship you. Bow down to your feet like a king and yet I know the truth.” Her eyes darken to the color of ash. “You’re such a joke.”

I know I’m gawking, but I can’t help it. After everything we’ve been through, I can’t believe she thinks so little of me.

“Oh yeah, and what does that make you then, Princess?” I accuse. Unbelieving my ears.

Strongly, she holds my gaze. Holding out for a long moment as her lips pull to one side. The disdain coating her voice makes my heart sink.

“The fool.”

Then in true Rory fashion, when things get too personal, she seeks refuge. The sound of wood smacks the wall, echoing as it bounces off her exit.

I let her leave once and she disappeared. So, she’s delusional if she thinks I’m about to let it happen again.

I take off after her. We are the furthest thing from done.

Thirteen

Cole

RORY DOES THIS. RUNNING a familiar tactic. It’s the only way she knows how to protect herself. What she doesn’t realize is that she’s hurting me more than herself in the process.

“Would you slow down?” I bark.

She picks up her speed.

I go to reach for her, but she whips around before I get the chance. Cutting herself off from heading into the bathroom. Chest rising and falling in soft little pants, standing in my shadow.

“Go back to class, Kellet,” she murmurs quietly. Voice so different from the girl minutes ago. I can’t stomach that defeat in her tone.

Her jaw is tight, but her focus is on my chest. Rory doesn’t do anything other than concentrate on where my tie hangs. Why won’t she look up at me?

I debate reaching for her chin but decide against it. I hate that I can no longer touch her whenever I want. That I have to think about it instead of being given the privilege.

We may not be touching, but this is the closest she’s allowed me to come since being back. Less than a foot apart, even though, in reality, it feels like miles.

Her breathing shallows but that pulse point on her neck throbs. All I can think to do is stand here like an idiot.

I clench my teeth in a deep breath, but it does nothing because now I recognize the signs. I should have noticed that subtle bit of hoarseness clinging to her voice earlier, but in my reprieve, I hadn’t.

Remorse washes over me.

She’s breaking down right in front of me and there’s nothing I can do because I caused it. I can see the torment that burns underneath those thick lashes, and it kills me.

I wish I could take it all back.

“Tell me what I need to do,” I croak. Desperate to fix this. Fix us.

She stays statuesque. Studiously avoiding my gaze.

My girl has trust issues. Ones from the past and the new, recent ones I’ve added to the list. Rory doesn’t let people in, but I’d been one of the rare few. Not so much anymore.

“Princess…”

A broken sound pushes past her lips and something inside me dies when she finally lifts her head. I feel as big of a bastard as the one who’d raised me.

Her cheeks as blotchy as her eyes. Fat tears stuck in the corners that she refuses to let fall. Exposing every cut, every wound. No longer holding back, letting me see it all.

Every raw piece of vulnerability.

It knocks me with the force of a typhoon.

“I’ll fix this,” I promise.

Her eyelids smash together. Head shaking side to side as she hugs herself. The dam of tears she has inside threatening to break free.

My heart thunders at an unhealthy level.

I move without thinking. Scooping her up into my arms and shoving us both through the swinging door of the girls’ restroom. Gender be damn. She deserves better than publicly breaking down in the hallway.

The world may see us differently than who we are, but that doesn’t change who she is to me.

I set her down on the counter. My sole focus back on her as soon as I check the other stalls and lock the door.

“I think,” she hiccups. “I think you should go.”

“Please…” I beg. Plead with her to tell me how I can make this right. I would do anything. Anything if it means getting us back to how we were before all of this.

Can’t she see that? How can’t she know that my heart will literally bleed for hers if it means she’ll be okay?

A loaded breath, deep and intimidating, pulls from my teeth. My back arches as my hands slam down on either side of her. More out of anger with myself than anything.

She jerks at the sound, and I step back, exhaling through my nose. She shouldn’t be scared of me. I don’t want that from her, I did in the beginning, but not anymore.

My hands find the back of my head as I look up to the ceiling. Looking for an answer that never comes.

“You know, baby, this thing between you and me…” My tongue clicks staring at the wall catty-corner from the sinks. “We aren’t like everyone else. We don’t have an expiration date.”

I can hear the moment—no, the second—her breath hitches, shifting. But I don’t acknowledge it. She probably doesn’t even realize she’s done it but that’s what she isn’t getting. I notice everything—any imperfection, every flaw, each morsel—I see it all.

She thinks that by lowering her face or closing her eyes she can hide from me but it’s only an illusion. A disguise only she can believe.

“I’m gonna give you some time. Let us simmer a bit, but know I’m not done trying.” Boldly declaring the honest to God truth.

Something catches there in my neck when our gazes lock, holding. She’s listening, more than just surface level so I push deeper. I might not get another chance if I don’t.

“I know you’re hurting right now, baby, I know,” I acknowledge. “But I will make up for this and I will get you back.”

She doesn’t answer right away. “What if that’s not what I want?”

Her words as quiet as they are gutting.

There’s a sound at the door but neither of us acknowledges it. I refuse to break the intensity of our hold. Not after I only got it back.

The longer I fixate, the clearer it all becomes.

Her eyes pulse but there’s also a stillness there. I don’t believe her, and honestly, I don’t know if she believes herself anymore.

The room is coated in our tightened tension. My heartbeat an unsteady melody matching the banging at the door. It’s more promising than the carefulness she’s using to try and hold herself together.

Trying to make me think she’s telling the truth. That she no longer wants me.

Her gaze flicks beside us after it finally becomes too much, and I’m left disappointed by her decision.

The energy fractured as her eyes settle back on me. Fizzing but not going out completely. Much like the truth, it gives me hope.

Rory’s lying, but it’s only to herself.

I swallow, but it’s scratchy.

“Go unlock the door, Kellet, someone needs inside,” she whispers with a strangled sound.

My tongue flicks at my teeth inside my mouth, but I do as she asks.

Rory’s posture turns jaded as soon as she spots who walks through the door.

“What are you doing, Madison?” Doesn’t she have freshmen to harass?

If she’s surprised to see me in the girls’ restroom, she doesn’t acknowledge it. Passing me as she reaches for a handful of paper towels instead.

“Some idiot touched my bag with their greasy fingers,” she explains. Dabbing at the barely their smudge. “This is high-quality leather, not something from a yard sale.”

After she’s done with that, she moves on to washing her hands. Madison’s attention zeroes back in on me through the reflection in the mirror.

“The question is, what are you doing here, Cole? I don’t remember ever seeing a vagina any of the many times we’ve fucked.” Her smile is as knowing as it is bitchy.

Rory’s lip twitches, not enough that Madison would notice, but I do.

I scrub a hand down my face. This chick needs a muzzle.

“Are you done?”

“I dunno. Should we be?” Her tone mocking, but I hear the hint of curiosity there too. Bravely shooting her desperate shot.

“Get out!”

“Fine,” she says, tossing the paper she’s dried her hands with. Amused as she is unaffected. “Not like I won’t see your bestie and Rory later anyway.”

“What are you talking about?” Rory asks, beating me to the question. Joining the world again.

“See you later tonight.” Madison’s voice a breathless cackle as she walks past.

I stare at the swinging of the door as an empty pit of nothing settles in my stomach.

This can’t be good.

Fourteen

Rory

“TOLD YOU I’D SEE you later,” Madison says, following behind her parents into the dining room.

The secret smirk she shoots me while taking her seat not any more attractive than when she’d arrived.

Everyone is here except for Lorna, which hasn’t been unusual since I’ve been back. I have no idea if that’s Abram’s doing, but she’s hardly been around.

The devil may care what she’s up to, but I don’t.

Our little spat over my book in the conservatory may be minor compared to everything else since, but I haven’t forgotten.

In the few times we have been around each other, it’s never been alone or for more than a few minutes. She’d been as cold as usual. She’s either a stupendous actress, or the alcohol mixed with a fractured nose deluded her memory.

Besides, Alma told me herself that a customer had left it behind. No way it’s the same one. It’s too much of a coincidence.

Lorna shows up fifteen minutes late. Looking at her now, you’d never know she’s still in recovery. The gauze she’s been wearing every day since her nose job was nowhere in sight.

I have no idea if she’s allowed to take it off or not. The ugly that is her face between the doctor and her.

The time though, is unusual. Usually, she’s the perfect host when we have dinners with colleagues of Abram’s. Bossing the staff around like the domesticated little housewife she is.

Guess the thick coats of makeup used to conceal the dark bruises under her eyes took longer than expected to cover.

She takes her seat, apologizing. “Sorry, everyone, wardrobe mishap.”

I snort into my glass. More like face mishap.

Lorna shoots me a look, fingers stalling mid-fold of the napkin in her lap. I pretend not to notice.

The woman sitting beside Madison voices her input. It has to be her mother because no other human would be burdened with having that matching copper color of hair and vile conceited personality.

She gives her agreement, mentioning something about how hard it is to find a good stylist and I zone out.

I may not be partaking in the conversation, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know what’s going on around me.

Abram and Madison’s father have been chatting most of the dinner, the same as the women.

The entire thing has been a bore. In the few times I attended them in the past, they’d been the same, but at least during those, I had Finn to keep me entertained.

He managed to get out of it for a basketball reason. Lucky ass.

I slump back in my seat, downing the last part of my drink to conceal my smirk. Soon he won’t be the only one with an excuse to not show up to these.

I’m not the only one who hasn’t been enjoying myself.

Madison’s mother had said something to her. Plastering on the same polite smile she does every time she answers. The look pulls from her face as soon as her mother turns back.

The grin as fake as the enjoyment of the room. Everyone here is a liar.

Lorna and Abram haven’t spoken a word directly to each other the entire evening. The cracks in their marriage forming into a canyon so wide you’d have to be blind to overlook it.

It’s in the subtle ways they shift away from the other. Not something you’d notice if you aren’t looking. Their bodies angled. Appearing like they’re more interested in the conversation than they actually are. And they might be, but I don’t buy it.

Most nights, Lorna doesn’t come down from her room for dinner. Tonight a rare occasion because of our guests. I still have no idea why they’re here.

Usually, these are held on Abram’s account for work, but tonight it’s different. It’s almost like he’d been as surprised by our guests as I’d been.

He’s polite, of course, but I can’t put my finger on it, something seems off. More than the usual fuckery that is my life, at least.

I can tell Madison’s father is a proud man. Not that his wife or daughter isn’t, but his ego is different, more prideful.

I’ve learned that Madison’s family had made their fortune in banking. Her father the head of one of the largest branches in the country. Old money is the term he liked to use most often.

For the last thirty minutes, Abram has been trying to change the subject, but the man seems oblivious.

“Abram, did I hear you and Silas are looking to invest more overseas? I assume I should draw up an account.”

“We have been, yes,” Abram agrees, not giving him a straight answer.

“I can have the accounts pulled by Monday.”

“Silas and I are still in discussion on our plans moving forward.”

Basically, Abram is putting it out there that the Montgomerys aren’t their only option.

“Yes, we are all very fortunate, are we not?” Mr. Montgomery answers, clearing his throat. Shooting him a fake grin anyway, even though he’s clearly not happy with the uncertainty.

I cross my eyes, delirious. That’s the second most used term out of his mouth after old money.

Abram doesn’t elaborate further, instead passively sipping at his wine. Nothing more than necessary. A true businessman, never oversharing.

The lack of clarity wiped away from Mr. Montgomery with the chew of his steak.

“Speaking of, did I hear Silas’s son will be shadowing him at Hardin?” Asking between another mouthful of bloodied rareness.

Now I’m the one who’s trying to hold back my surprise. My skin pales at the same time my hands start to clam up.

I’m glad I don’t have a drink in my hand, or the rareness of meat wouldn’t be the only thing that looked like a crime.

“Will your son be doing the same?”

“For now, I’m letting Finn focus on the basketball season with his friends. But in the future, I would like that, yes.”

Mr. Montgomery scoffs. “Sports. The only thing those are good for is betting. A hobby. At their age, I was already a regular within the company. Money doesn’t make itself.”

“When the time is right, he will be mentored by me personally.” Abram’s eyes flick over at him, hawklike.

“Still, I would agree that starting sooner is better than later. Success isn’t for the lazy,” he notes while stabbing his fork at Abram.

If Abram’s unsettled by his remarks, he doesn’t show it. Collected as ever, even in the brief silence that hangs in the room. That’s the part that worries me. I can’t read him.

Madison’s father, in his egotism, doesn’t seem to realize he’s overstepped. Everyone else has. Even Lorna’s stalled her conversation. Waiting to hear Abram’s reaction.

The drumming of his fingers along the edge the only way I know he’s heard him. Waiting with guarded anticipation.

Then the movements stop, and Abram’s lip turns up, carnal.

“Need I remind you, the Caspers did not become one of the most influential families by sitting around.” Voice as ruthless as it is guttural. “I do not need you to try and sell me on a problem that does not exist. This is my family. You act as if your opinion is a product. I assure you; I know what I’m doing.”

“We do not undervalue the Caspers,” Mrs. Montgomery notes, stepping in. Tone a little nervous now. “My husband is simply suggesting it might be better to include Finn, same as Silas is doing with Cole.”

“And I will when I think he’s ready,” Abram defends, not missing a heartbeat.

“But Silas—”

“What he does with his child is his concern.” Grit lingers in Abram’s tone. His stare holds even me hostage. “Understood?”

Mrs. Montgomery is quiet for a moment before her mouth draws in and her chin jerks.

“Perfectly.”

It isn’t long after that Abram dismisses dessert. Heading to his private office in search of something stronger than a blackberry tart.

Lorna invites everyone else to the sitting room to enjoy and they agree. Following her only out of formality. Everyone else knowing the meal was over after Madison’s father opened his mouth.

The sad thing is, I could tell he honestly thought he was being helpful. Pride and egotism go hand in hand.

Still, If I were Madison’s dad, I wouldn’t hold my breath for that account.

The invite to join them had not only not been extended to me, but I’m grateful for the reason to ditch early.

“Blue or purple?”

Two sets of brightly colored party streamers are shoved in my face right after I hear the question.

I swat Finn’s hands away. “What are you doing here? I didn’t know you were back.”

His lips turn up, grin evasive before shoving the items right back in front of me. “Pick one.”

“Why?”

“Why else do you think?” He clicks his tongue, disregarding me. More persistent in choosing a color. “Look, just pick a color, okay?”

“Are you throwing me a party? A birthday party?” I ask skeptically. My nerves jump from under my skin at the thought.

His wrist snaps, fidgeting. His persistence inflating.

“Finn, I—” Paper streamers dance between us. “Fine, purple,” I groan, giving in.

My brother is relentless.

“I-I like blue too,” I backtrack when his face falls. “I like them both. Both are good choices,” I defend, unsure why I care so much when if you’d asked me back at Alma’s, I would have told you I wasn’t staying.

Eighteen is supposed to be my year of freedom. Something earned after all my struggle.

Now that I’ve been back at the Caspers’ for a bit, I’m starting to wonder what that freedom means. When I ran away, I had nothing. A backpack and some anger. Here I at least have a proper bed, food, a few friends, and the potential for a solid future.

What do I have if I leave? Myself.

Before all this, that’s all I thought I wanted, the solitude.

I’m not sure if that’s enough anymore. What if the freedom I thought I’d always wanted had really been disguised as security? I mean, I did just get a new—

“You’re a jerk!” I deride. Jerking at Finn’s shoulder playfully.

That sad little expression on his face moments earlier purely of manipulation. His smile serendipitous now.

“Geesh, you’re gullible.” He rubs at his arm. “Don’t worry, lil sis, I can use both. I just always pegged you as a blue type of girl. I mean, hello, you have the whole teenage moody angst thing down to a science.”

I jab at the other.

“Uh, ouch!” he mocks, rubbing at the opposite arm. “Learn to take a joke.”

“You’re the worst.”

“I’m not the one who purposefully buys jeans that look like they’d been run through a blender first.”

“They’re called holes, and you should try plugging the one below your nose sometimes.”

“Mmhmm, right,” he agrees. Snatching the dessert off my plate and slamming the door closed to his room before I could get it back.

“Finn!” I yell, banging my fist, already knowing it’s going to go unanswered.

On a sigh, I head back downstairs after I hear his music start, hoping I might find one leftover. If not, at least I can drop off the now empty plate.

“Stop being so naive, Madison. Grow up!”

My footsteps stall around the corner from the kitchen.

“I told you it won’t work,” Madison defends.

“Try harder. You’re a Montgomery. We don’t lose. We aren’t losers, are we?”

I scoot closer to the edge but backtrack, nearly jumping out of my skin at the backhandedness of Madison’s mother’s tone.

“Answer me,” she snarls. “I said…”

The sound of skin contacting skin fills the place of the rest of her sentence. The sharp blow of a slap rings in my ears, ricocheting off the walls.

My pulse thunders as I chance a peek around the corner. The bright redness of Madison’s cheek confirms my theory.

“No, Mother.”

“No, what?”

“No, Mother, we are not losers,” Madison murmurs with more confidence than I expect. Eyes wild but never relenting. Fearful but never cowering.

Her mother nods, pacified. “What are you going to do as soon as we leave?”

“I’ll text him,” she grits out, unblinking.

Madison’s rage may be quiet to her mother’s self-will, but I can feel her anger. It’s hushed but imminent. Years’ worth of rage built up, building still.

“You owe it to your father, this family. You know he—we—need this,” she tuts, straightening out the collar of Madison’s already perfect dress.

“I know, I know,” Madison interrupts like she’s heard this a thousand times. “The stocks Daddy’s invested in haven’t panned out like he thought they would.”

“Right, so keep pushing. He can’t stay caught up too much longer on Abram’s daughter. Sure, she has a nice face, but you can’t buy class. Now, stop slouching,” she adds. Pulling her shoulders back roughly before Madison can attempt to do it herself.

Madison’s face turns grim.

“We should be grateful Lorna invited us to dinner tonight.” Mrs. Montgomery’s voice was as sweet as before, like she hadn’t slapped her own daughter across the face.

“Careful mother,” Madison taunts. Eyes thoughtless as they glow. “Don’t you think we should get back soon? Don’t want to leave Daddy alone too long. Everyone knows how Lorna likes to—”

“—Enough.” Her mother’s tone is deadly and low as her eyes flare in warning.

I notice how Mrs. Montgomery’s fingers twitch like she has the urge to hit her daughter again after her comment.

Madison’s chest heaves, eyes flittering, deadlocked in her stare as if she’s waiting for it too.

The callousness that burns in her eyes shines evident and clear. Her revulsion toward her mother is undeniable as the welt on her cheek pulsates, but she doesn’t speak up again.

Mrs. Montgomery cranes her neck, impartial. Relenting as her hands drop back to her sides. “Now go cover that up before someone sees. Before you make an even bigger embarrassment of this family.”

Madison storms passed as my back plasters to the wall, but I don’t think she would have noticed had it not been. Hatred spews like flames from her eyes, screening her from everything else around.

It would seem we all have shame to hide.

Fifteen

Cole

I STORM INTO THE Casper mansion like I own the place. Taking the stairs two at a time, completely bypassing Finn’s door. Choosing the one on the left and making myself comfortable.

To say I’m wound tighter than a psycho in a straitjacket would be an understatement.

Patiently I stay waiting. Like the true predator I am.

When I hear the door rattle, the monster inside me purrs to life. Sinking my teeth into my kill as an innocent little Rory pops her head around the corner. Unassuming and unwavering.

“What are you doing here?”

“I’ve been asking myself that same question since I was born.” Answering her with an ounce of unradical honesty as I lean back with my elbows resting on the mattress. It’s plush, comfortable, and smells like her.

“Maybe your father should have learned how to pull out then,” she deadpans and I have to bite back my grin.

Rory’s feeling feisty today. Good. She isn’t the only one, because I’ve learned something. Something she did without telling anyone.

She did this to spite the hellhounds, I know her, and I know that’s why.

I start off easy. “You weren’t at practice today.”

“And?”

“And you weren’t at practice.”

“So?”

I track her movements. Seamlessly she moves through her room. Kicking off her shoes as she goes into her closet like she’s done a thousand times before.

My arm drops from where I’d been outlining the squares in her ceiling when she comes back out. The oversized T-shirt nothing new, although I prefer it more when she used to wear mine.

It’s when she lifts her arms. Running her fingers through her hair before pulling it into a high pony that concerns me.

Concern isn’t the right word, captures more accurate. More so than she already does by being just herself.

I arch an eyebrow, and she shrugs unbashfully, going to her dresser. The shirt riding dangerously high up her thigh as her arms stretch again.

“It’s not like you haven’t seen any of this before.”

She’s playing with me, toying, and it’s working. My blood curdles, draining past my ribs.

Rory says it like she’s uninterested, but I can see the way her chest flutters a little faster than before.

I continue to watch her with unhurried anticipation. She likes that I’m looking. Wants me to.

My already erect cock presses tighter into my zipper when her shirt lifts a centimeter higher. The shirt flattens to her smooth stomach but it’s what’s lower that has my focus now.

I swallow, running my tongue over my bottom lip.

“Weren’t you on your way out?” She peeks over her shoulder, and I stay unbashful, gawking at that perfect ass.

“Where did Hailey bring you after school?”

“Why do you care?”

“I didn’t say I cared.” I do. “I asked where you went.”

Her shoulder lifts. “Went and grabbed some food.”

My tongue rolls inside my mouth, never wavering from her little tease. I lift my chin. “Cute, Princess. Try again.”

She juts out her hip, and much to my disappointment, the material slides back down her thigh.

Deliberately, I raise my head slowly. Outlining her every curve with my gaze before settling with meeting her face again.

“Why did you go to Hardin?” I ask with a bit of challenge in my eye.

Her throat clogs as I study her like she’s prey. She’s not the only one that can be a tease.

I already know the answer, but I’m done playing games. She’d been sneaky in getting a job at Hardin without telling anyone, but I no longer care. Other, more pressing—larger issues—on my mind and in my pants.

Her lip curves up into a sultry smirk and I want to bite at it. Press down, just enough to make her whimper. Remind her who she belongs to.

“Keeping tabs on me, Kellet?”

Always, baby. Always.

“My view from here’s pretty nice.”

Pulling open the drawer, she yanks out a pair of shorts. Pushing in one leg and then the other.

My lip curves. “You think that’s going to keep me away?” Waving my hand dismissively. “A flimsy pair of shorts?”

“No…” she agrees on a pause. “But I’m hoping it’ll get you to leave sooner since you were never invited in to begin with.”

“I don’t need an invitation to come see what’s mine,” I snarl, offended.

Her chest inflates on a full inhale. “I’m not yours anymore, Kellet.”

My eyes crinkle. “Stop calling me that.”

“Stop calling you what? Your name?”

She did this the other day too. Using my last name like it’s a weapon.

“What would you prefer then, Kellet?” Now she’s just mocking me.

Iceman. I want to holler, but that’s what she wants. She wants me to overreact, so she has a more legitimate excuse to get rid of me. She wants a fight because she can’t control the war waging in her mind.

She’s attracted to me, but it goes both ways.

Rory’s heart doesn’t want me, but her body tells me something different. I can see it in the way she fights it, tightening at every inch. Same as mine does for hers.

“What about asshole? Dickhead?” Her voice antagonizing, patronizing.

My lungs expand, starved for more than her demoralizing mouth. Her flesh humming off more than hot energy right now.

“You think you can pop up whenever you feel like it because we have a history? That’s not okay. I’m over following along while you pull at the strings.”

I flick at my thumb, unimpressed.

“I’m done letting you and everyone else play puppet master with my life.” Spouting off one bit of truth in all this.

The muscles in my cheeks flare. “Is that why you got the job at Hardin?”

Her eyes widen before narrowing again, unknowing I knew.

“I asked you a question.” I lean into her, climbing off the bed. “Don’t get shy on me now, Princess. You weren’t earlier.” Tone as provoking as it is calculating.

If she wants to play with fire, we both know I’ll play right back.

“I don’t owe you an explanation,” she says, pulling away so I can see the aggravation lines on her face. “But you do owe me one?”

“One?”

“Why are you still here when I asked you to leave?”

Her pupils dilate as the air shifts. A shadow crosses over them as her chest starts to rise and fall in the same pattern as earlier. Only this time, they are more untamed.

“Do you want me to leave?” I ask softly. Voice huskier than before.

Her muscles twitch against me and I hear her throat hitch. I know she doesn’t, but I need to hear the words.

This decision completely on her, giving her control. Rory already knows what I want. She can feel it pressing into her belly button.

Our breaths coexist but I can feel her fight. A catastrophe of morals at play right now. She wants me but doesn’t. Hates me but can’t fully let go either.

We are equal parts mayhem and turmoil.

My abdomen clenches as I step back, even as everything in me fights against it. Making the decision for us after she hesitates too long. We need more time.

Rory isn’t ready and it revolts my stomach.

I fucked us up and I’ll be the one who continues to pay the penalties of my sins. She already has enough to deal with.

“How did you figure it out?” she asks only before I’m about to step out of her room like she’d asked. My hand stalls on the knob.

I smirk, not that she sees. I should have expected this. I can feel her overthinking from here. Her curiosity drives her eagerness.

“Next time pay attention to when you’re signing off on a package, mail girl. Packages sent to the top floor are given a receipt copy when delivered.”

I don’t have to turn around to know her face has fallen.

“Oh, and don’t worry about your name. I had it corrected back to Casper in the system. Should be updated before your next shift,” I finish, leaving without a backward glance.

If Rory thinks she can get a job and hide who she is without repercussions, she’s forgotten who she’s dealing with.

Nothing comes without consequence. I would know.

A cold glint settles in my eye as I shove my way through the only other door in the hall. Entering as uncaring as I had for the other.

I’d never done it before, so why start now? The Caspers’ is more of a real home to me than my actual one anyway.

“Put me in the next round,” I state rather than ask. Taking a seat beside Finn, who slowly pulls his headset from around his neck, gauging me.

It’s time I take back the reins.

“I get first pick,” I add, unyielding. Picking up the extra controller.

Several seconds draw out but I focus on the paused game on the screen instead. Unwilling to move.

He can gawk all he wants. I may have walked out on his sister, but I’m not about to do that twice in one day, so video games it is.

If I can’t have Rory back right now, then I want my friends. The hellhounds are going to be fine because I will make it that way.

Unlike her, they no longer get a say.

Sixteen

Rory

“WHAT DID YOU GET for number two?”

“Uhm, nine.” Reading off my answer to Hailey. “What about you?”

“Same.”

The end of the pencil I’d been nibbling on stalls on my lip. She said that a little too quickly and with a little too much conviction.

“You literally just wrote that down,” I accuse.

She shrugs, unbashful.

“What about the first one? What did you get for it?”

“I couldn’t figure that one out either,” she whines.

I sit back, blowing air, and Hailey takes the opportunity as a break. Slamming her book closed as she kicks out her feet.

The angled rows of bleachers give the perfect vantage point at the boys’ practice below.

Hailey has started joining me on the days I’m not at my new job. Sure, working in the mail room doesn’t sound the most exciting but I thought it would get me away from the hellhounds.

Before everything, I would have tried back at the diner Hailey and I frequented. But I decided against it once I thought about how often Finn likes to eat there too.

Hardin’s supposed to be my time away since it feels like I’m being shadowed all the time now. I figured if I got a job there, they’d feel secure in the location and leave me alone.

I’d been wrong, dead wrong. Out of pure coincidence, Silas, Cole’s father, also decided it’s a good time for his son to start apprenticing.

“You’re staring.”

“I am not.”

“You are,” I point out. Tapping Hailey’s nose with a chuckle.

“Well can you blame me?” she defends. “They’re all easy on the eyes and the only thing covering their pocket rockets are their shorts.”

“I’m not judging,” I affirm, ogling myself because she isn’t wrong. Well, almost everyone.

The latter is still out on the dark-haired one ruling the court.

“Six packs and sweaty,” Hailey sighs in appreciation. “How has more of this school’s female population not thought of this? I mean, it’s basically a free show five days of the week.”

I wince. I haven’t told her what happened—or almost happened—yesterday in my room with Iceman.

Not that she notices. Her eyes are glued to the court. Tracking one player more closely than the others.

Don’t think I haven’t observed Finn’s more frequent glances up in this direction on days she joins as well. My heart may be sick, but that doesn’t mean my eyes aren’t working.

I pull back out my textbook and hear Hailey’s groans of agony beside me even as she does the same. Break’s over.

We work in comfortable silence for a while after that. The sounds of squeaking shoes and high-pitched whistles are a lulling background noise as I concentrate.

It also helps that we sit farther up.

I prefer it, especially when Coach likes to go on one of his whistle-blaring rampages. I’m not sure how he hasn’t made blowing that thing without getting winded an Olympic sport, but here we are.

“Got any plans for the weekend,” Hailey questions, not lifting her head from her textbook.

I go still, catching the pause in her question. The delay is what worries me.

My nose wrinkles. “You reek of hidden motives. Spit out what I know you want to say,” I stress. Already knowing what she’s trying to get at. It’s the same thing that Finn badgered me about with the streamers.

It’s my birthday this weekend.

“Did Finn put you up to this?” I ask, shooting her an accusatory look.

Her cheeks hollow before turning a nice shade of pink and I have my answer. The dickhead.

I exhale, slamming my book closed. There isn’t a point in trying to work on my calculus anymore. “What’s he got planned?”

“What, I, no… he… it’s your birthday?” she splutters, chopping out something that is most definitely not a complete sentence.

The only thing worse than her acting is her ability to think I will fall for her trap.

I roll my eyes. They both need to work on being more subtle, or is it less? I clear my head. It doesn’t matter.

I scan her face, glowering. “Why did your voice get all high-pitched and squeaky?”

“It didn’t get high-pitched or squeaky.” She argues even as her voice continues to rise an octave after each syllable.

My shoulders slouch, hunching in on themselves when that dimple pops out. I know what usually follows shortly after.

Hailey tries her best to be evasive but the contained excitement bursts out like one of those toy snakes from a can.

Squealing, she pulls me into a hug. “Eighteen! I can’t believe my bestie’s going to be eighteen,” she sings.

“Nothing big,” I warn.

No point in objecting because it’s too late for that. Finn has something in the works.

“I mean it,” I stress when she pulls back.

Her face turns serious. Chin bobbing in understanding, but somehow a small smirk still manages to work its way out.

I’m glad she’s excited because that makes one of us.

Birthdays for me growing up have never been a big deal. In fact, the only one I can distinctively remember is my seventh birthday. It was the first and last time Lillian ever attempted to celebrate it.

Reality crashes down with the speed and weight of an anchor. The disaster of that event had been solid enough that it never again was followed by another.

I’m positive if my mother were still alive, she’d tell you my birthday is nothing more than a black hole. A pitiful reminder of my existence.

Hailey’s hand reaches for mine, pulling me from my thoughts. Grasping, she unhooks my fingers from the medallion on my wrist.

Huh. I hadn’t realized I’d been holding it.

“Finn, he…” She stalls as her inhale goes choppy. Now I’m really listening. “I think Finn’s scared. He thinks you’re going to leave again.”

She shifts, new worry lines forming above her brows.

“You aren’t, are you?” She shakes her head with a smile, but it’s nervous. “You know what, never mind. Don’t answer that.” Changing her decision.

The uncertainty she carries hits me like a smack to the face. She’s as worried as Finn, even if she doesn’t say it. She doesn’t need to; I can feel it.

They’re worried I’m going to leave again. This time if I do, I’ll be able to without a fight because I’ll be an adult.

“You know, you made it seem easy.” Hailey’s tone was sobering. “You packed up your stuff and left us all like it’s nothing. Like we are nothing.”

Her eyelashes saturate, regarding me with quiet curiosity, and my ribs fracture, splintering in half.

I had been so caught up in my own grief that I hadn’t thought of how my running away could affect others.

My throat clogs, and it’s a solid reminder that that’s not something I’ve ever had to worry about in the past. It has only ever been me…

For the first time in my life, I realize what it feels like to have people want you around. The sensation like seeing the sun after a rainy day. Blinding as it is warm.

I snort out a sound. “Since when have my brother and you gotten so close?” Needing the distraction or I’m going to burst.

The withering fragments that are my insides can’t take any more seriousness.

“Oh, we text here and there, but we’re just—”

Coach Boone’s whistle blasts in the air. “Casper, stop thinking with your other head and get back on the court,” he complains before blowing it again.

“—Friends,” Hailey says, finishing her thought from earlier.

Both of us now eyeing the girl Finn’s chatting up on the sidelines in the cheerleading uniform. Her pom-pom hits his chest as he smiles that megawatt, panty-dropping expression down at her.

My face contorts and Hailey’s shoulders noticeably sink.

“…Only friends.” Her voice far less enthusiastic than before.

“Poor thing must have gotten lost,” I ridicule, hoping to cheer her up.

It doesn’t work and neither will my hand if she doesn’t stop squeezing it so tight.

“Ouch!”

“Oh shit, sorry,” she apologizes as I shake out my wrist. Some feeling starting to slowly come back now that she isn’t death gripping it.

Coach blows his whistle again. Hailey’s face zeroing below.

Finn winks, finally getting the hint as he backpedals onto the polished floors. She goes her own way, adding a little extra sway to her hips.

I have the urge to stand up and yell, “Finally, you moron.” But I bite the inside of my cheek raw instead.

The dumbass could be a walking ad for syphilis.

“Are you okay?” I ask, looking back over at Hailey with concern.

“Yeah, fine.” Her words carry a bite.

I shake out my wrist again, trying to gain more feeling. Letting her be because we all know what that word really means. Hailey is definitely not fine.

The question is, is she the one who wants this friendship, or is he?

Seventeen

Rory

Then…

BIRTHDAYS DON’T EXIST WITHIN my household, so it’s strange to see Lillian act, yet alone, have so much energy.

Not only is she out of bed—that alone surprising in itself—but she also has a pep in her step. She seems refreshed, awake. The most alive I’ve seen her in years as she stands with her back to me cooking breakfast.

The clothes she has on look new. But that’s not saying a lot. Anything other than sweats is an upgrade. She’s also styled her hair or ran a brush through it so that it doesn’t look as knotty.

This shouldn’t put me on edge, but it does, because this isn’t normal. This isn’t our normal. She does remember what day it is, right?

“Happy seventh birthday, my darling daughter!” Lillian delights in a singsongy fashion as I take my seat.

The deep aroma of ground-up coffee beans combined with a cinnamon sweetness wafts past my nostrils. French toast?

Setting down a stack, she rests her hip on the counter, holding a cup between her hands.

“Is it good?” she asks eagerly, after I take a syrupy bite.

I swallow it down not because it isn’t good but because she’s too restless, antsy. Something about this isn’t right.

A six, basically seven-year-old shouldn’t have these thoughts running through their head. I, unfortunately, have never been raised like most.

Usually, I’m the one making her breakfast before I leave for school. She almost never eats it and I’d find it on her dresser the same as I left it. Tossing out the single piece of toast only to replace it with another the next morning.

This, her, a far cry from my normal.

I set down my fork. “It’s great. Thanks.” Forcing out a smile because she looks in desperate need of reassurance.

It does the trick, and she buys it. Tossing another piece of eggy, sugared bread into her pan for herself.

Is she humming?

“Know what I think?” she asks, taking a seat beside me after it’s done.

The rest of mine has sat untouched after that first bite. Her bizarre cheeriness unsettling my stomach.

Not that she notices. Taking a full bite that’s drowned in syrup as she moans her approval. Proud of herself.

“I think we should spend the day pampering ourselves,” she says, cutting into another bite. “I think we’ve earned it.”

The muscles in my cheeks strain. Who is this woman, and what has replaced her body with a functioning adult?

“Maybe go to a spa, get our nails done. Go shopping. Hair too, if we have time? You know, the works.” Listing off the items between bites.

I debate on running the back of my hand across her forehead but refrain. Peering out the window for the school bus that has yet to show.

“So, what do you think?” Lillian asks with more persistence. Her skin looks like it’s almost glowing and it’s disturbing.

Where was this the first seven years of my life?

I don’t answer her right away, spotting the bright-yellow vehicle below.

I have about a thirty-second gap to decide to run out and catch it or agree to spend the day with my mother.

Time passes too quickly and before I can make a decision, it’s made for me. The bus leaves too soon and I’m stranded.

I plaster on a smile, this one more genuine than the last. “Whelp, let’s do it.”

Lillian bites down, pulling the fork between her teeth, beaming.

I am so going to regret this.

If only I’d known ahead of time how right I was…

Eighteen

Rory

I DO NOTHING TO hide my displeasure as Eli and I pull up to the Casper mansion.

“What’s wrong, didn’t you have fun?” Eli asks as I lower myself farther down in his bucket seat.

I did have fun, which is why I’m more restless since we’re back. I know what’s coming, or at least an idea of suspicion.

Today was great. Eli showed up this morning, and I’d been a ball of nerves, even then expecting someone to jump out. The worrying fragments dissipated the deeper we went into the day.

Eli took me downtown and we explored a few bookstores before grabbing a late lunch. It was nice to spend some alone time with him. Joking and laughing because we never get the opportunity.

We should have sooner; we just never did.

He had been my first friend here as a kid, and after today I remembered why. Unlike the other hellhounds, Eli is thoughtful and considerate.

Where Finn is laid back, he is straightforward and while Cole is insensitive, he’s mindful. Eli can be combative but that’s only when provoked.

“You want to go inside or talk about it?” Eli grills, turning off his car.

He can tell something is up. I haven’t tried hard to hide it, not from him at least. It’s probably not hard to guess what it’s about, but I chicken out and go for the easier option anyway.

“It’s kind of stupid,” I admit because it is.

He shifts his weight, angling his back to the window. Not in a hurry to leave. “Try me.”

I look down at my hands, suddenly shy and I’m not sure why. Maybe it’s because this is Eli, and our connection has always felt more personal. Close. I can’t explain it, but I don’t want to look at him or… I don’t want him to see me.

Not like this, not vulnerable.

I decide to just spit it out, swallowing the nerves whole. “I wanted to text Hailey earlier at the coffee shop.”

His shoulders swell, taking up more real estate in the small space. His face morphs into a mix of confusion and something else I can’t decipher. Not hurt, but possibly discomfort?

“Did you not have fun with me?”

“No, no…” I rush out. Realizing too late how that sounds as I try and unjumble the mess of my thoughts. “It’s not you, I mean, it’s me,” I exhale on a frustrated sigh. “I don’t know.”

“Come on, finish your thought,” he says, nudging my shoulder with a small lift to the corner of his mouth.

I know that added boost on the last part is only for me. He’s still closed off, but it does help ease some of the tension, so I try again.

“What I mean is today is the first time I noticed. I wish I had my phone back.”

His brows cave. “I don’t understand. Where is it? Did you forget to bring it with you?”

…Not exactly.

I lick my lips, they’re as dry as the air I’m barely breathing.

“I haven’t exactly had one since before, well, you know.” I pause. “It’s upstairs somewhere, in a drawer.” Dead to the world, no doubt. “I haven’t wanted to look at it.”

I don’t know if I’m ready to.

He’s quiet for a moment and it drives my anxiety haywire. Why does this sound so immature out loud? Stupid really.

It also doesn’t help that his gaze hooks on mine. He’s watching me and the intensity of it swirls something low in my belly.

“Told you it would sound dumb,” I fill in on a nervous crack of a hiccup when he still hasn’t said anything.

“Why Hailey?” he asks after another few seconds of silence.

He’s trying to figure me out and I can’t decide if I want him to.

It’s stupid to do it, but I can’t help it as the words easily fall from my mouth. “I don’t know,” I lie.

The truth. I wanted to text Hailey because she’s seemed down in the dumps. I figured a beanie-wearing, mainstream reject, hipster kinda dude would be a perfect distraction.

Eli looks past my head and out the window. His jaw clicks, grating. I know he knows I’m not being honest, but he doesn’t push.

Why would he? He’s Eli, the unselfish one.

“We should go inside,” he says, already climbing out of the car after another beat of warped tension.

It’s moments like this where I question why my stupid fucked-up heart couldn’t have picked someone like Eli. Why did it have to pick the complication that is Iceman?

Everything I should want in a person Eli has.

Our friendship formed itself naturally over a common interest. He is stable to my erratic. A solid to my jagged. He’s never intentionally hurt me, which is why he hasn’t forced an answer.

My fractured soul lives and breathes for someone else and I hate that I’m ruined for someone who admitted that he’d break me.

I’m a fucking mess.

It isn’t until we’re back outside, only now in the backyard, that I realize I’ve been following him.

Unease pricks at my neck as soon as I see, wait—

“What’s going on?” I mutter, taking a cautious step closer.

All my friends are here but never in my wildest dreams would I have expected them to be dressed like this. Or the yard to look the way it does.

No blue or purple streamers in sight. Absolutely anything party themed or related invisible. Instead, it looks like a recycled prank on the mansion’s patio.

I want to ask if I showed up at the right address, but I know I did. It’s all so… so…

“Welcome to your anti-birthday!” Finn hollers, extending an arm out wide.

Confusion must mar my face because he opens his mouth to explain further.

“Without the megaphone, this time,” Cole deadpans.

Finn does as he asks but not before side-eyeing his disapproval. A smile right back in place before I can blink.

The enthusiasm is nice. The oversized green top hat and burnt-orange tailcoat are unneeded accessories.

“You said you didn’t want anything, so that’s what we’re doing. We’re having the opposite of a party. An anti-birthday.”

“Sooo, you’re boycotting my birthday?” I ask, clicking my tongue. Thinking I’m getting it.

“Exactly,” Hailey adds, stepping in. “No over-the-top celebration, no fancy decorations. A complete reverse to the stereotype.”

“Oh,” I breathe.

Underwhelmed but overwhelmed at the same time.

The theme, which is no theme at all, is exactly as they described. The yard makes absolutely no sense and I love it all.

Instead of balloons, they used kites. Piles of fruity cereal litter the tables instead of confetti. Toilet paper hangs, blowing from the trees like streamers. I find it both comical and endearing that Finn TP’d his own house.

Each of them adds its own flair to the rest. Hailey tied brightly colored mismatched socks around the base of her two braids. Eli put on a vest that looks like a pattern from a soft burrito shell.

Even Iceman joined in. Although he did seem the most uncomfortable. Flicking at his eyebrow as I try to swallow my laughter behind my hand.

I’m positive Hailey’s the one who forced him to put on the fanny pack. The strap loosely hanging over one shoulder. The bag rests right below the center of his pecs. The words “children’s souls” in a bright-red font on the front.

We did have cupcakes, but they were in the shape of squares and the icing was on the bottom. That’s the same way we ate them too.

It’d been messy, but we managed to do it through fits of laughter.

This is the first time since coming back that I felt almost like before. No extra tension, no nothing. Everyone enjoying themselves.

Even after we all somehow ended up in the pool fully clothed.

Cole’s arm snaking around my middle. Taking the incentive to decide the opposite of opening presents is a dive in the water. Logically.

We laughed and joked long past sundown, and for a single evening, everything was right in the world.

It, by far, was the best anti-birthday I’ve ever had.

Nineteen

Rory

A TENDER SMIRK PASSES my face the next morning as I look back down at all the useless things my friends have gotten me.

Every single one of them as pointless and worthless as the last.

If you were to ask Finn, he’d tell you that it’s part of the rules. Rules, something I didn’t know existed at an anti-birthday. But according to him, they do. I asked.

They include not being allowed to receive anything of useful value. If I did get something like that, it would defeat the purpose of what we’d not been celebrating.

Which is how I ended up with a used zero balance gift card from Hailey, an autographed self-portrait of Finn, and a paper bag filled with junk mail from Eli.

Coles took a little longer to open.

Open, not the right word, realize I’d been duped a better fit. Inside, nothing more than a dirt-packed mound of fresh earth.

The entirety of it all as fun as it’d been ridiculous.

I’m pouring myself a glass of juice when Finn walks into the kitchen.

“Morning, lil sis,” he says, reaching under my arm and stealing my drink as if it’s his own.

“Hey,” I grumble, ready to argue but decide it’s not worth it.

Shooting him a smug expression instead as I reach beside him. Finn forced to adjust where he’s made himself comfortable on the countertop. Opening the cabinet right next to his face.

He glowers, unamused, but there is something different about it. His face a little more drawn than it should be. Eyes too heavy.

An off-balance feeling settles in the room after I turn my back on him again. The air not as easy as it’d been seconds ago. A rigid weightiness hangs here now.

It has nothing to do with the stolen juice. I can sense that.

“You’re still here,” he notes at my back.

Agitation rolls off him. He sounds stunned, a slight hitch and crackle in his voice. I hate it.

The liquid I’m pouring spills over and I curse, finding a rag and wiping up the mess. Avoiding his pensive gaze the entire time. Finn doesn’t offer to help, and I don’t ask.

You’re still here.

My mouth pulls down. I am, aren’t I?

Fourteen days is what he’d told me he had to convince me to stay. In less than that, I’d convinced myself I didn’t want to be anywhere else.

I have friends, a life. Here. What do I have anywhere else?

The issues I’m dealing with, that’s all I’d have.

If I left, sure, they’d be easier to deal with, but that won’t mean they’ll get fixed. All running does is create an escape. What am I running from now?

Myself?

Not anymore.

“Did you expect me to not be?” I cringe, hating how my voice comes off defensive automatically.

“Well, honestly… yeah.”

My hands cramp before flattening out on the cool smoothness of the quartz counter.

The truth of his words hit me like a knife to my lungs. I should have expected it. Been grateful it’s to my front and not back, but it still hurts as it pierces the flesh.

Something sharp will do that to a softness.

“Finn, I—”

“—How’s the birthday girl doing this morning?” Abram’s lively tone whistles on his way in. Coming from nowhere.

I cough, shoving down my feelings as he passes, opting for coffee instead. Unaware of the strain as he eyes my abandoned gifts on the edge.

“It was an anti-birthday party thing,” I try and explain.

“An anti-birthday?” He muses, shuffling through the bag of junk mail. “But your birthday is today.”

“Exactly,” Finn clarifies. “We can’t celebrate on the birth day. Same for the gifts. We all got Rory the opposite of a gift. An anti-something.”

A chill shoots its way down my spine. He doesn’t say it, but I suddenly get the hidden meaning. Understand what these things are all about.

To anyone else, it sounds like he’s answering Abram, but to me, I can hear the hollowness of each new word. One breaking more than the last.

He doesn’t believe that I’ll stay.

They all got me something that’s easy to leave behind.

“Well, that sounds… interesting.” He looks over his shoulder. “Let me guess, this was your idea, son?”

Finn hops down with too much force. Thanks me for the juice before dumping the half-empty glass in the sink. That pain inside me cutting a little deeper on his exit.

“I think he just woke up on the wrong side of the bed,” I defend sheepishly.

Abram chortles his agreement, sipping on his coffee.

“You know I understood the idea behind all the other presents—the used gift card clever, by the way,” he jokes, taking a seat at the table. “But I don’t understand the box.”

“Oh, that one’s just a pile of dirt.”

“Are you sure?” he asks, raising his pinkie over another drink, clarifying. “Ah, never mind, probably me imagining things since I haven’t finished the first cup yet.”

His attention goes to his paper and mine goes to the box.

Yesterday I’d given up about halfway through. My fingernails were caked in brown soil by the time Cole attacked. Picking me up and throwing us both into the pool.

Finn cannonballing in right after. The others falling into a similar pattern. The box forgotten again until this morning.

Whoever brought it inside for me must have jostled the contents around because Abram is right. There is something inside. Something I hadn’t spotted before.

The metallic item barely pokes through. The shine from its reflection the giveaway as I yank it out.

Its egg-shaped container pops open easily, revealing what’s inside. My eyes widen before narrowing to slits.

“Un-freakin’-believable,” I stammer under my breath. I should have known better. How many times has Iceman told me he never does easy?

My insides drop. I’m such an idiot.

“What’s that?”

My head jerks up so fast I pinch a nerve, fisting the item. In my reprieve, I’d forgotten I’m not alone.

“You know, if you don’t have anything to do today, I thought it might be nice if you and I—”

“—Gotta go!”

Breezing out of the kitchen. With “the gift” shoved in my pocket, already halfway to his house. Cole Kellet is one crooked son of a bitch with a twisted sense of humor.

Twenty

Rory

“YOU GOT ME A car?”

My overcharged rage inviting myself in.

“You’ve got some nerve,” I erupt. Shoving a finger into Cole’s chest. He doesn’t budge a centimeter and it sets me off that much more.

By some miracle, the culprit of a witness was already in the hallway when I showed up.

“Good morning to you too,” he muses, as the one side of his mouth lifts in that sure way. He knows exactly why I’m here.

I ignore his pleasantries. They’re sarcastic anyway.

“I don’t want it,” I pant, ready to jab my finger at him again. He’s faster.

With more softness than I know he’s capable of, he grabs at my hand still lodged in the center of his chest. Extending his fingers, he pushes my lone one back down into a fist and holds it there. His hand over mine. Beating, right over his heart.

Something in my throat catches when our eyes connect and hold. Every new second that ticks by like another punch to my gut.

I somehow find the strength to put my focus elsewhere, those ocean eyes too intense. I regret where they go immediately.

His muscles flex, pecs solid. Same as I remember. Cole isn’t wearing a shirt and a light sheen of sweat glistens over his skin and collarbone. His flesh is still overly hot from the workout he must have just finished.

I’ve felt these before, tasted them even and I have the sudden urge to do it again right now. Feverish, why do I suddenly feel feverish?

Before I can help it, my tongue pokes out, wetting my lower lip. Eager to taste the saltiness of his skin. Lick and suck and bite at that vein that drums on his nape.

His heart rate picks up. I know because mine is doing the same.

I chance another glimpse, peeking up through my lashes only to realize his focus is on my mouth. Thick saliva builds in my mouth, but I swallow it down.

He exhales through his nostrils but it’s not out of anger at me coming over. It’s something else. His touch is hot, he’s burning me, but it’s not because of his physical heat from the workout.

Panic grips me, remembering, and before I know what I’m doing, I’m stepping out of his hold. I need the distance to think.

His jaw flexes, twitching in his disappointment, but he doesn’t fight me on it. Giving me what I want.

I pull the item out of my pocket before I lose all my nerve. “Is this another one of your jokes?” I ask in suffocating disbelief. “You think a car is an appropriate gift after what you did to the other?”

This is why I’d come here. Not for him to obliterate me from the inside out.

His frown deepens. “You don’t like it?”

I don’t have to see it to know I won’t. It’s a sick prank and I may have grown up in a circus, but I won’t be the clown.

I extend my hand, stubborn. “I don’t need it.”

“Don’t need it or don’t want to take it,” a low rumble escapes his chest. “There’s a difference, Princess.”

Both.

I snap my wrist in irritation. The key jingles, rattling in the stillness.

He hasn’t moved from his spot.

“Keep it,” he decides tightly.

“No.”

That vein in his collarbone thickens, pulsating as the muscles in his arms throb. Straining in his irritation at my defiance.

“Why do you have to make everything so goddamn difficult?” Iceman thunders. “It’s a gift. Keep it, don’t. Do whatever you want with it, but I’m not fucking taking it back.” His gaze strong as his temper ruptures. Patience dissipating with every new drawn-out exhale.

I raise my chin defiantly. “I won’t accept it.”

“Well, then donate it for all I care.”

“Fine.”

“Fine,” he grits. Iceman’s stubbornness not giving an inch.

Fear of what all this means hovers below the surface of my skin but not enough for me to express it to him.

Cole had been sneaky, and I know if Finn found out, he’d be pissed. He was supposed to give me something stupid and pointless, not a car!

It’s too much, and I’m not sure what it means, but it feels like something more and I’m not ready for that. I wish he’d pull his head out of his ass for once and take it back so I can forget about it and stop reading into what it means so much.

“God, you’re relentless,” I complain, shoving the key back into my pocket.

“And you don’t know how to just say thank you,” he fumes right back. A coldness settling in his glare that won’t melt.

There’s a faint sound of a voice off in the distance. It’s one I recognize but can’t put a finger on instantly. A rush of blood hits my ears, whooshing past at those familiar heel clicks.

“Mr. Kellet is taking a phone call but should be finished shortly.”

“Thank you.”

My eyes find Cole’s, despite not wanting to. “Is that—”

His hands find my back as he pushes us both to safety before I can finish. Away from the fast-advancing footsteps.

“Lorna,” he confirms once we’re inside the closet.

He cracks the door only a sliver. Enough for us to watch as she makes her way over to the entry side table. The very same one we’d been arguing in front of seconds ago. Lorna is oblivious to our presence as she reapplies her lipstick in the mirror.

“What’s she doing here?” I whisper. Watching as she dabs at her mouth and tucks it back into her bag.

It’s almost fascinating, watching someone so crazed do something so mundane. A minimal task.

“You think if I knew, I’d be hiding in a closet,” he screeches, and I instantly want to deck him.

Lorna doesn’t wait long, Silas greeting her himself once he’s done. They hug and it isn’t long before they’re pulling apart and he’s leading her away, but something’s off about it.

The embrace seemed more than of casual greeting. It holds a sense of familiarity, from what I have no clue, but it makes my teeth gnash together.

My senses heighten. Awareness sets in when Cole closes the door with a soft click after they round the corner.

“Why is she here?”

I can’t make out more than what the crack at the bottom of the door allows, but I can feel the dense look he shoots.

Fine, it was a stupid question, but I will never admit that to him.

I go to reach for the handle, but he stops me.

“What are you doing?” I ground out, confused. “We can leave. They’re gone.”

It’d been dark in here before with the crack from the opening, but now in the complete blackness, it’s like all my fears come alive. I can make out Cole’s basic shape. That’s hard to miss when he wears his bullheadedness like a suit of prominent armor.

I don’t have to see to know I’m right.

“We should follow them,” I say on a rushed whisper.

“Can’t.”

“Why not?”

“They went to his office.”

“It should be safe to leave then,” I ask more than say, feeling light-headed. The space is too small. Crammed.

He’s everywhere and nowhere at the same time, surrounding me fully.

The air grows more stifling by the minute. I don’t like how close we are. His presence, the forced proximity, his scent, it’s all suffocating. He’s suffocating. It’s making me breathless.

It also doesn’t help that he’s still shirtless. It’s dark, but I have the memory.

“Yeah,” he agrees. Tingles zip down my spine like shards of ice when I feel him at my back. “But I know you’re interested. Intrigued, same as I am.”

His breath peppers my skin from behind me. Igniting goosebumps like an inferno from my neck down to the middle of my back.

I gulp, agreeing I am but not about Silas or Lorna anymore.

“Aren’t you curious to see how long they stay in there?” Tone raspier than before and it makes my toes curl.

That familiar buzz of electricity. It sizzles, popping as it bursts like an explosion between us. It’s been here long since before we’d trapped ourselves in this room.

He feels it too, that spark. I know he does. How can he not when it’s consuming me?

“Can you turn on the light?” I huff out, not trusting myself.

“Someone could see the light underneath the door and come wondering.”

He’s right, but do I care? I’m not so sure anymore.

His tongue flicks at my earlobe lightly. More chills break out on top of my already sensitive skin.

“But I’m up for chancing it if you are, Princess.” Voice a honeyed whisper that drives me absolutely delirious.

The softness of his chuckle spreads like wildfire around the small space. He knows exactly what he’s doing, and it’s working.

My eyes slam shut. Fuck.

He leans his forehead into my hair, and I hear him breathe me in. It’s primal. Those skilled fingers latch on to my hip in the next instant. Holding me in place.

I gasp at the closeness. Somehow, he’s nearer than he already was before. Or maybe it’s just because he’s finally put his hands on me.

My outstretched palms flatten on the door as my breathing turns more erratic. Every fiber of my being stands at attention for him.

“Cole…”

That pressure, the familiar tightness between my legs grows worse. My need for him is as intoxicating as it is burning.

It’s been too long.

I jump at the feel of his hands on my bare stomach, flicking up a corner of my shirt. The calluses on his fingers scratch my skin. The movement causes my back to arch.

This working in his favor. My butt hitting that perfect spot between his legs in my jitteriness.

I feel the wickedness of his smirk at the back of my head before his hold turns ironclad. Refusing to allow me to move even if I want to.

I don’t want to.

My heart races, but he doesn’t force anything past that. The air in the room one charged bubble away from popping and it’s game over.

The only things separating him from shoving his cock into me right now and giving me what I desperately want are his shorts and my jeans.

I suddenly hate polyester and denim.

“You came here, to my house. Remember?”

I nod my understanding, knowing he can’t see. I’d been the one to come over. Sought him out.

Cole is like an animal, and right now, I want to be his prey.

I reach behind me, and my fingernails scrape across his cock featherlight. Starting at the tip, they take their time getting to the base. Torturing him like he’s doing to me.

A curse hisses past his lips and then it’s game over.

My pants are unbuttoned, and my panties shove to the side. His cock easily slides past the wetness of my walls, and I moan in pleasure at the fullness.

His one hand interweaves with my outstretched fingers, raising them above my head. The other arm stays wrapped around my stomach, holding me in place as he hits that perfect spot.

My desire pulsates. Heightening at the new level of sensation.

We become merciless beasts in our momentum. My back stays flush to his front, following him thrust for thrust as he continues to take me from behind.

It surprises me how hard and fast my orgasm hits.

The hand he’d had around my waist rises to my mouth to smother my screams. He finds his own release while I continue to ride out the wave of ecstasy.

It isn’t until I’ve buttoned my pants back up and the stickiness of his cum settles between my thighs that I fully realize what we’ve just done. It all hits me at once.

We had sex.

My eyes widen further. “We didn’t use a condom.”

My hand flies to my temple. A headache already forming as regret, anguish, anything other than need settles. The embarrassment of what we’ve just done overshadows every other blissful feeling from before.

Rattling, my bones are shaking. I can’t believe I let this happen.

My skin feels flush but not in the same burning, lust-filled way as before. No, this time it’s out of shame. My heart beats rapidly.

It’s dark but that doesn’t stop the sting of guilt I feel radiating off Cole like an aura. It’s not out of embarrassment, like for me. No, his is purely from my reaction toward him. At what I’d let happen.

The weight of his angered presence, even in full blackness like a solid ton of boulders on my chest.

I hear the elastic snap of his shorts and then, “I should go.”

Something deep inside me screams, wanting him to stay, but it never makes it out.

Bending down, he kisses the top of my head on a defeated exhale. The action stiff, so unlike how he’d been earlier.

His mouth lingers above my head. His disappointment radiates from his every pore, but he doesn’t move.

“And don’t worry about Lorna. I’ll figure it out.” Tone as cold as it is indifferent.

It’s then, right before he pulls away, that I can feel when he makes up his mind. Closing himself off to me completely.

That button in his mind clicks off, shutting down and I do nothing to stop it.

He’s left and I’m alone inside a closet that somehow feels ten times smaller than it had before.

Somehow—I don’t really remember—I manage to make it back to the Caspers’.

I squint, raising a hand to my forehead to block out the glare coming from across the fountain and below the steps.

A car sits there that I don’t recognize but I don’t have to pull the key from my pocket to guess who it belongs to.

It’s Cole’s signature color that gives it away. The jeep’s the exact same model as the one Abram had given me but this one isn’t sitting at the bottom of a lake, rotting to nothing.

My pulse jumps.

The shade so similar to my eye color that I should be unnerved but am the opposite. How I hadn’t realized this before is shocking. Even more astonishing is that it’s the exact same color as his Ferrari.

I climb inside and run my fingers along the wheel. Refamiliarizing myself with the size and features. It has all the newest updates.

Looking around, I spot a small piece of folded cardstock and pluck it between my thumb and index.

Stop overthinking.

PS You’ll need a car for work anyway. -C

I flick the card away in a dazed huff. Cole’s handwritten words now carrying a dual purpose after what just happened between us at his house.

Twenty-One

Rory

I MANAGE TO MAKE it to the hellhound’s first game of the season right before tip-off.

Work was rough today and I’m exhausted, but I made it. After a full day of school, driving downtown and back to school afterward, all I want to do is take a shower and go to bed.

I’d never say it, but Cole had been right about the car thing. It’s come in handy and it’s way better than having to con rides all the time. I love Hails but sometimes it’s nice driving alone.

I’d started to forget what it’s like to have the windows down, music up, kind of drives in complete solitude. There’s something cathartic about them.

My hand reaches for my belly when it starts to growl. Rumbling in its groans of hunger. I haven’t had dinner yet and the concessions are calling my name, but I decide to wait until at least half.

Finn will most likely not only go back on our deal, but then I might not get to see them play. I’m more excited to watch than I originally thought I’d be.

Maybe it’s because I’ve seen firsthand how hard they’ve worked getting ready for the season. In minutes it will all pay off and they’ll be able to show off their skills.

Our deal is as ridiculous as it is one sided, but I did agree to go to every home game and I’m not going back on my word.

My stomach bubbles again, but this time it’s not out of hunger. Okay—so I’m excited to see almost all of them.

By the time I arrive, both teams are already out on the court warming up. Luckily, I manage to spot Finn, giving him a little wave before taking a seat next to Hailey.

I don’t get the chance to do much more than that before he’s called into a huddle, but I’m okay with it. It’s the way that the one side of his mouth goes crooked at spotting me. It unsettles me because it’s almost like he can’t believe I kept up with the deal.

Deep down, though, I know it’s not only that. He’s surprised that I’m still here at all and it unnerves me.

“Nice paint job,” I offer Hailey. Shoving a handful of her popcorn into my mouth. My stomach hums its approval at the buttery saltiness.

“I can do yours next game?”

“I’d like that,” I agree.

She has two red stripes painted across her cheeks, matching the stripes that are on the sides of the boys’ uniforms. Hers are horizontal, theirs vertical. The lines start underneath their arms and go all the way down. An identical pattern to their white shorts.

It’s a strange conundrum, but I feel whole being here. Surrounded by a gym full of eager people. The charged atmosphere painted in a sea of crimson. Our school’s support outweighs the others by a mile.

Being here, I’m like everyone else. Normal.

I like it.

Both of our heads turn at the referee’s whistle. Time for jump ball.

Everyone is on that same high, waiting for the game to begin as the players get in position. Circling around the center of the court. Eli and our opponent are in the middle, waiting with the ref.

I sense it before I have to look. The hairs on my arms stand as my silvers connect to his blues. We collide with a magnetic force, and I hate it. I hate that I’m so drawn to him when I’m still so mad.

Mad at the destruction he created with a note and a flame. Hurt that he lied about it for so long. Part of me still believes that if I hadn’t found that lighter, he’d never have told me to begin with. Letting me carry that guilt around forever.

The worst is that I’m also furious with myself. So easily, I gave myself back over to him in that closet. I had been weak, giving in to temptation.

My mind’s been a contorted, gnarled mess in the days since because I don’t know what to make of it. I’m as angry as I am confused.

A glint of something that’s not quite a glare but also not a sneer radiates, shooting back up at me. I search the familiar lines of Cole’s jaw and neck but come up empty as well.

I can’t decipher what it means before the ref is blowing his whistle again, readying everyone to begin. Cole’s attention off me as quick as it’d been on.

All I know is he searched me out and that it’s like panic gripping straight at my throat.

The basketball is tossed, and every player’s eye hungrily circles the ring as gravity brings it back. Eli reaches it first, snapping it behind him to Finn. As quickly as Finn has the ball, he’s passing it back off to Cole.

The first game of the season is officially in play.

Cole sets the pace as captain and point guard. He slows down the momentum by dribbling the ball with one arm. While the other holds off the defense at his side.

The entire time he’s tracking an opening, he’s also simultaneously letting his boys get in position. The team works like a machine. One solid force of agility and skill under his leadership.

His guidance as natural as his ability to see ahead. Flawlessly passing the ball off to his small forward before the other player has time to react.

Normally that would be Finn’s position. But tonight, and for the next few weeks, he’d mainly play as the opening shooting guard. The regular starter on the bench with a broken arm.

Finn hadn’t been shy about sharing all this at dinner either. Recently, most nights centering around him and his updates.

Voicing his excitement about serving in a dual position this season. That’s my brother for ya, never one to shy away from showing off an extra skill.

Hailey has been speaking beside me for a while. Babbling on while my focus stays on what’s happening below.

“When did you become so invested in basketball?” I ask. Slicing straight through her sentence when she starts listing off our players’ stats.

She balks, snapping back, at the same time her lips shrink into a pucker. “Since you didn’t want to go to practice alone.” Sounding offended.

Why is she getting so defensive all of a sudden?

The truth is, I had only asked her one time to come. After that, it’s been on her, but she already seems insulted, so I don’t point it out.

Hailey’s nerves are her giveaway. She’s anxious about something but is using lame facts about the team to distract herself. I let her go, letting her fill the void with more useless chatter.

Rambling, I nod my agreement every once in a while to show that I’m listening. Even though my real attention has been back on the court for a while.

“I do like this sport, you know. I like the challenge.” That last part carries more grit. Like when a person fists their hand in the air in defiance.

“You like the sport or the players?” I ask, now shifting my head.

We scored. Eli putting us further ahead with a hook shot.

“I don’t come just to watch Finn.”

“Never said you did.”

My eyes don’t move from below. She’s back to being defensive.

This time I don’t bite my tongue pointing out the facts. Upset over the fact that we lost the ball in a cheap steal.

“I asked about the players, plural. You filled in the rest.”

I arch an eyebrow, watching in curiosity as her face flushes. The air in her cheeks hollows out the longer I wait for an answer. She knows I caught her in her slipup.

She’s the one who’s mentioned Finn, not me.

I tap at her shoulder, giving her a small grin before the woman breaks out in hives. “Chill, I’m only messing with you.”

I don’t mean to, but it just happens. My eyes flicking over in his direction. Iceman unbreaking from our hold for a quarter of a second before his attentions pulled back elsewhere.

The air in my throat clogs before erupting into nothingness. I understand Hailey’s frustrations. We can’t help who we like.

It just… happens.

“Yeah, I know. You’re right,” Hailey agrees, like she can somehow read my mind.

My shoulders cave in on a weighted sigh.

One of our players has the ball. He does a small toss off, passing it back to Finn, who doesn’t hesitate. His arms extend above his head, going for a three-pointer.

It glides in the air with practiced precision. The arch is textbook perfection as it goes straight through the net. No backboard or rim needed.

Nothing but net.

The crowd goes wild all around me, but I can’t find a reason to join in their excitement anymore.

After the game, Hailey takes it upon herself to drag us both down onto the gymnasium floor.

I’m not really up for congratulating the guys on their first win of the season after my mood soured. Figuring I could take the easy way out and congratulate Finn after he got home. Eli, I could text—never mind, I still don’t have a phone.

Whelp, that puts a damper on the plan.

I groan out my discomfort, but Hailey isn’t having it. Trudging us down the bleachers, same as everyone else.

She has no idea why I’m being like this. I haven’t told anyone about my lapsed shortcoming the other day. I don’t want her to pry out of my own self-pride, so I muster up the most effort I can manage. Plastering on a smile even if it physically pains me.

The sooner I get this over with, the sooner I can go home and climb into my bed. Sleep, something I doubt will come, but at least I’ll be alone to wallow in my self-pity.

“Congratulations on the win,” I say, giving Eli a quick squeeze.

“We did pretty well,” he agrees.

“Pretty good? You guys killed it.”

His grin turns gummy, bobbing his head in his reluctance to agree. It’s almost cute how modest he can be about his achievements.

Finn is far less bashful. “We fucking annihilated them.” He throws his arm up for a hive five that I smack back.

It’s the distraction of other students that diverts my attention. Consistently like on a clock, they come over and praise them on a good game as well.

The extra attention I usually find annoying, tonight I welcome because it isn’t until someone points it out that I notice. The leader of the hellhounds nowhere in sight.

“Hmmm, must have headed straight for the showers,” Finn decides, unfazed like he’s only now noticed too after another student mentions it.

None of them have said a word to me about it, but I can tell their friendship has strained since coming back. A rift settling in their once-perfect dynamic.

It’s in the small ways they interact. The familiar easiness of before is no longer present.

I doubt anyone at school has noticed, them ruling the same as before with a fistful of iron. But I have, and maybe it’s because I know them each on a deeper level.

Saw things most do not. Know more than what they appeared to give on the surface. It’s clear that a side has been chosen, and Cole’s isn’t facing the counter.

“Ah, well, who cares? His loss. You all did awesome!” Hailey gushes, dismissing him.

“Anyone up for celebrating with some food?”

My stomach gurgles at Finn’s suggestion of not having more than a few handfuls of popcorn, but I decline.

Finn shoots Eli a tight-lipped frown when he thinks I’m not looking.

Clearing my head, I decide not to read too much into it. Too many other things are already on my mind, despite that pinch in my chest turning into a knot.

After that, it isn’t long before I push out my goodbye and head toward the parking lot.

I swallowed up my nerves and did what Hailey wanted, staying after. Now I get to do what I want. Go home and forget about everyone.

“Odd that we didn’t see Cole,” Hailey observes on our walk to the car. Her mind stuck on the one track that I’m trying to forget about. “Usually, the first game Boone’s more lenient. Letting the guys hang out for a bit before heading to the locker rooms.”

Yes—that is strange indeed.

Twenty-Two

Rory

“ARE YOU NOT GOING to eat that?”

I shove my tray over, letting Hailey have whatever she wants from it.

The question is not something I’m not used to by this point. Her taking food from my plate how our friendship started, and the tradition hasn’t let up since.

Most days, she claims something for herself before I even have time to decide for myself if I want it.

Today it’s an orange.

“You know, where I grew up, we are known for our oranges,” she raves. Shoving a piece in her mouth. “An orange fresh off the tree is always the best,” she muses.

Hailey speaks in the present tense. Like she lives there now and not here with her family as she has for over four years.

I think that’s how most people who grow up with stable family lives are though. Nostalgic of the past because it’s hard to miss something when you still feel so a part of it.

A home that will always be there, a place to come back to. Hailey’s lucky she has a “we” to fall back on.

Mine has always only been me.

That’s a lie. I’d had Alma for a few years and maybe that’s why I had the urge to go back to the diner after that bus dropped us at the rest stop. She was my we.

“What about orange juice? How’s that?”

She moans her approval. “Don’t even get me started on that. There is nothing better than fresh orange juice. Swear.”

It’s easy to get her to talk about beaches, sunshine, or orange juice. Anything associated with the coast and Hailey will rant for hours.

I need this, her lighthearted chatter. It’s easier to digest than adding up in my mind the number of days Cole has chosen not to sit with us at lunch. Eli and Finn are here, but he’s nowhere in sight.

I shouldn’t take it personally. We are no longer the other’s problem, but it still hurts more than I should allow it to. One day, sure, no problem. Two, whatever, but by day five, it feels personal.

Was it the sex? He hasn’t tried to approach me since it happened. I haven’t tried to reach out either. Not even to thank him for the car, which in hindsight, has been a huge blessing since my job at Hardin is downtown.

I don’t have to badger Hailey about a ride. I know she’d do it, but more than what she’s already been doing seems excessive.

I shouldn’t care. He’s free to live his life, and I mine. I’d been genuine from the beginning, what happened after is on him.

Hailey snaps her fingers in my face, bringing me back to the present.

“Did you hear me?”

I blink away my confusion. “Mmhmm, yep.”

Her arms cross with suspicion. “Really? What did I say then?”

I haven’t the slightest clue.

My head and brain feel like I’d been playing bumper cars with a sledgehammer and I’m losing.

Cole is doing—whatever. I roll my eyes at myself. You don’t care. I have plenty of other things I can focus on. They don’t need to stay on him and why he’s avoiding me.

Because I know he is avoiding me.

Abram’s been around the house more than he usually is. Popping in and out for small chitchats between working from home anytime we aren’t in school.

Lorna, I’m not sure why she visited Silas, but it bugs me. Something off about the whole thing. Cole said he would figure it out, but that meant he’d have to talk to me, and that’s not happening.

Eli and I have hung out a few more times. Nothing major, but it’s been a nice break from the Finn and Hailey situation.

Ere the lack of situation it is. They both suddenly become mute anytime I bring the topic up about the other. I know something’s there. They both play the denial game. Holding their breath around the other like it’s a lottery ticket and not their lives.

Also, Finn hasn’t mentioned it since that day in the kitchen, but I can tell. He still thinks one day he’s going to wake up and I’ll be gone.

How isn’t my still being here proof enough that I’m not and don’t plan to again?

It’s exhausting. I’m exhausted.

“Uh, earth to Rory? Hello, are you with us?”

Shit! I did it again.

What were we talking about again? Right—where she used to live.

I say the first thing that pops into my head. “We should go sometime. A vacation sounds like a great idea.” I could use one.

I’m not completely lying, and I think that’s the only reason she somewhat believes me. Pulling the words straight out of my ass.

Her mouth falls. Okay, so maybe she isn’t talking about that anymore.

U-S-T-E-D with a capital B in the front is what I am.

The only thing I’ve learned worse than not feeding my best friend three solid meals a day is ignoring her. And I haven’t been caught once but twice in the same lunch period.

I don’t think offering her the entirety of my meals for the next year will fix things now. I’m so screwed.

My mouth opens, ready on the defense when she does something that surprises me instead.

Her muscles relax, molding into her seat, and I have to fight not to do the same. Somehow, I’d misread her reaction.

Hailey isn’t angry with me, she’s missing home.

I know that she’s only managed to go back a handful of times since coming here. Her hand slumps down onto her cheek, flicking at the leftover peel with the other.

How haven’t I noticed this sooner? I’m a bad friend.

Beyond bad, awful.

I know I’ve had a lot going on, but she’s been there for me, and I need to do the same for her.

I flick at a leftover stringy white piece of the pith and her face puckers when it hits her uniform.

“That’s the same reaction chicks usually have once Finn turns on the light,” Eli wisecracks. Grinning at his own joke as he chews on a piece of bland chicken breast.

Hailey chokes out the last slice of the orange she’s been nibbling in a coughed shock.

“And those, folks, are what their pussies look like after I finish with them,” Finn notes as unabashed as he is brazen. Pointing at the used remains she spit into her napkin.

“I honestly don’t know how people put up with you.” My disgust is evident.

Finn’s smile stays unbashful. “Not everyone’s as lucky as you are, lil sis. Not everyone gets to live with the Finnster.”

I pinch at the bridge of my nose on a winded sigh.

“Ohmygod, please never refer to yourself in the third person or as the Finnster ever again.” Offended with the entire female population.

Hailey chucks her used napkin at Finn. His appalled reaction as the mushed-up contents land directly in his lap makes this all less irritating.

“Boys are pigs.”

I high-five Hailey in agreement.

She nods in solitude. “Chicks before dicks.”

“Ah, look at that, all the girls are sticking together now,” Finn mocks in fake enjoyment. Wiping the last bit of orange slime off his clothes.

I stick my tongue out at him. His eyes widen before leaning over his side of the table.

“I hope a bird shits on it,” he sneers in a whisper.

My tongue clicks to the roof of my mouth. I don’t appreciate him referring to my tongue being shit on.

I flick my eyes over in Hailey’s direction before directing them back at him. Making sure to get my point across.

It does the trick. His eyes creasing as they narrow along the peaks.

“Jealous because someone already gave up on you?” I mock on a spiritless grin.

Hailey is unaware of all this since I’m purposefully keeping my voice low.

The strain he holds in his jaw at my comment is laughable. I know I struck a nerve. That soft spot he has for her larger than I imagined after I see that jump in his jaw.

Maybe, if he’d talk to me, I’d know these things and then I wouldn’t have to assume.

“Do the siblings need a time-out?” Eli asks, not as oblivious to the growing tension as Hailey.

I answer too fast. “Nope, all good here.”

“Yep, no worries, big E,” Finn adds. Determination etched across his face.

“You sure? Or do I need to track down Cole and we can put all this hostility to rest with a good old fashion vote?”

Finn slowly leans back in his seat, suddenly all smug-like, and my eyes close at the misfortune. “Yeah, where is our dear old friend anyway?” Goading, that’s what this look is.

How quickly the tables can turn.

“He mentioned something about having a conference call with Silas and an investor in Dubai?”

“Huh, he’s been missing lunch a lot lately, hasn’t he?” Finn’s tone was mocking. “Almost starting to feel like he’s avoiding us.”

When my lids crack back open, the only difference I find is now his arms are crossed.

“Maybe he doesn’t like us anymore.” My brother’s words come off innocent, but I hear the mocking irony in them.

Hitting me back just as hard as I had him.

We stay in a silent standoff until the bell rings and disperse off to our separate classes. I had mine with Eli this period, but by tonight I knew we’d be fine again. It’s how Finn and I are.

We argue, throw insults at each other, and then forget about it like it never happened to begin with. It’s a sibling thing.

Later that evening, I’m sitting up in bed, drumming my fingers on the comforter in deliberation. Finn has already come in to tell me good night, so now it’s only me and my thoughts.

My brother and I all good from earlier, like I knew we’d be.

Still, fighting sucks, all of this does.

My tapping grows the same as my impatience. How long has it been since I’ve been without my phone again?

I try and do the math in my head but end up exhausting myself before I realize I don’t care because it doesn’t change a thing. I’m not using it and that’s all that matters.

At the time, I let my anger fuel my decision-making, thinking I had been slick leaving it behind. As clever as switching tickets and a jacket with a stranger.

We all know how that worked out.

I move on, nibbling at my lower lip after biting off all the tips of my nails.

The phone is dead. It has to be. There’s no way it’s on, let alone functioning after this long. So why is it so hard to go over to the drawer and take it out? It won’t turn on, right?

Right.

I stare down at that corner of my room for so long that I give myself a migraine. I hardly feel it, my body so desensitized. Staying in the same position too long.

Leaning over, I finally decide. I will go through my phone.

I flick at the bedside lamp, leaving the soft glow from the other side on. Fluffing my pillow before wiggling my way down into my comforter.

Just not tonight.

Twenty-Three

Cole

THE BREEZE IS CALM tonight. It makes my mood that much more stale.

This kind of breeze a rarity from this spot up on the cliff. Usually, the winds are strong. Impulsive. That’s why I’d come up. I need carelessness.

Lights twinkle down at the city below. They illuminate downtown the same way they do every night. The same way they had the night I brought Rory up here after I found her wandering down a road like a lost puppy.

Unmindful of my presence, the people down there live their lives. None of them are burdened with the influence of my family’s name. The Kellet curse.

Ordinary. What’s that like?

The lack of air something I’m not unaccustomed to. Smothered under my father’s thumb my entire life, so what’s the difference now? The flatness of the wind at least can change its direction.

After the waste of a conference, sitting in my car listening to Silas drone on for the entirety of lunch. I skipped the rest of school and practice and have stayed here since.

His clinginess lately alarming even for me.

Silas Kellet did nothing without absolute purpose. If he isn’t benefiting from it, he’s not putting in the effort.

It’s too early for him to be involving me in the business this much. We despised one another, and so I thought I bought myself a few more years before this day arose. I assumed wrong.

I despise being misled, but for the moment, I have no other choice.

If I want answers, I will have to get him to trust me—that word in the vaguest of senses. Silas doesn’t trust anyone fully, not even Abram, his business partner.

To achieve this, I have to follow along. Be obedient. Gain my leverage slowly and with precision.

I can tell he’s already growing suspicious. I am his son, after all. I know how he works and I’m not stupid. He’s being too cautious, involving me some but not in anything that’s jarringly beneficial.

Bending my leg, I arch it, trying to avoid the tingly numbness that comes with staying in the same position too long. My butt already a lost cause.

The hood isn’t the most comfortable thing, but it does the job.

Besides, nothing can compare to the custom hand-stitched seats I have in the interior. They cost a small fortune but are worth every dime.

Tonight, I don’t want comfortable. I want the piercing bite of a chill. Something that paralyzes me to the bone.

Anything to wash away the moment of regret from her face in that closet. I didn’t have to see Rory to know as soon as it set in. I sensed it in the way her body stiffened. Freaking out before she started closing herself off.

Shutting down on me all over again.

I thought she’d been letting me back in. More metaphorically than literally, but that happened too. Again, I’d been incorrect in my assumptions.

That word settles like a bad taste in my mouth. It’s happening far too often these days.

I decided then, right before I stepped out on her, that this can’t happen again.

We mutually gave in, but next time, if I’m lucky enough to have another, it will be on her. I’m straining as is. I can’t take much more disappointment.

Not from her, at least.

I’ve been trying to make myself scarce out of respect for her, not myself. If I have it my way, I’ll force her hand as I’ve done in the past. I’m trying to give her what I think she thinks she wants, but it’s hard.

Silas and his selfish neediness have helped some, but the distance grows harder every day.

Rory may not realize it, but I need her. She’s my life.

My entire existence before she forced her way into my own had been dull and saturated. I hadn’t known that until it was too late. I lost her before I truly had her.

One day I hope to be Rory’s everything again, but right now, I’ll start with her trust.

Resting my arm on a propped-up knee, I twiddle the singular item between my fingers. The baton-looking thing was the same object Rory tried to shove straight through my chest out of her own anger.

I’d found this little keepsake on my comforter the day my mother had taken her own life.

My father has no idea about it.

I have no clue what it means, but I know it has a purpose. She wouldn’t have gifted it to me before she killed herself if not.

People always assume because Silas runs Hardin, that he’s the breadwinner, the smart one. What they failed to consider out of their own naivety is that my mother was the cunning one.

When she was alive, she noticed things most people didn’t take the time to observe. A smoke screen, if you will. Savage but not inconsiderate. That’s my mother.

I fist my hand around the object.

My smile out of fondness for my mother’s memory. Our world is not built around weakness. She’s the strongest of us all.

Camellia stood tall in the grass while Lorna slithers her way through it. Nothing less for the true snake she is.

This is another reason I’ve been following my father’s every will. Doing everything he asks, even as Satan himself issues the decree.

I have no idea what they are up to or if they are working together or separate. Hidden agendas are easier to hide the further you push your way into the ground.

I never got the chance to tell Rory this that day because we’d gotten occupied with other, more pleasurable activities. This isn’t the first time I’ve caught Lorna at my home.

Throughout the years, Lorna has made herself her own guest. I don’t think she came over often. Less than a handful of times that I’d caught her, at least.

I’m positive it also helped that I spent more time at their house than at my own. The frequency of an unusual meeting less significant at hers than at mine.

The other day had been the first time I’d seen my father greeting her personally. Usually, she found her own way.

Something about the impulsiveness of it all never sat right with me. Always neglecting anything associated with my father, I never read into it.

I regret that choice, like so many other things as of recent.

My patience is being tested to the extreme. Which is why I agreed to go on this trip with my father out of my own better judgment.

The humility of time my nemesis.

Resting my head, I make myself as comfortable as I can. This will be the last chance I have to see the moon from this vantage point before we leave.

The perfect circular shape, as solid as it is bright tonight. The stars its faithful company in the darkness.

I stroke my thumb across the ornamental base. “What are you trying to tell me, Mom?” I don’t expect a response. That question meant only for my mother. No one ever comes up here.

Only Rory, that one time.

The wind picks up for the first time since I showed. Finally, giving me what I wanted hours ago.

It should be of complete coincidence but something inside tells me it’s not. The shift like the season is abrupt. New beginnings can only come after fresh growth.

Change is coming.

Twenty-Four

Rory

MY FOOT SLAMS DOWN on the brake. The little time it takes my car to react as it comes to a screeching halt is impressive.

Before I know what I’m fully doing, the car gets thrown into park, and I’m jumping out. He’s back after being gone for days and I decide just then I want answers.

I can’t let it go. I have to know.

“You,” I fume, trying to play catch up. “We need to talk.”

I know Cole can hear me. How can he not when I’m one interval away from shouting? I don’t care that we are on the school’s front quad.

“I want to talk,” I repeat more sternly.

“Nice car,” he mutters over his shoulder. Never slowing his pace. “Horrendous parking job.”

My steps falter at the sarcasm that hangs dripping from his every word. Flustered wings of anger sprout inside my belly.

“Is this how it’s going to be then? You get to go back to being a dick and I’m just supposed to accept it?” I’m not sure if it’s him or me I’m rationalizing this with.

Either way, it gets his attention, Cole’s foot stopping midstep.

“Have I truly meant that little to you?” I ask, heaving out my disbelief.

His shoulders swell, harsh lines forming along the indents in his back. Widening as they move with every exhale.

A sickening feeling settles in my stomach. He’s listening, but he refuses to turn around and I refuse to take another step.

Part of me wishes he would so I can gauge his reaction. The other part is thankful that he hasn’t. Somehow, it’s easier to admit these things without those intrusive eyes penetrating straight into my soul.

“Why did you fuck me?” I choke out, feeling lighter than I have in days.

The muscles in his back tighten. The thin material of his white button-down shirt outlining his every flexed jerk of uneasiness.

My throat clogs.

I shouldn’t like the sight of that as much as I do. I’m upset with myself for being so drawn to him, even as everything in me tries to push him away.

It’s a hard thing to deny when I’ve felt the strength that they can carry. The power he holds is not only there on his upper body but everywhere else as well. Cole’s a solid powerhouse of force.

A stoutness that I used to be able to call mine.

“Cole, stop! Don’t walk away,” I panic as he starts to move again.

He doesn’t get to ignore this anymore—me anymore. This conversation should have happened long before now.

“Talk to me.” I sound exhausted, but the truth is I am. I’m tired of questioning myself. Speculating my own theories instead of asking for the truth.

His body whips around so fast I’m surprised I don’t see stars. “What? What do you want, Rory?” He seethes. A grated edge in his tone.

“I want to know what that was between us at your house.”

“A fuck. That’s it.” Eyes charged but also blank and empty. “That’s all it was, Rory.” He has no empathy for me.

Detached, he’s done holding back.

My tongue scrapes at my teeth, hating him like this. “That’s it then? It’s that simple, huh?”

I don’t believe him.

We’ve never been simple. It’s not who we are.

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?” he rages, widening his arms as he backpedals.

Revulsion for him sits like acid in my stomach. Erosive as it is pungent.

“You’re such a dick.”

“And you’re a pain in my ass!” He fumes. Words unshaken as they spew from his mouth.

My frown deepens as his eyes widen in his frustration. Both of us falling silent as something somersaults my ribs.

His nostrils flare as if he caught his mistake too, or maybe he has, and he just doesn’t care, but I do. Iceman said my, like I still belong to him.

A familiar emptiness settles there, replacing the knots when his mouth twists in a grimace. The look as rough as it is suffocating.

His fingers flex, widening as he slowly angles them between us. Eyes flashing in warning like he can’t stand the thought of me getting any closer.

My pulse drop-kicks and I don’t understand why.

“Rory, I’m not going to touch you again until you instigate it.” Voice more calm than before but not any less hurtful.

Again, I don’t understand what’s going on with me.

“Why are you being like this?” Not understanding his emotions any more than my own.

It’s like he’s taking a handful of darts and shooting them. Throw after throw, nailing them straight into my heart.

“It’s what you need.” His jaw tenses on either side. “You don’t trust me and you’re still so messed up over everything that you refuse to see me as anything other than the enemy.”

“You are,” I argue. Fatigue clawing its way up my neck.

I wrap my arms around my chest. Doubting the blazer I left in my vehicle out of my own haste will help me now. The chill I feel all the way down to my core has nothing to do with the drop in the weather.

The other students had been smart to head directly inside. I can’t say the same for multiple reasons.

“You destroyed me,” I whisper, burdened. “Do you not understand that?”

The muscles in his jaw jump, ticcing as his head shoots to the side. He can’t look at me. Can’t stomach seeing the pain I freely give over to him.

I count each new tic, and by the time I get to fifteen, those troubled, broody eyes are back on me. I shudder at the intensity.

My adrenaline from before has crashed, washing away while he made me wait. My nerves dwindle in the same vein.

“I know what I did,” he says evenly. It’s too calm, I don’t trust it. “I didn’t tell you the truth, and I apologized then, but I’ll do it again because you deserve that. I’m sorry, Rory.”

His jaw jumps again, and when he speaks a second time, the airiness is gone. The anger I knew he’d been hiding inside fights to hold still.

Unfortunately for me, it loses.

“But don’t forget, you are the one who walked out without giving me a chance to explain. You are the one who ended things.”

“No.” That thing inside me reignites as my head shakes. My skin burns with an inferno of resentment. He doesn’t get to play the blame game. Not about that. The sex, sure. We both partook, but not the fire.

That was all him.

“You don’t get to stand here and tell me how I reacted is wrong. That isn’t fair and you know it,” I accuse on a strangled noise.

“You’re right,” he admits.

My heart pounds. I hadn’t been expecting that.

“But don’t think for a second you can hate me any more than I already do myself.” My head tugs at his choppy inhale. “Because I do, Rory, every single day. I cut you, but every time you look at me like you are right now, I cut myself twice as deep.”

I blink away my surprise. I would have felt less if he’d slapped me.

He hesitates, shaking his head in his own disbelief as he looks to the sky. “So, yeah. That’s on me.” Tone as broken as I feel.

Our world, the one that has my sole focus, stalls. The silence powerful.

My mind would usually be scrambling by this point. Spinning on an endless loop, but in between the nothingness, all I can manage is the one thought.

How did we screw ourselves up this bad?

“Here,” he says. Reaching into his bag and pulling out the required blazer he never wore. “You’re going to freeze out here without one.” Shoving the navy jacket into my hands and walking away before I can argue.

I squeeze it to my chest. Refusing to believe it means anything more than it should.

I wish I could say the same for everything else.

Twenty-Five

Rory

WHEN I WALK INTO KPA, I feel for the first time the weighted pressure of the stares. Students are all around, but it’s the whispers that get to me.

My skin buzzes with awareness, hyperaware of everyone.

Before, it was something I always knew was there, but I chose to ignore it. Now it’s like everyone knows what happened outside.

It isn’t until I’m about halfway down the hall that I understand. It’s a laugh that first draws my attention. The random student’s head arching back, the piece of paper in their hand lifting with it.

Glancing around, I spot similar ones. They’re everywhere. Brightly colored sheets of paper are plastered to every locker, wall, and ceiling.

In a frenzy, I yank one out of another student’s hand. My pace slows as I scan the words. The stupid, dumb, cruel information.

My head snaps up, and the paper crumbles further in my grip at what’s before me. The strength I have wrapped around this flimsy thing, a nothingness for the person I’m imagining it is.

The life-size version of what’s printed in my hand. The disgrace oversized as it hangs concealed behind the trophy case. Mocking the entire female student body.

I move in a blind rage, already knowing who did this. There could only ever be one person that would be this cruel.

This unsettled in the head.

“Montgomery, you got a lot of nerve,” I bark.

Her mouth lifts, tugging into a satisfied smirk. Not even attempting to try and hide that this is her doing.

She’s more demented in the head than I thought.

“What, don’t tell me you’re mad because you didn’t make the first-round pick.” She’s being evasive. I’m not on the list at all. Madison is smart enough to know who’d come after her if she did.

Still, that’s not an excuse to do the same to others.

“You think this is funny?”

Her bottom lip juts out in a faux pout. “There’s always next time.”

My stomach fills with lava when she has the audacity to pretend to be sympathetic. Like she isn’t aware that the case that once held all the school’s glowing achievements is now replaced with a makeshift bracket.

Grouping girls against one another and listing them off like they are some sort of vote on a ballot.

“It’s basketball season. I’m just trying to show my support.”

Bile coats my tongue. “You think this is being supportive? Ranking innocent girls to be voted biggest slut? Are you a misogynist?”

I don’t know who she got to help with this job. It’s way too big for a single person, but whoever it is, their names are about to meet mine. Fist and knuckles.

I push up my sleeve. Iceman’s blazer too large on my frame even after I’ve attempted to roll up the sleeves. It swallows me, hitting me midthigh.

Madison’s face has always been coiled tight, but now it contorts further. Suddenly more interested in me than she had been moments ago.

A shadow flicks, crossing over her eyes.

“I want you to take it down.”

“No can do, Princess,” she speaks, eyes moving from my blazer. Flipping her hair over her shoulder keeping her face poised; she doesn’t share my deference.

I have no idea if she knows Cole’s nickname for me or if it’s pure coincidence, either way, it doesn’t matter. What matters is the fuckedupness that’s currently locked behind a glass case.

My molars grind together. I want to snap each of the hellhound’s necks for letting her get away with doing things like this for so long. This farce has no purpose other than to be spiteful and mean.

“Going to fill one out?” Her mouth turns up, slanting her chin down at my hand. “See you found one.”

“Too bad you still haven’t found a brain.”

The creases around her eyes smooth out in oversight. “If I were you, I’d go with Amelia Martinez. Heard she got an STD over break.”

“Take it down!” I snap, done with her games. “All of it, I want it gone.”

She laughs then, and it’s a deep, heinous sound. One that lacks humility for anyone else.

The noise carries the same weighted pressure of a bomb right before it’s detonated to explode. Me, I’m the bomb and she’s just set me off.

My fingers grip, locking on to the base of her scalp, tugging her down by her ponytail. We are about to go on a little field trip.

“Rory, let go!” She whines but I hold solid.

She whimpers when I tug tighter at her roots. Her head snaps farther back but she can’t do anything but trudge along.

Madison may be taller, but I have more of a vendetta.

Her heels click. Each new step carrying the weight of a single pin drop in an overawed building.

My smile turns sinister. Blood racing.

She’s about to regret any power she thinks she’s ever had over this school. I’ll show her who the biggest bitch in the building is.

Coming to a halt, I kick at the back of Madison’s knees. Her shins catch, skidding the floor before her hands have a chance to catch herself.

The sound of bone hitting tile is brutal. If I cared more, I would feel bad, but she lost any chance of sympathy from me after this little stunt.

Her knees scrape the floor, panting, she draws out air. My hold stays locked in her hair.

I yank and her head snaps up. The angle is almost unnatural, but she needs to see. See the faces of the people she’s destroying for her own agenda.

She opens her mouth to say something. I lean around and shove the wadded piece of paper I still have deep down her throat instead.

“I gave you your chance to fix this,” I seethe. “Now it’s their turn.”

Her eyes gloss over, rimming with murder.

She attempts to snatch at my legs from behind, but I grab at her too-thin wrists. Holding her head back with one hand and her arms in the other.

“It’s your turn to listen,” I say only loud enough for her to hear.

Her body starts to shake the longer she’s forced to look out at our peers’ gazes. The embarrassment, sadness, anger, everything. She has nowhere to hide. Facing the mass that is the school head-on.

Her eyes flick over to me, pleading, begging me to let go, but I refuse.

I may be the one holding her hostage, but she’s earned these repercussions all herself.

Jerking, I tug again when her eyes start to droop. She started this, she doesn’t get to wimp out now that she’s seeing firsthand the results of her actions.

Their hurt, their suffering.

I hear Madison gulp the second my mouth parts. Her nostrils flare, probably guessing what’s coming next.

Let her assume. It isn’t going to change what I’m about to let the students do.

“Anyone here a fan of what’s behind me?” Referring to the trophy case I drop-kicked Madison in front of.

Crickets.

“Go on, don’t be shy,” I encourage. My tone as vindictive as it is pushing.

Dead silence.

Good. This means the majority have a conscience and know it’s wrong or the ones who do disagree are too much of a coward to speak up. Either way, I have their full attention.

“Madison took it upon herself to make this nice little chart behind me.” I smirk, bending down. “What did you call it again? Showing school spirit?”

Her eyes widen but all I see reflecting back is her fear.

My grin turns merciless as I right myself. “I call it bullying. Madison is a bully to everyone.” That fact about as surprising as grass being green.

She tugs, and I tug harder. I’m sure her regretting wearing her hair up today is the least of her worries now.

“A bully isn’t afraid to drive a fist when they could have as easily extended a hand to shake instead. So, that’s what I’m letting everyone do today. Letting you do something she never did.”

Something she never got from her own family.

“You all get to decide if you want to extend the hand of friendship or throw the first punch? It’s your choice.” Their decision, something Madison never once gave them.

Let her clean up the mess she made or be forced to listen if they choose to let their voices be heard. That’s what I’m giving them.

The decision their own. The experience humbling as it will be humiliating for her either way.

It takes a few minutes for everyone to understand how deadly serious I am about this, but eventually, I see movement.

Someone shifts, stepping forward from the crowd. The girl tucks a piece of mousy-brown hair behind her ear. “I have something I would like to say.” Voice soft, hesitant.

She looks around, eyeing the room that’s as dead as a graveyard. Her face shows her doubt, her fear.

“It’s alright.” I encourage.

She nods out her discomfort. As if by magic, her confidence appears in the form of her voice.

“I wanted to say that for years you’ve made me feel small. More than that,” she retracts, eyes only for Madison. “Worthless. You made me feel like I’m nothing. You are awful, selfish, and greedy.”

The girl’s eye contact as strong as her need to get this off her chest.

“I dreamed of a day where I could treat you the same. Embarrass you the way you do to me. Be as petty and spiteful, and you know what, I finally have my chance. The opportunity.”

She hiccups out a chuckle, but it goes empty.

Madison wiggles and I shove my knee into her back, straightening her shoulders. She did this to herself.

“Rory says it’s our choice, and she’s right. I could be as awful as you are.” She snorts. “You deserve it, but you know what that would make me?” The girl’s eyes flick to mine momentarily before going back. “That would put me on the same level as you and that’s something I no longer want.”

Her face hardens.

“I never want to be like that—like you. So unhappy with myself that I have to make others feel less so I can feel more.”

She takes a step forward and it carries the entire weight of the building. The hallway had been quiet before, but now as she gets closer, it carries the substance of a brick of gold.

Each footfall more momentous than the last.

This is one of those rare moments where the air shifts. A single strand of anything and you’re hit in the chest with a force so strong you don’t know what to do.

Goose bumps pebble their way from your neck to your toes.

You don’t know if you should join in, applaud, or look the other way. Your mind completely numbs and all you can do is take in the absence of sound.

Stunned completely and wholly to your spot.

That’s what happens as she bends down, meeting Madison at eye level. Making them equals.

“This is me extending the hand,” she starts. “The one you don’t deserve but the one I’m giving you because we are not the same.”

Her posture loaded and foreboding even in her hunched state.

“We are not the same, Madison.”

The casual tilt of the girl’s head is one of triumph. Her spine straightens. Standing taller than before as she heads back toward the crowd.

Her words more metaphorical than literal since I still have Madison’s hands locked in my hold.

Madison’s posture goes lax against my legs. I don’t doubt that if my knee wasn’t here, she’d have collapsed completely. The girls’ words hitting her harder than if she’d thrown empty mockeries her way.

Cut deeper than any of Madison’s artificial ridicule.

My ribs unfurl like a box of sand so I can only imagine how hers must feel.

Dropping her arms, I pull the paper from her mouth. It’s like a yellow, soggy ball of biscuit dough.

I lean around, meeting her at the same eye level as the girl before. She looks weak, I want her gutted.

“Everything we do has a consequence.” That girl single-handedly decided yours, I want to add, but decide it’s unnecessary. Everyone saw that it was. “Do you understand now?”

Carefully, those eyes with lashes thickly coated in a now smudged layer of black mascara watch me. She rubs at her throat but says nothing.

I lower my voice. This part isn’t for show, it’s not for everyone else like before. These words are for her and her alone.

“I know what it’s like to have sucky parents. Ones that have a heavy hand...” I pause. Making sure she understands what I’m getting at. What I witnessed at the Caspers when they came over for dinner.

Her wince tells me she does.

“But just because they do awful things to us doesn’t mean we are allowed to do the same to others. Our actions are our own. The fallout the same.”

Her eyes hood over.

I keep my face neutral, emotions veiled. I won’t feel sorry for her.

She didn’t ask to be put in the situation with her family, sure, but her actions outside of that are her decision.

I glance behind her. “I want it all taken down by the end of the day.”

Eli’s smirk telling, widening the closer I get. Arms crossed with a shoulder perched against the wall. Standing off to the side of everyone else.

I evade the mindless look, not stopping.

“And she still doesn’t consider herself a Casper.” Chuckling out the words at my back.

I roll my eyes.

Twenty-Six

Rory

“HEY, WAIT!”

I don’t have to turn around to know that it’s my best friend. Hailey’s voice a hard one to miss, it’s so boisterous.

“No, not you, I don’t even know you.” She scoffs, shoving past some dude who’s lingering by his locker.

I fight a grin. Her bluntness at times has no mercy.

“For someone so popular, you are one hard lady to track down,” she puffs out. Following in step.

“What’s up?”

“Dang,” she asserts. Looking around at the same thing I am. “Looks like your stunt earlier finally knocked Madison down a peg. The hallways are spotless.”

By spotless, she means Madison’s nasty bracket things are gone. Not a neon sheet of paper in sight.

Even the trophy case is back to its former shiny prize-and-plaque glory.

Strange how fast things can get done with a little pressure and influence.

“Have I mentioned that you’re my hero because if I haven’t, you are?” She says with a dreamy-like wonder in her sigh.

I brush off her compliment. I didn’t do anything but bring attention to what was going on. What happened after that is on everyone else.

“You wanted something?” I ask, steering us back on track.

“Oh, right,” she replies. “Know how you told me about that book? The one Lorna wants and thinks is hers. You said it wasn’t then got in a fight with Cole. You ran away. Went Missing. The boys popped back up at your old job. You asked that lady you used to work with about it to be sure and—”

“—Alright I get it. I get it.” I chuckle. I don’t need a recap. I was there. I know what happened. “Get on with it.”

“Anyhoo, so last night my parents got to talking about a former client. Said the old man died a widower and didn’t have any other family.”

“Okkkay, what are you getting at?”

“This,” she says, handing me a business card.

I flip it over, not recognizing the name or the number. “Should I know what this is?”

“Probs not, unless you’re psychic.” I arch a puzzled brow and Hailey scoffs. “What I’m trying to tell you is if you’re still curious, I think this person can help. He helped my parents.”

Before I can open my mouth to ask how she’s already answering for me.

“The guy is some rare book appraiser. Helped them figure out if they were worth anything and could be a selling feature for the house.” She clarifies, “They were, by the way.”

“The point?”

She hikes up her bag on her shoulder.

“My point is…” she says, enunciating her tone to be dramatic because I keep interrupting. Something I wouldn’t have to do if she’d get on with it already. “I thought he might be able to help you, too.”

I flip the card. “Why would I need his help? Alma said that a customer left it. And we all know Lorna’s crazy.”

Hailey shrugs her shoulder. “I don’t know, in case you get curious, I guess. Want to know if there’s more to the story.” She winks. “No pun intended.”

“What does he do exactly?”

“Figures out the value, can tell you what addition they are, things like that.” She snaps her fingers as if suddenly remembering something. “Oh, my dad mentioned that the guy’s also a collector too. Has some super rare first editions.”

We walk past an industrial-size trash bin packed with discarded blue, pink, and yellow neon papers.

“Just think about it. Could be helpful.”

Honestly, I have no clue if this could be of value or not, but it’s a nice gesture, so I tuck the card into the side pocket of my book bag.

Besides, who knows. Hailey could be right, and this guy might be able to give me some answers or at least prove Lorna wrong.

I have shown Hailey my book before. You don’t have to touch it to know it’s made of a finer quality. Just looking at the hardcover, you can tell it’s a nice edition.

The gold leaf wrapped around the red-dyed binder isn’t something picked up at an everyday bookstore.

Her eyes widen into alarming cookie-sized orbs. “One other thing. My mom said the guy is… off.”

“Should I be worried this guy is going to murder me?” I say it jokingly but am not at all. Not after I saw the hint of unsettlement flash in those pupils.

“No, no,” she stresses, grabbing at my bicep. “Not that, just… strange… with people. You know, kooky.”

That doesn’t make me feel any better.

Kooky, how?

Twenty-Seven

Rory

Then…

LIVING WITH SOMEONE WHO is so absent all the time, you begin to pick up their traits. Their quirks.

I know the antidepressants my mother takes are like candy to a toddler and to never touch them. Or accidentally blend a few into a smoothie, thinking they are jelly beans.

I was five.

So, it’s strange, counting the number of pills left in the bottle and coming up with the same number as yesterday. Lillian is as dependent on them as she has been on alcohol for the last couple of months.

That being a new staple in her diet she’s been testing out.

Usually, my mother chooses to void the world out. One day sinks into the next until it all becomes a blur. Not today, though, today is one of the few days where she’s woken up and hasn’t needed a single pill.

I never understood how she’s so dependent on them. Then today, she wakes up and acts as if she’ll never need them again. It’s like something clicked in her brain and she found purpose again. I will never comprehend how that works.

Today had been great. Tonight, a different story.

Our home is usually filled with lulled silence by this point in the evening. Now it’s heavy with yelling and shouting. The phone’s been plastered to my mother’s ear for the last hour.

I jump.

Something hits her bedroom wall with a loud thump. More muffled sounds, then another louder, more assertive thump. This one sounded breakable.

Cautiously, I move closer, cracking the door only enough to peek through. Her hand is on her hip, back to me as she listens on the other side of the line.

I glance around at the disaster she’s made. Clothes and shoes are thrown everywhere. I bite my lip, internally stifling a moan. I know what I’m doing tomorrow after she passes out.

“You’re telling me this is my fault?” Sounding astounded, voice rising. “This was your idea,” Lillian accuses.

Whoever it is on the other side of the line is talking again. Lillian starts pacing, listening intently. The worry lines on her forehead deepening with each turnaround.

“Don’t tell me to calm down,” she argues. Hiccuping into the receiver. “You wanted to meet her.”

Her? As in me? Who else can they be talking about?

I wish I could hear what is being said on the other side of the phone. Who is she talking to? Is it that man from dinner? The one who gave me my new necklace.

Lillian’s movements stall, taking a drink from her bottle of wine. Absentmindedly wiping at her chin when it dribbles.

She’s been listening for a while. Shoulders dropping every few seconds as they coil in closer.

“I’m sorry, okay?” Her voice was different than what I’m used to. Sounding almost sad, childish even. “Forgive me?”

Whoever it is, is talking again, and Lillian doesn’t like what they’re saying. One second her tone is soft, like a plea, the next she ignites. Blowing up into a rage.

“Stop saying that!” She screams. “I’m not crazy.” She retracts, “Know what? Maybe I am, but it’s because of you! Yeah, you!”

My eardrums rattle. A ringing sound echoes in them as the thick glass from the bottle smashes into the wall beside my head. The ruby color of the wine slowly seeps down her beige wall.

If my mother cared more, she’d have noticed me standing behind the crack of the door, her neglectfulness something I’m accustomed to.

“No!” She snaps with an angry pant. “You should have never come.”

Is she crying?

If she isn’t, she’s on the verge.

“No, you don’t understand,” she mutters with a sob. “We’re doing fine without you. I don’t need you.”

Even at my age, I can tell she’s lying. Whatever she’s saying, she doesn’t mean.

“Goodbye.”

Hanging up, she screams. Throwing the phone across the room before the weight of it all settles and the tears start full force. Big, fat, angry tears leak down her cheeks.

I’ve never seen my mother so distraught, so damaged.

I must move or make a sound because suddenly, her head is peeking up from behind her hands. Eyes as wild as her hair.

“What do you want?” Lillian wails with a sob.

Her eyes lower past my chin and before I know what’s happening, she’s up and charging. Fury outweighing the sadness.

“Were you spying?” She accuses.

I take a step back, she matches it.

“No, no, I wasn’t—”

“—Don’t lie. I’ve dealt with enough liars tonight.”

She’s drunk. I can smell the soured fruit on her breath. Those platinum irises that usually match my own are more of an iron color now.

Another step, another follow. “Know what we do with liars? We punish them!”

Her hand stretches, reaching close to my throat, and I think she is about to do something different than what she actually does.

Spite, rage, and hellfire burn from her eyes.

I almost—almost—feel relief when she yanks at the necklace around my throat instead. The slight pinch at the back of my neck like mercy to the wounded.

She’s gone back to her room by the time I let the tears spring to my own eyes. I should be more relieved than upset, but I can’t help it.

With delicate fingers, I pick up the now broken chain from the ground. This is not only the nicest gift I’ve ever received on my birthday but the only one as well. Now it’s broken. Lillian broke it and then went back to her own cushion of misery.

I look from her door back to the one that holds my exit across the house. Wiping away the loose droplets of sadness from my cheeks, I decide.

Lillian won’t notice anyway.

I leave.

I don’t remember how I end up here, but I do. In a strange, even confusing way, it’s like this place finds me.

Stumbling inside, my mouth waters as I help myself to the booth seat in the farthest corner. The fatty smell of grease and fried food overwhelms my senses.

My feet dangle over the edge but no one comes to bother me. Content, I stay drawing shapes out of the extra salt someone had spilled on the table.

The rhythmic pattern soothing me, calming.

“Gotta name, kid?”

Craning my neck, I blink up at the woman with honey-colored eyes and dark skin. “Do I need to leave?”

She looks over my head with a sigh, wiping her hands on her rag. Her eyes easy, but conflicted. Conflicted easily?

“Scoot over,” she finally decides. Shooing me down so that she can take a seat next to me. “My puppies could use a break, anyway, being on your feet all day is rough.” She concedes, and I don’t know why but it makes me grin.

Puppies? She means her toes.

The gold flecks in her irises warm when my smile turns into a light chuckle. She tosses the rag over her shoulder, studying me when I go back to tracing lines in the salt.

“You know, if you added some pepper, you’d have two colors instead of one. Add more variety.”

I lift a shoulder but continue as I am. What I have is fine.

“What’s your name?”

“Uh, it’s Aurora, but I like Rory better.”

“Alma.”

My head lifts on a weak smile.

“You got a mom? Dad?”

Slowly my earlier movements stall as I shift in my seat. Looking down as I now twiddle my thumbs in my lap.

“Don’t got one?”

“She’s at home,” I answer faintly. Afraid she’ll send me away or worse, call my mom and then—never mind, Lillian won’t answer. If she’s even awake.

“Your mom, she lets you run around by yourself like this?”

Lillian doesn’t know I left. I’ve never done something like this before.

I sniffle. “We had a fight.”

“A fight?” I can hear her surprise, but her tone is soothing. A patience in it that my mother never has. “Over what?”

Silently I pull out the broken chain, setting it and the crescent moon pendant down on the table.

“It broke off its chain,” I explain.

“A shame,” she agrees, picking up the items and running them through her fingers. “Heavy too. Real platinum?”

Her gaze turns intrusive, arching a brow.

“Did you steal it?”

“No, it was a present. I got it at dinner.”

“And it’s already broken?” There’s that shock in her voice again.

I nod my head. The astonishment on her face molds into something like she can’t be sure if she believes me. She’s trying to figure out if I’m lying.

I’m not.

“I got it for my birthday. I turned this many.” Raising seven fingers, showing her.

She ponders that a moment and then says, “Know how to braid?”

My nose pinches, shaking my head side to side. My hair bounces in front of my face and she laughs. It sounds like sunshine and chocolate chip cookies.

Pulling the towel off her shoulder, she yanks at the threads. The seams tear easily with a little force.

I watch in amazement as she ties off one end and begins wrapping one thread over the other. Interweaving the multicolored pieces of material together.

“See, a braid,” she says, holding up the finished product when she’s done. “And now,” pausing as she pinches the ball of the medallion through the material. “A bracelet.”

I rotate my wrist in awe. The moon gleams as it dangles. She fixed it.

“Just as good as before.”

“Can you show me? I want to do it too,” I ask, excited.

She clucks her tongue. Plump cheeks rounding further at my glee. I’m practically jumping from my seat.

“Cool it, silver sparklers. We don’t need you tearing anything up.”

My cheeks warm.

Pulling at the rag, she divides the rest of it up into enough pieces for both of us. Setting half with me and the other for her.

Studiously I follow along, mimicking her movements as she shows me how to lay one over the other. Tying both additions to my wrist after we’re done. The same as she had the original.

“You said it was your birthday?”

“Mmhmm,” I answer, still distracted by my new items.

Instead of one necklace, I have three bracelets. What a neat trade.

She gets up and is back before I have time to question where she went. Gnawing on her lip, she pulls out the item hidden behind her back.

My mouth parts in awe.

“No child should be sad on their birthday.”

It’s a book, shaded in the color of crimson with gold leaf on the border. It’s beautiful.

Twenty-Eight

Rory

“AM I IN TROUBLE?” I question, striding into Abram’s office at Hardin.

It’s Saturday, and Hailey and I plan on going to the hellhounds game together. It’s a weekend game away, so it’s starting earlier than a typical one. Plus, factor in the drive and I need to leave soon.

Our agreement is that I have to be at every home game, but I’ve found I enjoy watching the hellhounds play. Plus, Hailey was all up for the little road trip an hour away when I mentioned it.

I’m beginning to understand why Finn talks about basketball so much. The game is a rush. Basketball is a sport that requires not only skill but also the trust and knowledge of your teammates.

Every member has a role, respected with equal talent.

Finn is the best player overall. Playing multiple positions this season has proven his strength in the game. He’s aggressive but agile. Eli might be leaner than the other two, but he is the strongest. Defending post like it’s an obligation.

Cole’s leadership, like everything else he does, comes naturally. Combine his strategy with passing the ball and his vision to create openings, the teams unstoppable.

“I feel like I’m being called to the principal’s office,” I quip.

“Good, I was hoping you hadn’t left yet.”

“Hailey’s expecting me to meet her at her house and head out from there.” Hinting to Abram that I can’t stay long.

“I want to talk to you about something.” His posture is stiff, shoulders straight. It’s of convenience rather than sincerity.

The tendons at my back grow taut.

My one task of signing in a package came in a while ago. It’s a Saturday, so there isn’t as much to do since most people work Monday through Friday.

Most being the operative word. Abram is an anomaly.

Before he called me up, I’d been sitting waiting to leave so I could go pick up Hailey. I could have sorted the outgoing mail to drop off, but I’d already done that yesterday.

The job is pretty straightforward, sort, send out, sign in, repeat and I like it. Even if I do find myself twiddling my thumbs more consistently than when I worked at Alma’s diner.

“Don’t think that because you’re eighteen now, I can’t be upset with you for getting a job here.”

I open my mouth to rebut, but he lifts a pointed finger, and it snaps closed.

“I’m not angry that you want to work here. It’s actually a relief to me that you find yourself taking an interest in the business. What I have a problem with is how you went about it. Sneaky, and behind my back.”

“Isn’t it more impressive that I got the job on my own merit and not because I know the boss?” I argue.

Besides, I’ve always had to do things in the past myself, finding a job no exception. He should be grateful—they all should—that I applied here and not somewhere else.

That I know for a fact would have been a bigger argument.

“Connections would have gotten me in, sure, but I don’t need them for where I am. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“To get a job in the mail room, I guess not.” Abram’s lip twitches like he’s trying not to smile. He looks almost impressed by my willingness to argue my stance.

“Exactly.”

“You may not think you need them and maybe you don’t, but connections are what run not only this business but the world.” Words as rational as they are wise.

“I’m managing fine for now.”

“There is a difference between manage and carelessness. I don’t mean to sound indifferent to your decisions, but you’re lucky. Many don’t have your luxury. Don’t think you’re taking it for granted by asking for help. Being a Casper is a privilege, not a birthright.”

Isn’t that exactly what it is though? A title carried because of a name’s sake. The blood that runs through one’s veins.

His eyes deepen in anguish and something else I can’t quite figure out. “Again, it’s your life. Just know I’m here if you ever need me.”

I scoff. “You mean if I change my mind?”

Why do I sound so hostile all of a sudden?

“That’s not—”

“—That’s exactly what you’re saying. You think your child working in a mail room is beneath you. Embarrassing even? At your own company, no less.”

He sighs, pulling the glasses away from his tired eyes. “I am trying to help you, Rory, but you have a way of making it extremely difficult.”

“Why do you care so much? This, where you are sitting right now, has always been Finn’s spot to fill. I wouldn’t even have been a thought if my mother hadn’t died.”

“You are not utilizing your potential. You are so much smarter than,”—he waves his hand dismissively—“handing out misdelivered mail to my staff.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. People who are no smarter than you could be running this company. Possibly even better, but they aren’t given the same opportunity. The same luck.”

I lean in, pushing my palms into the edge of his desk. Driving the truth home.

“You may think you are better because you hold the highest title, but you aren’t. You’re not above them outside these walls, same as my job is not below me inside them.”

Abram goes quiet for a moment. His gaze is as unsettled as it is enamored. I don’t appreciate either expression.

What I said wasn’t meant to impress him. I said it because it’s the truth.

The Caspers are fortunate because they found opportunity and ran with it. I’m not negating their success, just pointing out that so many others do not receive that chance. I know what it’s like to struggle. To live off every paycheck. So no, this job is not beneath me.

“You underestimate the value of your team,” I say finally after several drawn-out minutes. Pushing off his desk. “I need to get going.”

Abram clears his throat, rising from his chair, a heaviness in his posture that wasn’t there before. “I’ll walk you out.”

I agree only because it seems easier. Not because I’m not up for the fight, but because I’m already going to get a mouthful from Hailey as is for being late. And I don’t need another boost of criticism.

One for the day is enough.

Abram may be respected in the business world, but how much of that would be lost if people learned about his past? Abandoning not only his unborn child but the mother as well when a better opportunity presented itself.

The elevator pings and we both step out into the main lobby. A woman steps on as we pass.

Abram gives a curt nod while I greet her by name. Her face lightens to a grin as I do the same.

I can feel the weight of his expression as we continue to walk, but he says nothing.

The same thing happens again as we make our way across the oversized lobby. But by the fourth time, he does say something.

“Does everyone know my daughter?”

I shrug. “They know me as Rory. A person who drops off their mail.” Also, who shows an interest in their lives—not as a Casper.

“Thanks, Gary,” I say, thanking the security guard for opening the door on our exit.

His cheeks swell as his spine straightens, taking in who stands beside me. The complete opposite of his relaxed posture when he’d seen me.

“Mr. Casper, I hadn’t seen you come in, my apologies.”

Abram waves his hand. “I came up straight from the garage.”

“Oh well, enjoy the rest of your weekend.” His smile as overripe as it is forced.

“You too,” I answer for the both of us. Ready to get the hell out of here and go watch the game.

Twenty-Nine

Rory

I LIFT MY HEAD at the knock.

“You need a ride to the game?” Finn asks with his knuckles still on the frame.

“No, I’m good.”

“Okay, just checking because last time I texted and never got a response.”

Dang.

Guilt begins to eat at me. I haven’t had a phone for a while, and I should have anticipated that someone would say something eventually, but it still catches me off guard.

The phone is nothing more than a paperweight by this point. Lifeless as it sits in the drawer.

I knew this question would come up, but I can’t think of an excuse right now.

The longer I stall, the more I see the flicker of emotions shift across Finn’s face. He wants to say something, I can tell it’s on the tip of his tongue. His mouth flattens into a line instead.

More guilt sets in.

“Sorry, that’s my bad. I’d been running late when I went to meet Hailey for your last game.” The half lie comes out easy. I may have been late to pick her up, but I never saw his text because I’m not using my phone.

Finn’s brows bunch. Does he know the truth?

He looks around me and it’s like a swell of air fills my stomach. I know where he’s looking, and it bothers me. Especially at seeing the softness that settles in them when they meet my gaze again.

Finn knows.

If he wants to pity me, I don’t need it.

I suck in a stilted breath. “We showed, and you won. That’s all that matters, right?”

Please don’t push. Please. Please.

It’s stupid and I don’t know why but I physically can’t make myself go through it. I have zero clue what’s on it, but it’s the unknown that’s the worst part.

I will sometime, but not now.

His lips purse watching me but then the side of his mouth tugs, and my stomach flattens. He isn’t going to drill me. At least not right now.

“All good?”

“All good,” I respond, overemphasizing my smile.

“Cool… don’t be late.”

“You can bet on it.”

Trying to find parking is an absolute nightmare. Usually, KPA has a decent amount, but I quickly realized that on game nights, that goes out the window.

To start, the main lot is full. Something I’d learned my lesson about from the very first game, so I don’t even bother driving by. I try the overflow lot, but that’s full too, so I drive around to the over-overflow section trying to find a spot.

By overflow, I mean nothing more than an extra field used for outdoor practices.

My shoes carry a nice, cakey, brown layer of mud on the bottom as I step into the building. Even in the leftover lot, appearances must be met. The grass watered. Sprinklers used to make it a nice unhealthy shade of green despite being halfway through fall.

“Oh good, you made it.”

Some kid mentions before shoving over half a dozen water bottles in my hands.

“Fill em’ up and bring them back when you’re done.”

“I think you’re looking for someone else,” I say, setting them down. Instantly regretting coming to the side of the building closest to the locker rooms.

The guy picks them up and, on a peeved sigh—unnecessary, by the way—rams the crate back into my chest. “Rory, right?”

“…Yes?”

“Nope, you’re in the right spot. You signed up to help volunteer.”

I set them down for a second time. This time with more force. This guy, who I’ve never seen, let alone know, is mistaken or confused at the very least. I didn’t sign up for anything.

His attitude is also not helping the situation.

“Look, buddy, I didn’t volunteer,” I grit out.

“Well, someone signed you up to help me get stuff ready for the players before the games.” He flicks a thumb over his shoulder at the fountain. “So, get on and help.”

His bluntness is starting to grate on my nerves. Kidding, we are way past starting because he’s already here.

“I don’t understand.”

“Look, it’s easy.” Picking one up and demonstrating by unscrewing the cap and filling it. Showing me like I’m an idiot.

That’s not what I meant, and we both know it.

“You have the wrong person.”

He latches on to the bridge of his nose like he should be the one that’s frustrated. Did I say he’s grating on my nerves? Because he’s full on smashed those. This kid is riding the fine line of my sanity.

“It’s not a science.”

My jaw goes slack. “I can see how someone like you would think that, but I’m not doing this.”

“Then explain to me why your name is up on the registry?”

I snatch the clipboard from his smug grasp. The color drains from my face only to reappear like a hot fire that’s exploded.

Shoving it back into his chest, I push through the swinging door, uncaring of anyone else in the boys’ locker room.

My limbs tingle, I’m so mad.

Vaguely I hear a mix of catcalls, whistles, and a few shocked gasps. I overlook it all. I’m on a one-track blind tunnel of fury to find the soon-to-be-dead jerk whose name rhymes with troll.

When I do find him, I don’t hesitate, slapping him across the face. The sound ruptures like hot explosions around my wrist.

“How dare you!” I blaze furious.

I go to do it again, but he grabs at my palm before I can. Forcefully holding it there in midair as his eyes collide with mine. They carry a similar razor-sharp edge as mine. I’m sure he wasn’t expecting my presence, let alone the slap, but he deserves it.

I know he’s pissed, but that makes two of us.

The shallow tilt of Iceman’s head would be terrifying to anyone else forced into this close proximity. Like I’ve told him in the past though, I’m not everyone else.

My eyes glint. He can’t scare me.

“Everyone out,” Cole says with an alarming sense of calmness. Eyes never leaving me the entire time. His jaw pulses. “My girl wants to have a chat.”

“Your girl?” I choke out the question on an empty laugh only after everyone’s gone.

I pull away and his fingers unlock easily. He’s held me in his grasp the entire time it took them all to leave. Locked in midair like the claw from a stuffed animal-filled machine.

“Not anymore, Iceman.”

His jaw grates, but other than that, he’s statuesque in his position.

“Why did you do it?” I whip around, circling him.

His hand drops as his spine straightens with his ego. “Gonna have to be more specific, Princess. I do lots of things.”

“Cut the bull.”

He grins, but it’s savage. “Oh, she’s feisty tonight, folks.”

“Why did you do it?”

“It’s alright, I always did like a little crazy with my cornflakes,” Cole remarks. Avoiding the question and being an ass about it too.

“Amusing,” I deadpan.

“You’re the one who came in swinging, baby.”

Why does he suddenly sound amused? And why does it make me more attracted to him? Most importantly, why don’t I instantly want to tear out his eyes from their sockets for acting this way?

“I came in here to have a discussion, a chat.”

“Is that not what we’re doing?” He says it innocently, but I can hear the underlying arrogance.

Cole’s tone is so self-righteous that only he can upset me while simultaneously making my skin prickle with a fury of desire.

I clear my head on a spiritless breath.

“I came in because I know what you did.”

“And just like that, death loses its lure.” He broods like he’s suddenly a poet.

I jerk around, stopping before him. “What’s your problem?” I spat.

“Stop pretending to be naive, Rory. We both know why you came in here and it’s not because I signed you up to be the new water girl. We both know this is exactly like something I’d do.” His jaw squares in shortness. “So, save your excuses, Princess.”

My throat burns.

“You knew it would upset me, and you still did it anyway.” I try and defend but it comes off weak. I’m still trying to rationalize that he admitted it.

My hands start to shake because he’s right, and I hate it. Same as I do every time, he points out the truth.

“You came in here all high and mighty of your own free will.” The cushion of his thumb touches the vein on my neck. His eyes brighten in fascination when I swallow. Feeling that pulse point jump.

I’m upset with myself when I lean into his touch automatically instead of pushing him away.

“You could have just as easily turned around and found your seat, but you didn’t.” His hand drops, eyes flicking up to my mouth. “Why?”

I swallow again. Cole’s going to make me say it.

I don’t want to admit it.

I’m not sure if I should be relieved or terrified when I take too long to respond. His mouth parts like he expected this reaction from me. His answer already on the ready.

“The truth is, you like it.” Scanning over me, my pulse quickens as he rakes over my face, closer now. His voice a low hum on my lips. “You hate that you do, but you like the control, dependability. You like it because it’s something you never had. Something I carry in spades.”

His mouth hovers over mine.

My heart pounds. He’s too close. My senses are overwhelmed with him. A frenzy of chaos sizzling everywhere.

“You said you wouldn’t touch me again until I initiate it,” I warn.

Not trusting my self-restraint more than his.

“I’m not,” he whispers. Peppering my cheeks with his warm breath. The mintiness overwhelmed my already heightened senses. His lips a hair’s width away from kissing me.

How did we end up like this? My chest thunders while he seems calm.

Cole is close, and I want him closer still instead of farther away. It’s torture, bones-snapping, limbs-breaking torture.

I came in here furious and swinging and now I want something polar opposite and I can’t decide if I’m okay with it.

The seconds tick by slowly, but neither of us moves. The tension thickens, heightening like a fog around the room.

My tongue pokes out, touching his, and he lets out a low grown. My nerves fire off at the sound. Tingles shoot down my spine. Settling right beneath the growing ache between my legs.

I become impulsive with my desire. The small touch as agonizing for him as it is for me. I knew I couldn’t trust myself.

I do it again, I can’t help it. Flicking it this time, I run it along the softness of his more plump bottom lip. It’s been too long since I’ve felt them.

Cole is like a drug I can never deny once I’d had that first hit. The bareness of our touch isn’t enough. I want—need—the swell of his lips pressed to mine. Crave it.

“How do we keep ending up like this?” My voice is raspy.

I can’t say I’m losing my mind because I’ve already lost it.

His face stays drawn like he suddenly can’t read me. “Isn’t it obvious?”

My mouth pulls in. Should it be?

It’s then that I feel the tug in my chest. It’s been there a couple times, but I don’t know what it means. I don’t have time to wonder long, Cole deciding then that whatever he sees on my face is his answer.

The moment breaks like a bucket of cold water over the head.

His features shut down. Hardening back to a stone wall right below my very eyes. Shoulders stiff, jaw inflexible, eyes as deep as a frozen chunk of iceberg buried in the ocean.

What just happened? We are one thing, and before we can collide, turn into something completely different. The strain explodes around us in a fleet of silence.

Iceman watches me through sobered eyes, and I despise it. I use it as fuel to ignore the pang of hurt that pulsates, flashing inside my chest.

This type of hurt shouldn’t be here, but it is.

I bite back my sneer. “You always did know how to rip hearts straight from the chest.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” His eyes glow. “But I guess it does take one to know one.”

My insides plummet. Skittering to my stomach like he’s shoved a sword sharpened on both ends straight through me.

He has no idea, not me.

The worry lines on his face deepen, but he hasn’t blinked once. It doesn’t intimidate me. You can’t intimidate what you break because it’s already separated from being whole ever again.

“You’re terrible for me.”

“I am terrible for you,” he agrees, and it burns like poison down my throat.

“Let me go then.”

“The door’s right behind you.”

My chin levels out. That’s not what I mean. “Drop the act. You know what I’m saying.”

If Cole is the one holding the gun, then I’m the bullet. Together we’re a deadly combination of ruin and injustice.

“Can’t.”

“Why not?”

Our eyes filled with equal parts rage that can’t break the other’s.

Iceman’s teeth glint. Sharpening to deadly points as they show. “Because I’m selfish, Aurora. You make me selfish, crazed, delusional. Reckless. I can never think clearly when it involves you.”

A dark chuckle leaves his mouth at my expression. I’ve heard this all before, but he isn’t done.

“Wanna know something else? I make these rash decisions because I like it, because it’s who I am, and I won’t deny that sometimes I do it because I like to see how they affect you. Firing you off, like when you came in blazing with a storm behind your eyes, is exciting.”

My ribs swell. The intensity of his truth pinning me to the spot.

“I make you insane?”

“Aren’t you listening? You are my sanity.” Blue eyes penetrating like a shard of glass straight to my soul. Shadowing over me with his height, his weight… his everything.

Cole’s words as brutal as they are unhinged.

“I push, you pull. You run; I chase. You hurt; I bleed. That’s what we do, who we are.” The truth radiates, hanging from his mouth. His tone grim, eyes matching the blackness of his hair.

I don’t remember when my hands latched on to his jersey but my mouth parts in surprise when I look down. His clasp around mine before pulling them off. Putting more distance between us.

“I bleed for you, Princess.”

The words like a hero to kryptonite.

Cole makes me question everything. Just when I think I have a grasp on what I feel, he jumbles my thoughts. Rearranging them to the point of insanity.

My breathing turns chopped. I bleed for you.

He grew up knowing he’d have a voice and uses it well. I didn’t find mine until I needed it to survive. If giving orders is his weapon, then I’m the shield. Using what I have to make it another day.

I want to let him back in, to give in to this connection, same as I once had before, but something holds me back. Even after all he’s said, something crushes, locking its hold around me, not willing to give myself over.

At least not in the way he wants or needs.

It’s like we’re both breathing but on two separate wavelengths. The pull, the attraction is there, but something inside won’t tug past that.

We had sex, and like he said, it was just a fuck. I see that now. The excitement, the need fulfilling our desires, in that moment of passion outweighing all the bad.

But only for a moment. Reality crashing back in after the euphoria lifted from my eyes and reality set in.

“You shouldn’t make decisions for me,” I say, only to break the silence.

He already knows, admitted he does it on purpose, but he needed to understand. He shouldn’t have volunteered me. Even if Cole is unyielding to the fact, it had to be said.

“I don’t like when you ignore me,” he admits, and it sends my heart plummeting all over again. “Wrath is something I would take any day over silence from you.”

I gulp, my emotions everywhere right now. “Is that all?”

“No. I also don’t want you to give up on me, on us.”

“Iceman…”

His throat clogs, bobbing. “Lie to me if you have to, I’ll pretend I believe it.” Cole’s tone laced in strain.

He stays just as he is, even as the door rattles and a voice speaks behind us. “Coach wants you on the floor.”

That’s Finn.

I rotate my head, craning it to the side when Cole’s gaze becomes too intense. He answers my brother but doesn’t move his focus from mine, waiting.

“You should go,” I say only loud enough for him to hear when he doesn’t automatically move.

“Now,” Finn says, sounding more urgent.

“I’m coming!” He thunders, daring me to do as he’s asked. To lie to him. I can’t do either, lie to him or give the truth. So, I say neither.

It isn’t until I hear the groaning sound of metal scraping painted concrete that I give in. Allowing Cole this one thing, one truth right before he exits.

“Don’t disappoint me. I’ll be watching.”

He doesn’t respond but I hear the split-second pause of the door where it hesitates before closing. I’m thankful for the silence that follows, for the footsteps that head in the reverse direction.

They allow me a chance to collect myself before I find my seat next to Hailey. Plastering on a smile while keeping good on my promise. Cole doesn’t do the same.

Before the first quarter’s fully over, he’s already fouled the other team three times. Coach pulls him to cool off. You only get five before you fouled out completely and three-quarters of a game still needed to be played.

Boone’s speaking to him, but Cole seems more interested in finding the drink with his number on it. Crudely he spits the contents out, face twisting in disgust as his eyes find mine up in the stands.

My grin as coy as the little wave I give. The bottle of salt I borrowed from the cafeteria in hand. Sucks when people make decisions for us.

Thirty

Rory

“WHY DID YOU THINK this was a good spot to park again?” Eli asks, scratching at his temple.

I roll my eyes, not having time for this when my jeep is literally about to start wearing the mud like a skirt. I already lost one vehicle, two would be making it a habit.

And a running joke with the hellhounds. That added expense something I don’t need.

“Can you help or not?” I whine. Watching as my poor tires lodge themselves deeper beneath the pile of brown sludge like sand to a pit.

I assumed wrong earlier. Apparently, the sprinkler system I thought they had in play doesn’t go far enough down to reach this field. No, this mess is from straight-up ring stain around your toilet nastiness.

Raw. Sewage.

When the school’s sewage backs up, it overflows down here. That’s the main reason, other than the smell, why many of the teams refuse to practice here. Eli informing me of that fun little tidbit after the fact.

His hand flies to his mouth. I assume it’s to cover the scent of earthy mildew, but then he snorts a laugh.

“I just don’t understand how you didn’t know this. I mean, if you think this is bad, imagine during the middle of summer. It’s worse than Finn’s ass after too many hard-boiled eggs.”

My nose scrunches. “I can use my imagination, thanks.” The added visual unhelpful. “The irrelevancy of why or how, also not necessary.”

He arches his head back on a howl of laughter and I shoot him a scowl. This will be the first and last time I park here.

I should’ve known better, eyeing the less than a handful of others around me. I assumed I’d been early to the leftover lot.

Nope, just dumb.

I walk around, inspecting the other side. I didn’t think the stench could get more rotten, but much to my surprise, the smell is, in fact, worse on this side.

“Will you help or not?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Eli responds. “Did you try putting it in drive?”

I shoot him another fleeting look and his arms shoot out in defense. Smart man.

“Hey, I’m only checking. You never know.”

“This isn’t some type of user error”—well, it is, but it isn’t—“yes, I tried driving it out!” I exclaim, frustrated at my own stupidity.

The mud’s too caked by this point after several hours of sitting. Sticking to the rims like wet cement to a dog’s paws.

“Alright, well let’s try it again. Climb in and I’ll see what I can do.”

Nodding, I do the same as last time. Gunning the gas after I start the vehicle and the same thing happens as before. Defeated, I let off the pedal no more out of the situation than before.

If anything, my tires have slipped deeper into the soft earth.

Flinging, the door opens, my head whips around so fast the ends of my hair hit me in the eyes. I push them away as much as I’m dazed while trying not to crack a grin.

Eli taps at my knee, and I lift without restraint.

A snort of a sound escapes before I can help it. “Eli, I’m sorry…”

“Save it,” he grunts. Pulling out the floor mats. A large chunk of mud coats the entire left half of his body.

Another small noise erupts, slipping as it comes out of my mouth. His hair, face, shirt, pants, all one gooey brown mess. Maybe I shouldn’t have closed the door and left the volume up to max on the stereo.

My bad.

He wipes at a large chunk across his eye. Smearing it, it splatters to the grass.

“Next time, don’t floor it, ease into it, yeah?”

I bob my head, diligent to follow along this time, while desperately failing not to laugh some more.

Wordlessly, he leans over my lap instead of climbing out and going to the other side. Careful not to get me or the inside of my jeep dirty. Yanking, the quilted leather liner on the floor of the passenger side comes out easy. Same as the one below my feet.

Turning down the knob on the radio, he shoots me a look over his shoulder before hopping back down.

“It’ll give it some traction,” he says before I can ask. Talking about the mats. “Hope you aren’t too attached to these.”

I’m not.

Widening the door to its full capacity, Eli puts in the extra effort he had with the radio. Leave it open, his actions said.

Got it, mine reciprocated.

He doesn’t seem much up for a chat after that, and I don’t push, watching him through my mirrors as he gets to work.

Placing both mats down, he puts them beneath each tire.

“This time, tap the brakes, and I’ll push, okay?” He yells from outside.

I continue to watch instead of answering.

The red glow of the brake lights perfectly illuminates the definition lines of his face. His arms flex above his head as he puts his weight on the hood, speaking over his shoulder. “Got it?”

I jump into action, giving him a thumbs-up. Flustered with how easily distracted I got watching him and how the damp fabric of his shirt clings to his arms and chest like a second skin.

He gives me the go-ahead as he bends his weight while I tap the gas like he suggested. The jeep revs as the tires spin in place.

It’s not working.

I look back, worried, but Eli is still pushing, so I give it another tap.

This time I hear a small pop followed by another strangled noise from Eli and then the car is moving. It’s free, we did it!

Only after I drive the car to a safe stop along the curb do I park it and turn off the ignition. Jumping out, I charge a muddied Eli into a hug.

“You did it,” I croon, elated.

“Did you ever start using your phone again? If not, then I can use mine to call someone.”

I stop jumping.

“Really, it’s no big deal. I can drive you home and have someone spray it down and clean it off. You shouldn’t have to drive it looking like this.”

Rambling on, misinterpreting why I stopped.

The current state of my car irrelevant. My movements cut short because of how he said it, not because of what he said.

This is why Eli had been such a good friend to me years ago. He doesn’t judge me for choosing to not use my phone, instead treating it like it’s no big deal.

Never making me feel weird.

Not once has he ever made me think I should be ashamed or feel embarrassed. Simply accepting my choices for what they are and navigating around them. So different than how Cole usually handles things.

“I’ll call my dad,” he decides. Somehow knowing I need the space as he puts the phone to his ear and walks off.

I withdraw further into myself.

His smirk as confusing as it is thoughtful when he paces, jogging back over to me when he’s done.

“He’ll be here in fifteen, but we can head out whenever you’re ready.” A tenderness there in his eyes I’d never taken the time to notice before.

Eli’s still talking, but I’m not registering what he’s saying anymore. More focused on the way his lips move, curving around each syllable.

My throat dries.

Why haven’t I noticed this before?

He coughs, shifting from one foot to the other and I blink. How long ago did he stop talking?

A muscle in his eye jumps. “That work for you?”

“Hmm, yeah, sure,” I agree, having no idea. Confused by my thoughts.

I’ve never thought of Eli as more than a friend. The idea of thinking something else about him dizzying.

I thought I’d been slick, covering my emotions until he closes the passenger side door after holding it open for me to climb in. A flint of almost sadness flickers across his face before it slams shut.

Am I the one who’s missed something?

Thirty-One

Rory

THE NEXT FEW WEEKS are a dull momentum of repetition. A continuum of routine and regularity.

Wake up, have breakfast, go to school, and then do one of three things. Work, basketball games, or in today’s case, a hellhounds practice since I don’t work.

Cole and I haven’t spent a moment alone since that day in the locker room. Not necessarily because we’ve been avoiding the other, more scheduling.

The same with Eli since the whole car thing. Finn is actually the one who I’ve seen the most since we live together, passing each other on our ways out the door.

Interactions are nothing more than short head nods and brief glances with all the boys. Those peeks always seem to linger longer anytime they catch with Cole’s though. At school or Hardin, anytime we sense the other.

All of us are busy, wrapped up in our own tasks.

Iceman hasn’t pulled any stunts since I reciprocated his little water girl stunt. Putting salt in his bottle. I’ve noticed he’s been at Hardin more, but I’m positive that has more to do with his father’s demands over anything.

On the days I don’t come to their practices, I go to work. Cole has practice every day after school and then will head over to Hardin after that.

I don’t know when he finds time to sleep. The guy is like a machine.

The one thing I haven’t gotten around to asking is if he’s figured out why Lorna was at his house on my birthday. Maybe it’s nothing but something inside tells me that’s a lie.

Cole hates his father, so if he’s spending this much time with him, he’s either learning things, or he’s using it as a distraction. A diversion from me, my gut questions more nights than not.

Although we both work at Hardin, mostly we are on different floors. I admit I like this job more than I initially thought I would. The mail room a perfect all-consuming diversion. For both of us.

The dark-ringed circles under his eyes are his giveaway. His body continuing to push through the exhaustion day after day. The wear affects him physically, but mentally I know Iceman’s too hardheaded to ever settle.

The lack of sleep is making him moodier than usual. Snapping off more regularly at students in the halls for simply existing. That’s saying a lot because if we’re betting on the most irritable human alive, mine would go to Madison.

“Pick up your feet. You had a dislocated shoulder and broken arm, not legs,” Cole seethes. His voice echoing around the now quiet gymnasium.

The guy says something, but I can’t hear it because he uses a normal indoor voice when answering. I do know though, that’s the guy Finn’s been subbing for. Today is his first full day back from injury.

Coach Boone blows his whistle. “Cool it, Kellet. I’m the coach, remember?”

I could laugh, as if he needs the reminder.

Cole glares, eyes narrowing before he pulls his attention back to the team, ready to restart the play.

A shiver sweeps down my skin. The pitiless tension radiating off him I can feel from all the way up here. I can only imagine what it’s like down on the court.

Part of me wishes Hailey could’ve been here today. She would’ve eaten this up like a tub of ice cream after a breakup. She met up with her mom to go shopping instead. I’d been invited but politely declined as soon as I heard the word shoes.

“Hey, wait up,” Eli hollers as I round the bleachers.

“What’s up?” I question, jingling the key ring around my fingers, ready to head home.

Practice is over and a blanket, a book, and my conservatory sound like the perfect way to end the evening. The hellhounds usually stay for another thirty minutes to an hour in the weight room conditioning, but I almost never stick around for that.

They aren’t undefeated thus far from luck.

“Leaving so soon?”

I shrug. He knows this isn’t abnormal.

Eli somehow senses something is off. His voice lowers in concern, stepping forward. “You feeling okay?”

I explain that I feel fine, just sluggish. Nothing out of the ordinary as of recent. Today is just one of those meh days.

I’d made the mistake earlier this morning of letting my mind wander in class instead of focusing on what was being taught. Usually, that helps, and it had some, but then it was game over when I saw him.

A tremor of something bloomed. Shooting its way down to my toes the moment my silvers connected with his sharp blues in our one shared class.

I’m not sure why I did it, but I gave him a small smile before finding my seat instead of ignoring his presence in the back like usual. That night in the locker room rushed through my mind like a film strip a second before I’d made the decision.

I don’t like when you ignore me.

Not much surprises Cole Kellet but that one little gesture had. I know because one of his dark eyebrows lifted a fraction of a centimeter before I turned back around. Finding my seat at the front and refusing to turn the rest of the class.

After that, it’s been game over, my thoughts running wild ever since.

“You sure you’re alright?”

Eli’s words drag me out of my mind. That yearning pull for Cole spirals in my stomach like a knot. Untangling itself as soon as Eli opened his mouth.

The misery of it all would be humorous if it wasn’t my life.

One boy putting the tangled coils there, the other undoing them.

I push, you pull. You run; I chase. You hurt; I bleed. That’s what we do, who we are.

My chest does that thing again where it misses its beat because I believed Cole when he’d said that. How can I not when he breathed them into me like air to my lungs?

At one time, we could have been beautiful, now, I’m unsure. Overfilled as I am starved in the same gasp. I’m like a breeze; I have no real direction and yet I find a way to keep moving.

“I got you something.”

I’m doing it again, letting Iceman distract me. I need to focus.

Blinking away Cole, I do just that, giving Eli my full attention.

He holds up a pointed finger on either hand. “Don’t move. Let me grab it from my bag real quick.” Grinning before he scurries away.

I nibble on my bottom lip, but he doesn’t make me wait long, coming back with a small rectangular white box under his arm.

His smile as impish as it is demure when he hands it over.

My stomach plummets. “You got me a phone?”

He knows I have one…

“Before you get upset.” He taps at the lid. I haven’t looked inside. “It’s completely new. The upgraded model, new number, the works. It’s like a complete restart.”

He folds his hands into his pockets, tucking in his shoulders, assessing my reaction.

A fresh start?

My brows furrow. “Eli, I—”

“—It’s only a phone, Rory. Use it, don’t, that’s your choice, but now you’ll know this is at least an option.”

Why do I get the feeling what he’s just said carries double meaning?

My mouth parts, words at the ready.

“Don’t overthink it,” he rushes out, sensing my unease.

I suck in a gust of air.

Don’t overthink it. The exact words Cole has told me what feels like dozens of times. At his house, on a notecard inside the jeep, endlessly, the words echo in his smug tone. Ringing as they buzz in my mind.

My hold tightens around the box. Is that what I’m doing now?

I exhale past the anxiety. “Thank you. This is thoughtful.” Fluttering my lashes with all the relief I don’t feel inside.

Gauging my reaction, his stare stays pensive. The edges of my mouth hook higher. The confidence I don’t have pours into every crevice of my deceitful face.

My shoulders want to drop with relief, but I refuse to let them when his gaze finally does soften. Refusing to give in to the lie.

He bought it.

That familiar sense of easiness that I can only ever associate with Eli settles in.

His feet shift. “I—uh, thought I’d give you that before you head out.”

I thank him again before he disappears off to the weight room.

Only after he’s gone do I drop the facade. The box no bigger than the size of a dollar bill width and lengthwise. About an inch in height and it feels like a fifty-pound brick in my palm.

It should be telling of how many wires are loose inside my head if a gift given only out of consideration screws me up this bad.

“Little early for Christmas.”

The comment as mocking as it is belittling.

My eyes close on their own accord. Cole’s presence is as consuming as his silence swaggered steps when he’d approached.

When I open them again, his oversized frame is within inches of my own. He’s comfortable being this close, I’m not.

At least he isn’t looking at me directly, but down at what’s in my hands instead.

“Don’t you think?” Eyes slanting as he speaks.

I feel him everywhere, his shadow my own.

Physically we’re close, yet distance-wise we’re miles from where we’d been before. The rubble we’d grown from was destroyed in a single confession.

The memory pinches at my throat and tugs at my heartstrings.

“I think it’s none of your business,” I say with too much resilience. My lips thinning around my teeth.

Cole reaches for me, but I misinterpret it after the fact. Shaking him off when he’d really been going for the box. Either way, it doesn’t matter now, I’m already walking away.

“What is that?” A low rumble thunders over my shoulder. “What did Eli give you?”

The question as rhetorical as this conversation. I know he’s seen the picture of the phone on the cover. Cole notices everything.

“Why is he giving you that? What happened to your old one?”

I keep moving, his feet hot on my heels.

“Why is he giving you gifts, Rory?” He demands. I have a way of pushing Iceman’s patience.

“The same reason you gave me a car. For convenience.”

I don’t have to turn around to know he doesn’t like my answer. I knew he wouldn’t, which is why I said it.

Several tense seconds tick by. “That the same excuse you told yourself when you tracked him down? Asked him to help dislodge your car too? The car I bought you.”

That last comment wasn’t necessary. That dig to show his hierarchy and nothing else.

“Spying on me, Iceman?” I ask, steadying my pace.

Where is the damn exit in this place? I know there are stairs around here, taking this way often. Suddenly they seem endless in their appearance.

Grunting, he tries pulling at my elbow. The force of his grip causes me to gyrate into him.

I blink up at him, startled by the aggravation swirling inside the dark circles of his pupils. Cole is more than angry he’s straight-up pissed.

The hairs on the back of my neck stand with attention.

“You already know the answer to that.” His eyes glacial. “Now I’m going to ask again and this time you’re going to drop the sarcasm, Princess.”

The intensity in his stare causes my head to spin.

“Now.” A muscle in his cheek jumps. “Why is he giving you gifts?”

I gulp.

The deep lines in his forehead pinch closer together before loosening. A piece of paper I hadn’t known was there flying from underneath the box when my arm jerks.

Both our heads snap down. Following it before the weight of Cole’s shoe crushes it underneath his foot.

I yelp out a squeak of noise as he grinds it underneath his heel with lethal clarity. Letting go, he bends down to pick it up. Crumbling it into a tiny ball and flicking it over the railing, never breaking eye contact.

That once small tic in his jaw pulsates, jumping as it thunders with new life.

Throwing my gut into the metal railing, I watch as the tiny ball rotates in slow motion down two whole flights. Only to be swept up by a roaming janitor’s broom seconds later.

“I never got to read that,” I whine, whipping back around.

The whites of his eyes glow with newfound fury. Mine match with the same heat, knowing I’ll never get to read what was written on the paper.

“I’m going to ask one more time.” Cole’s tone low but supreme. “Why is he giving you a phone?”

My hands widen, spanning out on either side as I slide them across the stainless steel bar. The imaginary lasers I’m shooting in his direction do nothing. If anything, he’s firing the same ones right back.

“Answer me.” Words as patronizing as they are soft.

My lids hood over. What others do for me is none of your business.

The line that is his mouth lifts on the left side like he can read my thoughts. It only makes me that much more angry. He knows me too well.

His chin lifts. “You aren’t allowed gifts from him.”

I can literally feel the nerves in my eyes as they pulsate, widening with shock. How dare he…

“You had no problem when I accepted the car you gave me,” I remind him.

“That is completely different.”

“How so?” I challenge. Over this controlling alpha bullshit. “This wouldn’t be an issue if it was from Finn.”

We both know this is true, so I don’t bother checking to confirm.

“Eli’s my friend, same as he’s yours,” I defend because this shouldn’t be an issue. Eli’s gift had been thoughtful, nice even. Cole is overreacting.

A long pause and then, “that’s not why he did it.”

The words grate across his tongue like sandpaper. Slow but deliberate.

“You don’t know him as I do. You think you do because of your history when we were children, but you haven’t known him like I have since we were twelve.”

“And whose fault is that?” I fire off.

My blood sours.

“You’re wrong, by the way.” Eli is the only person who has never intentionally wronged me.

He smirks at my comment. The expression holds knowing confidence that I’m incorrect.

The notion sets me off like a rocket to the moon. Cole wants to know the truth, fine. Here’s the fucking truth.

“The reason Eli gave me this is because of you,” I start. He stays unmoving, clinging to every word. “I haven’t touched the other one since I came back—”

“—That was months ago.”

“—The truth is, I’m afraid to look at it,” carrying on like he didn’t interrupt me. “Scared to turn it back on and see all the hurtful things that could or couldn’t be there. Eli understood this, which is why he gave me a new one today. A fresh start.”

Cole mulls that over.

Grabbing at my chest, it jackhammers as I step back. The strained force of my raw emotion pushing me backward.

“I couldn’t take any more pain,” I admit, and it might sound selfish, but it’s the truth. “I have no clue if you texted me or called or any of that, but it’s because of you.” Always Iceman. “The unknown less scary than what I know you are capable of.”

Cole’s my cause as much as he is my effect. Every single reaction I have is because of him.

He draws in his lower lip, skin paling into a ghostly sheen of white by the time I finish. I have never seen him so aghast. So caught off guard.

“You honestly think I would do that?” Despair coats his every word.

I don’t need to answer because he’s already heard the truth. If that isn’t enough, I know he can see it on my face. My gesture subtle, but there.

Yes.

The color comes back alive across his skin. I watch in amazement as his demeanor one-eighties. Those once blazed eyes, uncloud. A shadow crosses over them as they clear.

His shoulders roll tight as he cranes his neck side to side. The veins along his arms flex, winding their way down to the joints popping his knuckles. Every single move causes a crack of something into its rightful place.

Cole’s discomfort washes away into an almost robotic structure, like he isn’t human. I have no idea what any of it means, but something’s changed inside his mind.

He’s watching me down the length of his nose and my still fried nerves can’t handle the intensity. I step back, miscalculating after it’s too late.

My sweaty, too damp hands reach out but slide off the railing. Foot following in a similar reaction off the top of the landing. My arms flail, and blindly I plunge back into the open air.

The steps descend at my back, eerily, they wait to catch me as I fly…

Thirty-Two

Rory

I’M FALLING AND THEN I’m not.

A whir of shocked air rushes out of my lungs as I’m jolted to a halt. Abruptly I’m stopped. My hair loosely smacks into the middle of my arched back, hovering in open limbo.

Wide-eyed and breathless, I chance a glance behind me but regret it instantly.

Turning back, I realize Cole has me locked in his overly strong grasp. If he’s straining, it doesn’t reflect in his posture. Grip firm, focused, as I stand stock-still. Frozen in place because of him.

I barely have time to make a full swallow before I’m roughly pulled back into the safety that is solid ground. Cole’s fingers bury themselves around the nape of my neck. Squeezing there, like I’m the most precious thing in the world.

Burrowing myself into his chest, he pulls us closer than we already are. Fingers gliding as they start to stroke through my hair.

The truth of what could have happened settles in the longer I feel his heart pound against my own. My cheek hollows into the crook of his neck, shielding my face. Denying that I’m almost certain that his heart is thrumming faster than my own.

I could have fallen down not one but two flights of stairs if he hadn’t reached out, grabbing hold like he did.

I draw out a strangled noise. I’m going to be okay.

He continues to stroke my hair in that soothing measure. His touch more calming than I expect. Somehow him knowing exactly what I need.

His hold on me stays like that, never loosening.

I choke down another gulp. Everything. It all happened so quickly. One second my feet are on the ground, the next they aren’t, then they are again. My life had flashed before my eyes. Everything happening in less than a minute, but in those few seconds, time slowed. Or is it sped up?

The unknown an eternity.

As my adrenaline settles—no longer spiking off the charts—and I can tell Iceman takes a much-needed full breath, do I pull back.

Cautiously, I peek up through my lashes. “That was…”

I don’t finish, unsure how to when my lungs go dry. My voice feels like it’s finished plummeting down to the bottom of the stairs. The same spot I should have been…

…I’m not though.

Cole and his crazy, stupid reaction time, my thanks for that.

I move with the intention of breaking apart, but he doesn’t let me go and a bigger part of me likes that. I hadn’t wanted to, but it seemed like the right move.

I thought it was the correct choice, but Cole’s overly concerned eyes tell me otherwise.

I wince and the regard in them clouds further. The storm intensifies as I look down. A pain shoots its way up my calf as I put more pressure on my ankle.

Hissing past my teeth, the ligament is already blueish and swelled. Somehow after everything, I must have twisted it.

The excitement of it all disruptive to the pain until the adrenaline fades. The soreness replaces the discomfort.

Cole’s nostrils flare. The heat of his worry hits me in the face. Nurture shifting back into a fierce protectiveness. The speed at which he operates alarming as I’m once again losing the traction of my footing.

This time I’m picked up. Bending his knees, he hooks the back of mine under one arm, the other around the small of my back. Cradling me.

My arms wrap around his neck as he carries me down the steps, outside, and into his Ferrari.

“You know I could’ve walked,” I mutter as he opens the door with one arm while holding me in the other.

The comment, not to anyone’s surprise, goes unanswered.

I cross my arms in a huff as he sets me down. Taking the extra time to buckle me in like it’s my arms that aren’t working and not one foot.

The gentleness of his touch as delicate as if I were a piece of fine china. I want to be upset at his insistence but can’t find the nerve. Each new touch ignites a flutter with the heat of a dozen suns in my belly. That alone outweighs my fury.

Who knew Cole could be this gentle?

“This isn’t the way to the Caspers’,” I point out when he misses the exit.

“I know.”

“Where are we going?”

This turn of events is surprising enough for one day as is. I don’t need another.

He sighs his annoyance, and it’s too attractive. I’d been in his car dozens of times, but now it feels smaller.

“Are you going to tell me?” I ask, more desperate than before.

“If you must know, I’m going to grab us some food. Your ankle doesn’t look broken, just sprained, so it should be okay a little longer.”

The car shrinks again. He said us, not him.

He turns on his blinker, not looking my way once. “Besides, I’m starving.”

I busy myself trying to examine my ankle but it’s hard to do in such a confined space. Before I know it, we’re back at the mansion and once again, I’m lifted.

Tucked in one arm while he uses the other to hold the bag of food. Cradling everything up to my room.

Setting me down on the bed, he sets the brown paper bag on the side table and asks where the first aid kit is. Pointing, I tell him it’s under the sink in my bathroom.

“Lift,” he commands. Opening the box and tapping on my heel so he can place two pillows underneath to examine further after coming back.

My insides splinter for completely different reasons now.

Scooting over, I tell myself it’s to give him more room on the bed to sit, but it’s really because I’m overwhelmed. His actions—all of them—from the time the incident happened to now are something I’ve never seen in him.

They speak volumes to what his words never can.

“You know,” he starts. Rotating my foot slightly to wrap it after pulling off my sock and shoe. I bite back my wince. “It’s a good thing you have never been one of those girls at school who struts around in six-inch Satan forks.”

He cringes and I bite my tongue. Our actions are for two completely different reasons.

“This could have been a lot worse for you if you did wear them.”

The pain worsens at the base of my heal as he moves it again before setting it down, finishing. I choke down my sigh of relief.

“Not a fan of heels, Kellet?” I ask, examining his work after he’s done.

When he doesn’t respond right away, I lift my chin. The twisted stutter of his dislike almost makes me laugh.

Almost.

“I wouldn’t enjoy wearing them and I understand why you don’t,” he notes almost thoughtfully. Pulling off the items of my other foot to match the wrapped one.

Quietly I watch him work. Taking the same care he had with my injured one, pulling off the worn Chuck. The tranquility of watching his focus as mesmerizing as his care in bandaging me up.

The lines around his eyes crinkle as they go back to the other foot. My wrapped one. “It’s going to be a little tender for the next few days, but I was right. It’s not broken.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“You were doing your best the entire time I wrapped it to not wince.” He doesn’t miss his chance to give me his glare of disapproval. I roll my eyes in response. “If it were broken, you most likely would’ve lost all feeling. The numbness outweighing anything else.”

He picks up my foot and moves it how he wants. This time I do flinch, and he shoots me a told-you-so look before focusing back down.

“This spot is going to be the worst,” he notes. Cool fingers grazing the black-and-blue spot that’s now covered. “Give it a couple of days though. No added pressure.”

His hand is still on my foot as I go to move it, uncaring if it hurts. He’s being far too nice and it’s unsettling. The touch of his skin on my own isn’t helping either.

Cole’s hold is firm, placing it back on the pillow. “You need to keep it elevated,” he warns.

I put a hand over my eyes, leaning back. It’s all far too… intimate.

The bed dips, and I hear a paper bag opening but I don’t move my arm until the smell of fried food wafts in my nostrils. My stomach hums, gurgling its approval.

He balks between a mouthful of his burger and fries, nodding down at mine. He’d taken the extra effort to unwrap it and set it beside me.

Cole pretends to busy himself with the TV remote, but I catch the way his lip quirks when I lift the bun, checking. No onion, extra pickles.

I don’t know how he knows this, but he does.

I bite into the melty cheese and gooey deliciousness, pretending I’m indifferent. I’m not, though, that one extra gesture more impactful than him intentionally choosing to pick up my favorite meal.

We eat in silence. I thought by him turning on the TV he’d made himself too comfortable. Turns out that’s just the start.

Helping himself after we’re done, he throws away our trash in the bathroom before going to my closet. Coming back out with several blankets. Neatly unfolding them before he lays them down as a makeshift bed on the floor.

I could choke on my own spit if I had any left.

“Uh, what are you doing?”

Kissing my temple as his answer, he reaches over me and grabs for the pillow on the far side of my bed.

“You can’t stay here,” I urge, watching as he fluffs it before settling in on the floor. “What about my jeep?”

“Leave it,” he notes. Flicking through show choices again.

“How will I get to school? Work?”

“I’ll take you.”

“You can’t.”

“Why not?” Deciding, he picks out something I haven’t started yet, but I’ve been wanting to. How does he do that?

Picking this show and the burger. It can’t be a coincidence. He’s a mind reader, that’s the only explanation I have.

I try a new tactic. “Abram won’t approve.”

This has him sitting up. We both know Abram would never take the time. I can count the number of times he’s been to this room and side of the house.

Also, Cole basically grew up here, so if, and that’s a hard if, Abram does care to notice, he’s likely to assume he’s staying with Finn.

I don’t care! I’m pulling at strings hoping to find dynamite by this point. He can’t stay, he’s already done too much.

Cole tilts his head. “Are you blushing?”

More heat rises to my face. He knows I am, but he wouldn’t be Iceman if he missed an opportunity to point it out.

I flick at a nonexistent piece of lent on my comforter. My face scorches in mortification. When have I started getting embarrassed around Cole Kellet?

His laughter is silent as he falls back into his spot, unpausing the show.

“Because it’s… you can’t.” My energy coming from nothing. “You aren’t staying here tonight.”

I’m a frustrated, flustered mess. He’s never stayed the night before, even when we were together, and it most definitely isn’t happening tonight.

It just… he’s not… it can’t happen…

He throws a muscled arm behind his head, looking up at me as I lean over, gripping the mattress, trying to find stability from somewhere. It’s obvious it’s not happening with his actions.

“You’re cute when you’re frustrated.”

“Cole,” I warn.

“You told me Eli and you are just friends, right?” I scowl, unsure of where he’s going with this. “I can be that too.”

Running an annoyed hand down his face, he pauses the show again. The sound as long as it is nondubious.

“Friends look after each other, so that’s what I’m doing. I’m making sure you’re okay.”

“You gave me a ride, bought me dinner, and wrapped up my foot.” I point out needing that to be enough.

He pushes play, ignoring the scathing look I’m shooting at the side of his head.

I cross my arms, giving up as I fall into the headboard. This is going to be the longest night ever.

Thirty-Three

Rory

THE NEXT MORNING, I wake up to an empty room. Cole’s gone.

My pillow and the blankets are folded and tucked neatly on the edge of the floor beside my bed.

It isn’t until after I put everything back, shower, and rewrap my ankle—albeit not as well as Cole—that I notice it. The box Eli had given me yesterday sitting on top of my dresser. Only the phone isn’t inside anymore.

I tap at the screen, and it lights up.

After not using one for an extended period, it’s not as strange as I expect to hold one in my hand again. Scanning, I scroll with familiar ease like no time has passed.

Hailey is going to be pumped. I pull up my contacts, ready to add her number, when I find she’s already added. Same as everyone else.

My finger stalls, hovering over Cole’s name, and as if thinking about the devil, he appears. I smirk, not because he’s texted me but because he’s kept his name the same.

Ice Man: Change my name to Kellet and I swear on every pair of denim you own I will break this into a million pieces.

I know Cole isn’t happy about yesterday. Eli giving me this, but it’s a step. He’s trying. Setting up my phone for me, the action is almost considerate… for him.

Last night Cole had said we’re friends and I think I’m okay with that. I type back a response. Something a friend would say.

“What’s got you all googly-eyed?” Finn asks through a mouth of toothpaste.

I catch my reflection in the mirror and he’s right. My skin looks brighter, with a healthy glow to my cheeks. Why am I grinning?

My expression plummets under Finn’s scrutinizing gaze. “Finish brushing your teeth before you get toothpaste all over my floor.”

He walks into my bathroom, spits in the sink and comes back out, waving his brush around. “No, that’s not it.” Looking at me all questioningly. “I know you like seeing me every morning, lil sis, but this is something else.”

“I don’t like you using my bathroom when you have one in your room.” I fire off. “That it?” I question sarcastically.

“Nope, not that either. Something else has got you all chipper.” His face turns conniving.

I don’t like it. It’s his inquiring look.

“Wouldn’t have to do with the awfully familiar car I saw parked out front late last night when I pulled in, would it?”

“I dunno, why were you out so late?” I ask, turning the tables back on him. “Or who were you seeing, I guess I should say.”

“Oh no,” he taunts. “We aren’t going there. This is about you and why one of my best friends stayed here while I was out.”

I roll my eyes but I’m happy to see that the hellhounds seem to be getting back to normal. Besides, Cole’s been here plenty of times to see me without him. Finn knows this. He’s never spent the night like last night, but he’s been here, nonetheless.

“So, if I were to text Hailey right now, she wouldn’t tell me she’s been with you?” I arch a brow, lifting my new phone and his eyes stretch.

I have no clue if it’s true, but it’s the only leverage I have. So, I use it to my full advantage.

Reaching, he shoves the toothbrush into the side of his mouth. Taking the phone from my hand. “Wow. Welcome back to the twenty-first century,” he mumbles.

Our conversation/interrogation about why Cole had been staying here the night before forgotten. For the moment, at least.

I release a silent sigh of relief while he’s distracted.

He whistles. “’Bout time, lil sis. I thought you’d gone prairie style on us.”

I shake my head with a chuckle, stealing it back, Finn’s something else.

He goes back to his room to finish getting ready. This morning is a rarity as of late. He didn’t have to go in early, before school, so he’d slept in.

“Hey, can you give me a ride today? I left my car at school yesterday.” I holler across the hall, shoving my folder with my homework in my bag.

Leaving our rooms at the same time, he’s doing the same thing I am, except with zero care. The thin pieces of paper crinkle as they get shoved between a notebook and a textbook.

“Why’d you leave your car at school?” He asks, shaking his book bag so the items cram further, fitting in the already stuffed bag.

“Because of this,” I say, pulling at my sock so he can see the gauze underneath.

Finn’s eyes go wide for the second time within the hour.

The swelling not as bad this morning after I’d kept it elevated all night like Cole had suggested. Also, the two ibuprofens helped a lot.

It still hurts when I put all my weight on it, but I want to go to class today and see how it feels. I shouldn’t be on it too much anyway, mostly just between classes. Other than that, I’ll be sitting.

The broadness of his eyes narrow to slits by the time I right myself.

“I’m going to kill him.”

Thirty-Four

Rory

“YOU,” FINN ROARS. EYES flaring as his fingers snap, charging down the front steps of the house. “I have no idea what you did or how she got like this, but you’re dead. Here me? Dead.”

Cole stands there, unfazed. Looking far too attractive in his navy slacks and collared, white shirt with the sleeves rolled. His dark hair tousled like he’d run his fingers through it and called it good.

I want to run my fingers through it—wait, what?

His car is running, and he has a tray of coffees in one hand and a bag of something that smells heavenly in the other.

“What are you doing here?” I question after he hands both Finn and me a cup.

Finn takes the bag without acknowledgment. Grabbing at a pastry, he devours the entire thing in three large sugary bites.

My eyes shine with quiet laughter, watching him inhale another cinnamon roll. It seems to settle or distract him for the moment. Presumably both.

Cole catches it before I try and conceal it behind my cup. A flutter hits my chest at the secret little wink he shoots me. Getting Finn food had been a good call in foresight. Not once have I ever seen him shy away from it.

“You’re still dead, but only after I finish,” Finn says through a mouthful, and this time I do bust out a laugh. I can’t help it. Everyone knows he’s putting on a front, but it won’t amount to anything now that his hunger’s pacified.

“Alright,” I reply with a chuckle. “Whatever you say.”

“I told you I’d take you to school,” Cole says, answering my question from earlier.

In my peripherals, I catch how Finn’s chewing slows, but I don’t turn my head. I can’t, stuck in my surprise. He’d been serious.

“Is that okay with you?” Cole asks when I don’t respond immediately.

My chest heaves. Those icicle eyes defrost slightly as I force my face to stay stoic.

An awkwardness hangs in the air, but it’s because of me. I just… Cole never asks. Ever. He takes ruthlessly, without permission.

I can feel Finn studying me, actually, both of them are, but I’m still trying to figure out what this means.

“You want to take me to school?” I need to clarify.

“That’s what I said, didn’t I? What a friend would do.”

I hear Finn snort beside me and Cole’s head snaps, glaring before coming back to me.

I swallow my emotions. Is that okay with me? I’m unsure but I find myself nodding anyway.

“Want to join?” Cole asks Finn as I get ready to climb in.

My brows pinch, yet again not expecting this from Cole. I assumed he’d want it to be only us. Is he trying to make this easier for me, or is this him being genuine? I can’t decide.

Finn’s face shifts from me to Cole and back again. His expression is as pensive as I feel. “Nah,” he decides eventually. “I can manage on my own. Besides, I have the better car,” he throws over his shoulder, completely serious.

“A matter of opinion,” Cole shouts back. “About the car and the girl.” Saying the last part only loud enough for me before closing my door.

Have his irises always sparkled like this?

The drive to school isn’t as uncomfortable as yesterday. In fact, by the time we reach KPA, I don’t automatically want to charge from the car.

Mainly we chat about my ankle and Cole gives me some more tips on how to help it recover faster. Time seems to speed by and then we go our separate ways.

No added pressure, aggression, nothing. He heads to the gym, and I go to the main building and that’s that.

“Thought you could use these,” Finn mentions, appearing beside our lockers. “It’s not ibuprofen but it should help get you through the day.”

He pulls the pill bottle from his bag, and I uncap it, pouring a few in my hand.

“Something wrong?”

“No, uh, my mom used to take something similar.” She was addicted.

“Your mom took pain meds?”

Only every day of her life.

“I saw I had a few left over in my other locker down in the weight room. They’re from a minor injury last year,” he lifts a shoulder. “Thought they might help.”

“Thank you, that’s sweet.”

I’d forgotten to take the ones left out for me after the phone debacle this morning. These will be a lifesaver.

He pushes off his locker. “You sure?”

My hand closes around the circular white pills before I can overthink it. My facial expression’s overexaggerated as I swallow them down with the last of my coffee.

You aren’t her. Lillian had an addiction; you’ll be okay.

You’re fine.

“I’m fine.” Panic grips my throat as I feel them slide down. “Really. I appreciate the thought,” I force out past my own reservations.

“You never talk about her.”

“About my mother?”

“Yeah,” he says, pressing his back to the metal.

What’s there to say? She was a depressed addict who couldn’t move on from the past. Blaming me for her and Abram’s demise since my birth.

Looking back with clearer eyes, I wonder now if she neglected me because I was a reminder of what she’d lost. Sure, I don’t look like Abram, but I’m still carrying half his DNA in my veins.

“Man, your mom hated me. I could tell as soon as she saw me that I was in trouble.” He snorts at the memory. “I guess it’s fair because Lorna hasn’t always been your biggest fan either…”

“You met my mom?”

This is news to me.

“Don’t you remember? We met that one time when we were younger.”

None of this makes sense. “That summer I stayed when I was twelve?”

“No, before that.”

Finn is right, I’d taken that trip alone. Lillian refused to leave the house. Someone else picked me up in a car and took me to the airport.

I’d made the entire journey alone.

“What are you talking about?”

Did I sound panicked? I feel like I’m panicking. My mind is spinning with new questions to answers I thought I had. Most importantly, why does Finn seem to remember things I don’t?

The first time we’d met, and I realized I had a sibling, had been that summer. That’s what I’d always thought, but now I’m not so sure?

“How long have you known?” I swallow on a pause. “About me, I mean?”

He rotates his body and head to the side, shouldering them both to his locker.

“I’ve known about you for a long time, as far back as I can remember honestly. Dad liked to try and bring you up, but then mom would get mad and then they’d end up in a big fight.”

“I had no idea,” I breathe.

Abram tried to bring me up. That tidbit of knowledge a revelation. Why would someone who cares so little for me try so hard to include me even if I wasn’t there?

What am I missing? And more importantly, what aren’t I remembering?

“Look, I need to dip,” he rushes out suddenly. Eyes catching something over my head. His spine straightens to an iron rod pushing from his earlier relaxed form. “Hope the pills help.”

I slam my locker with a grunt.

“Dang, what’d that locker ever do to you?” Hailey whistles, coming up beside me. “Must have been something bad if you're throwing things.”

“I didn’t throw anything.”

She mulls that over for a second. “Not this time, but I’ll know better for the future.” Hailey jokes.

“Why does everything have to be so confusing?”

Hailey’s lids lower, briefly flicking down the side hall Finn just wandered to. Her tainted mood evaporated in an instant.

Hooking her arm through mine, we make our way in the opposite direction. Back to the boisterous friend I know and love.

“You’re asking the wrong person, girlfriend.”

Thirty-Five

Cole

MY PHONE LIGHTS UP again, same as it has been since yesterday after I didn’t show up at Hardin. I slide it into my pocket, same as I have every other time Silas’s texted since then.

If Rory is willing to give this friendship thing a try, then I want as much time as I can get uninterrupted.

A pebble isn’t as heavy as a boulder, but it can still make a dent.

Progress is all I’m asking for.

Rolling my neck, I try shrugging out my shoulders as I force out some of the knots. Sleeping on the floor hadn’t been the most comfortable, but there wasn’t a chance in hell I was leaving last night.

Not that I’ve been getting much sleep anyway, so it doesn’t matter.

Dropping my things, I start to strip right in front of my boys. I have no reason to be bashful. The length and size of my dick well above average.

My mouth lifts into a secret grin, Rory’s never complained.

Having the same clothes as yesterday will have to do, but I need the shower.

Finn levels me with a stare, the matching one Eli gives telling me he’s been updated on Rory’s ankle. Him leaving and arriving to school before us.

I finish grabbing my shampoo and the rest of my things, wrapping a towel around my waist. If they want to bring it up, fine. I’d tell them what happened, but I’m not about to be their bitch.

I take my time in the shower. Enjoying the solitude that comes with an empty locker room.

I know I’m going to be late. I might even miss all first period but that’s one perk that comes with the school being named after your family. No one questions anything when I’m around.

And if they do, well, then they get to deal with the repercussions.

After I climb out, I change back into the uniform I had on when I picked Rory up and check my phone. Not surprised to see another three messages from my father.

I check the time, giving him a response before the guy has a heart attack, dies, and finds a way to indite me for murder from beyond the grave.

Six school hours and a two-and-a-half-hour practice later, I finally give him what he wants.

Me.

Rubbing my eyes, I watch out the windows from the top floor of Hardin. The moon hidden tonight behind a line of lifeless clouds. Stars typically aren’t visible downtown from all the lights, tonight no exception.

Leaning, I reread the same files Silas had given me earlier. He assumed they’d take me hours to go over, but they only took about thirty minutes. I don’t tell him this, instead using the extra time to observe him while he thinks I’m busy.

A hippo can handle the work he normally gives me, it’s never anything of real substance. My father trusted only himself for serious topics.

The last few days have been different though. Either he’s starting to trust me—unlikely—or something’s happened. Whatever it is, it’s major enough that he’s taking the time to give me things with meat on the bone. Or toss over the scraps, at least.

Tonight, it’s a handful of bank receipts. All addressed singly under his name at Hardin. My task has been to go over the stack and look for adjustments that might have been made. Money taken out, moved.

There are none.

He highlights something. The marker scrapes across the top of another document with angered precision.

That vein on his forehead has been a permanent fixture on his head since the day I was born. Silas isn’t known as the type of guy to ever relax, but tonight I notice how it pulsates with extra zest.

“Are you almost done?”

“If you are. Finally willing to kick the bucket, old man?” I jab, disguising my hopefulness with a sneer.

The glow from the light on his desk casts him in an awkward shadow. The dark lines adding more drama to his already hollow features. Highlighting the green flecks in his hazel eyes.

Silas doesn’t try and hide his disdain for me. Around the public he might be a tablespoon more hospitable but not when we’re alone.

Privately is when he prefers to unleash his true charisma.

“I can pull out my phone and start a timer if you want to get a head start on holding your breath.”

“Hilarious,”—he doesn’t crack a smile—“maybe if you spent less time spitting out nonsense like a fool and more time focusing, you’d be done faster.”

I’m not joking.

I fling the papers at him, rising from my chair. “These were finished hours ago. A second grader can handle the stuff you give me.”

That vein jumps. “This is why you will never amount to anything. You see time and you waste it instead of using it to your every advantage.”

He’s wrong, but I don’t bother wasting the air from my lungs to explain it to him.

“Guess I just wanted the extra time to admire your beauty,” I deadpan.

“I’m not surprised,” he says, cutting off his own sentence with disinterest. Straightening out the papers I tossed over instead.

I shouldn’t take the bait; I know he’s goading me. A similar tactic he’s been famous for using on my mother when she was alive.

Call me a fish because I’m about to get suckered.

“How can you not be?”

“You don’t have it in you to be what this company expects from us. You’ve never had the spine for it. Maybe the Kellet name will die out with me.”

Die, death. About as empty and lonely as the emotions I have for him.

I bark out a laugh. “I can only be so lucky. The transfer of my half of Hardin will be granted to me that much sooner.”

Silas cringes, it’s subtle, barely a jerk, but I catch it. Something not right about the gesture. The man is only ever confident. That one movement carried too much substance, insight.

“What, don’t tell me you’re still upset over the fact that I’m your only living heir?” I sneer. He’s had eighteen years to grovel over the fact that my mother and he never reproduced again.

“There’s a loophole for everything, son. The sooner you learn that in life, the quicker you can understand why it’s important to get ahead.”

Silas is full of humor tonight. Another throaty laugh finds its way out. “And what’s ahead for me? We both already know the answer to that.”

My fingers latch on to the desk that will one day be mine. “Dad.”

There is only one of two ways I get Hardin. Only after the descendant of the current heir reaches a certain age or the current successor in the family dies.

Death, expected or unexpected, the only way for an early request of transfer to be made even if the next heir is not yet of the correct age.

The clauses are the same for both Finn and me. Ensuring our families’ shared values continue to stay equal at Hardin.

Since Silas doesn’t seem to plan on croaking anytime soon looks like I’ll have to be patient. Something I seemed to have to be doing a lot lately.

“Here, make yourself useful,” he clips, setting down more statements. “You’ve already wasted enough of my time gossiping.”

I take my seat again. Biting my tongue until I taste blood to keep myself from spitting out the truth.

You mean, like Mom made herself useful to you when you hit her?

Her memory is like a ghost in our home. In the end, my mother valued her freedom from my abusive father more than her own will to live.

The air polluted inside those walls long before her death.

Rory stirs, mumbling something incoherent. Her nose pinches, deep in her dream as she continues to sleep. Her mind lost to her imagination.

I swipe a long piece of loose blonde hair that tickles from her cheek to her nose, tucking it behind her ear. The creases that were there smooth out with my touch. Softening her beautiful features once more.

I wonder if she allows her subconscious to dream of me as mine does with her.

Yesterday was the first in what felt like months where I got more than a few hours. I was on her floor, but I found myself drifting easily into a full night’s rest.

I convinced myself that’s why I’d come back again tonight.

A dusting of something creeps along my neck. The bite stings past the thin cotton of my shirt. The whistling breeze from the small crack in the glass structure the culprit.

The conservatory chillier in the midnight air. The warmth from the sun that usually dances off the glass paused for a few more hours.

Rory had never been one to make the chase easy.

I reach over, grabbing at the blanket and stretch it across her balled-up form. Her body eases into the comfort of the soft fabric with a sigh.

I walk over to my mother’s flower. Plucking at one of the pinkish-red buds that carries the same name as her own.

Rory has been doing a great job cleaning up in here. The plants all look healthy and more alive with the added attention.

Before, the flowers bloomed wherever, now, they have designated paths. Order once again restored. The previously loose roots at your feet or overhanging vines have a sense of direction.

Everything is meticulously trimmed and groomed. The haze of colors, once a maze, now restored to order. The change nice. Needed.

The room is almost perfect. Everything else is in running order except one item. The fountain. She’s cleaned it. The green mildew around the base is now a polished white stone again, but it’s the one thing in here not in working order.

It’s not only the focal point of the room but doubles as an irrigation system for the thriving ecosystem. If it’s not running, then that must mean Rory’s been watering everything by hand.

That’s unacceptable.

Thirty-Six

Rory

Then…

WE SPENT THE ENTIRE day doing fun things. Everything Lillian suggested for my birthday we did.

My nails are now a pretty pastel pink. My hair styled and tucked back, same as hers. Even our dresses are similar in their flowy construction.

Overjoyed, my fingers trace at the silky material as she drags me beside her into the restaurant.

Bending down, she swats my hand away, fussing as she resmooths the hem. I have the sudden itch to do the same to the worry line that’s indenting her otherwise flawless complexion. I tuck my arm behind my back instead.

“You look beautiful, sweetie.” She smiles over at me but it’s too stiff. “We both do.” Nodding her head, she rights herself on an exhale.

Lillian seems to need the added reassurance, for what I don’t know.

A hostess guides us to our table, giving me a chance to gawk. The ambience is upscale. An oversized chandelier twinkles, bouncing as it reflects off the dark wood. Fabric made of ebony leather canvases most of the chairs.

Yanked, my mother pulls when I don’t move fast enough. Falling behind from staring at the luxurious atmosphere.

I’ve never been somewhere so nice in all my life.

My head angles up in her direction when she squeezes. My fingers pinch underneath her large digits, but she doesn’t notice.

Her eyes are straight ahead, focusing somewhere else.

It’s a man they’re deadlocked on. Lillian’s mouth creases up into a grin, matching the one he gives her when he spots us. I swear I can hear her heart as it pounds when we come to a stop.

He’s taller up close, slender but not noticeably so. Dressed in a dark suit, he matches the luxury of this place.

They chat for a bit, not taking a seat, as I stay tucked beside her.

Lillian is jubilant. The most lively I’ve seen her ever. That makes me instantly like this man. He must be important if he got her to get out of bed.

Next thing I know, his attention is on me, and I don’t know why but I find myself matching the tenderness of his smile. He looks at me like he should be familiar to me, but I have no clue why.

Should he be?

Lillian likes him. That gleam since she first saw him not once disappearing from her cheeks.

This wave of eased happiness around our small group washes away with a single side step. The man shifts, allowing a boy who looks around my age to come forward.

I hadn’t seen him standing there before now and I know my mother was the same. Her hold tightens with more strength than I knew she was capable of. Cutting off the circulation up to my elbow.

The boy blinks, looking up to the man and back down, mouth twisted in distaste by the time he finds me.

“Why do you and your mom look the same, that’s weird. You’re a weirdo.”

I glance at my mother, willing her to defend me, but her face is too solid in its sheen of white.

The boy tugs at the bottom of the older man’s jacket. “Can we go back to the hotel, Dad? I don’t like weirdos.”

Thirty-Seven

Rory

THE FINAL WARNING BELL rings overhead to alert students that class is about to start. I’m already in my seat so I overlook it.

More last-minute students shuffle into the room, but my focus is on reading over my notes. We have a test this morning and before I could go over everything, I’d fallen asleep.

Forgetting to set an alarm, I overslept. My scramble to get ready and not be late took up most of my morning. All of it combined putting me further behind than normal.

I’m nibbling on my thumbnail when a pair of brown-loafered feet stop at the front of my desk.

“You’ve seen better mornings, Princess.”

I slowly peel my eyes away from my notes. I don’t have time for Cole’s antics this morning. Very aware of how frazzled I look.

“Get lost finding your own class?” I ask. Fluttering my lashes so they drip with sarcasm. “Or is one guard dog not enough now, and you signed up to take Spanish too?”

Cole’s arms strain, latching down on either side of my desk. Caging me in as he arches his back so that we’re at eye level.

“Kellet.”

His mouth lifts but it’s as sly as it is wicked. Not as affected by that name as he once was. “I have something for you.”

I keep my face neutral, whatever it is, I’m almost positive I’m not going to like it. Cole never does anything without a motive.

His obsidian pupils enlarge to an impressive size. Gleaming, they shine like he can read my thoughts.

Briefly, my eyes flick at the clock past his head. “Better get on with it, Iceman. You’ve got less than a minute.”

That smile turns full blown. A playfulness hidden in it that has me drawing closer when I should be pulling away. It’s been a while since I’ve felt those lips pressed on mine.

“First, you have to say please.”

My face contorts into a scowl. “Not happening.”

His stare holds before the most bizarre thing happens. Cole lets out a hearty laugh so genuine that when the sound hits my ears, it goes past my chest and straight into my stomach.

“It’s just a word, Princess.” The lightness in his voice making him more human.

Is Cole flirting?

With me?

“Just like, fuck…” Lifting a finger as he starts ticking off items like they’re a tally. “Soft… pink… pussy… mine.”

My heart thumps as I force my thighs not to squeeze together at the deep rumble in his tone. It’s alarming how freely he can influence me even after all he’s done. I’m still so affected by everything that’s his entire being.

Lately more so than ever.

My ankle, for the most part, is alright. The tissue was mildly inflamed, but after about a week and a half, the swelling dropped. I credit that to his willingness to rewrap it for me daily. I never asked him to, and he never mentioned it, just showing up and doing it for me.

Sometimes he’d bring breakfast the same as he had that first time. We’d chat while I ate, and he wrapped. Then he’d leave and I’d drive myself to school.

No added pressure, demands, or hidden agendas.

It all felt normal, easy.

“That’s quite a list.” My voice is raspier than I want.

His eyes twinkle. “Do something for me?”

Why does it feel like the duration of his niceness is suddenly running out?

I cross my legs, hoping it comes off as defiant to keep myself from looking too eager. The natural assertiveness in his tone making me overheat.

Or maybe it’s because he’s still so close. Close enough that he can kiss me if he really wants.

I angle my chin, but it’s the wrong move. My mouth grazes his with a featherlight touch. The sensation sends shock waves to my heart.

My throat locks in my chest. “What do I get in return if I do?”

“My satisfaction,” he whispers, and it sounds like silk.

My inhale turns choppy, there’s a lethal hint of something growing in his eyes. “What if I don’t care about that?”

“Fine, your satisfaction then.”

“Elaborate…”

I pull back, blinking past the loud clearing of a throat behind me. The leg of my desk getting kicked in the same motion.

Eli. When had he come in?

I don’t understand what game Iceman is playing at, but it seems like he’s winning. He’s getting to me, and even worse, I’m letting him.

My embarrassment unexpected as it settles into my skin.

Cole’s jaw squares, widening with his displeasure. Those cerulean eyes never look past me to Eli, and it makes this all the more confusing.

“Elaborate,” I repeat. Less huskiness in this one word than before.

He doesn’t retract right away, staying in his hunched position. On a drawn-out sigh, he finally relents, and I think I can breathe again. Standing back to his full height, he grabs for the item I hadn’t noticed before on his shoulder.

I try and cover my surprise, but I’m not sure if even I would buy it.

Never would I have expected to receive this.

“Don’t make it more than it needs to be,” he taunts flatly. Leaving the room before I can get a word in or give it back.

I don’t bother looking up. Mostly because I can’t pull my eyes away long enough to be sure, but I think class has already started.

Cole’s little disturbance would no doubt be all over the hallways of KPA by the end of the day. Usually, anything dealing with a hellhound made top gossip.

Now I’m certain it will be after what he’s left behind for me.

My fingers slowly start at the bottom and work their way up. Tracing over the large number two, passing it on my way to the last name inscribed across the entire back.

Cole’s last name.

Jolting, my hand pulls away when the teacher comes by and sets a test down on top of it. I feel all topsy-turvy inside. This seems like more than a gesture of friendship.

That test the hardest one I’ve taken in my life. My brain’s sole concentration on the jersey that sat inside my bag with the weight of a loaded gun.

Thirty-Eight

Cole

RORY STILL HASN’T WORN it. Three games later and nothing. Nada. Zilch. Zero. Zip.

I shouldn’t be surprised; this is Princess we’re talking about. My girl never does anything until she’s damn near, mindfuck, annoyingly ready.

I’m not offended that she hasn’t put it on. It’s only tradition to hand out our extra jerseys. Girls have been sporting Finn, Eli’s, and our other team members’ all season.

Proud and appreciative, that’s what they are. Our jerseys are worn with pride and honor. Especially if you manage to snag a hellhound for a game. A prize Finn is never shy about giving out.

Mine is probably sitting in a dresser. If not a trash can.

Not upset about it. Nope, not one bit.

Speaking of, I finish typing out a response to her text. She’s sent me a funny picture of herself with her tongue poking out. We’ve been doing this more. Not every day, but most she’ll find something to send or I, her.

“We still on for your house tonight?” Eli asks, pulling my attention from my phone.

“That works. I should be able to get away by eight.”

He looks at me quizzically. Busying himself again after I give nothing away. I don’t care if he saw my phone just now. What Rory and I talk about is between us. It’s not Eli’s business.

He knows better.

Despite everything, I have been making more of an effort to try and see my boys more. We see each other a lot of the day already but that’s school or basketball.

We need time to just hang out and unwind. Allotting any extra time for them in my already packed schedule. Mostly we do dumb stuff that’ll get us arrested or play video games.

Inadvertently, it also allows less time for Eli to hang with Rory. That hadn’t been the original intention but I’m not going to complain about the results.

Rory may be blinded by her twelve-year-old memories of him but I’m not. I was telling the truth when I told her she doesn’t know him like I do. Eli comes off as the nice guy, but he carries darkness inside the same as the rest of us.

While Eli likes to disguise himself behind kindness and friendship, I’ve always been up front about who I am. My intentions are never unclear when you meet me. I don’t see the need to pretend to be something I’m not.

That’s the thing about us hellhounds people fail to see. We all have masks. We just each choose to wear them differently.

Like understands like.

Unfortunately, that’s my disadvantage. Eli’s too good at hiding who he is and knows Rory, same as I do. They may have a history, but Rory is still mine.

Cut, dry, and send it to the press because that’s one fact that won’t be changing.

“That work for you too?”

“Works for me,” Finn says, a little drawn.

Whereas Eli is smart and convincing, Finn is easygoing and laid back. Well, usually, lately my oldest friend has been more standoffish and distant.

We’ve known each other since we were in diapers and even then, he never took life too seriously. The complete opposite of myself, which is how we became friends to begin with.

Finn always shared his toys, and now grown up, that hasn’t changed. Only now, it’s usually with pussy and cars.

I know, for a fact, he and Eli have shared girls before. I have zero clue if they’ve shared at the same time, but they’ve been known to pass a few back and forth like an all-you-can-eat buffet.

It’s a rare occasion if Finn isn’t willing to share. His car is a good example of a non-negotiable.

If I really need to, though, I know I can still manipulate him into handing it over. He knows me better, so it’s more of a challenge, but I can manage if need be.

Finn is willing to give slack, while I prefer to live life on a tight, narrow line.

Although something tells me he’s been regretting that logic as of late.

I’ve caught his eyes lingering past us a few times in the last several minutes. Not that it will take much effort to confirm my suspicions if I turn around. So, I don’t bother. Willing to bet my left thumb that I’d find a certain dark-auburn-haired girl if I did.

“Lady troubles?” Eli asks, catching on as well.

See, that’s how we’re similar, we both observe what most people take the time to miss. Our difference is that I never would’ve brought it up. I prefer when people come to me.

Plus, often, more times than not—shocker—I don’t care about other people’s feelings. What they do with their lives is not my concern unless it involves me.

Then we might have a problem.

Also, as much as it would be humorous to pop the hearts in his eyes. I can’t because I’m in the boat right fucking beside him with his sister.

Drawing out his weight, Finn sags into both of us. Arms slinging over our shoulders, grin too springy. “Let’s get fucked up tonight.”

Thirty-Nine

Rory

I IMPULSE TEXTED HIM and ended up here tonight. I’m now doubting whether it was a good idea to come alone after pulling up to the address he sent.

This location is sketchy as fuck.

Angling, I contort my body to see out the front windshield. The view from this angle is no better. The yellowness of my headlights does nothing to diminish that swirling feeling of doubt that currently sits in my gut.

“Who did you recommend, Hails?” I mumble aloud.

This the stereotypical start to any bad horror movie, always. I’ve never been to this side of town, and I can’t imagine during the daytime, it’s much better than at night.

The street empty of anything but a spiky, wrought iron fence and a long wall of red brick on the other. The line of buildings smashed together as far back as I can see.

Rough would be putting it nicely. I’m officially creeped out as I turn off the engine.

Mentally, I already have my escape route planned out by the time I check my phone. The text I’d sent Hailey goes unanswered, so I toss my phone on the dash after another five minutes.

This is the guy her parents recommended, the least she can do is answer the phone. I know the girl lives for her socials, so why isn’t she answering?

This is so unlike her.

I need the added reassurance that come tomorrow, they aren’t going to find my body in a ditch on the side of the road.

My phone vibrates, lighting the car in a blueish hue. I reach for it instantly.

She better have a good excuse for why she chose now of all times to ignore me.

I chuck the phone into my bag after I respond to Mr. Sketchy himself. At least he is thorough. Double-checking that I’m still coming.

I was… or I am.

So what if I’d forgotten about Hailey’s little suggestion until after Lorna randomly decided she wanted to eat with us at dinner. It’d been only Abram and me. Still, she found a way to insult me and Lillian as she sucked down her soup which mostly consisted of chicken broth.

Her comment got my head spinning, with more questions than answers coming to mind. First, it was my despisal for her. Then it shifted to how Finn mentioned Lorna hated, in the past, whenever Abram brought either of us up. It was then I realized after everything, I still have no idea why she attacked me over a book.

After that, my mind went berserk, running like a well-oiled machine. One thing led to another and now I’m here.

Swallowing down my doubts with the same fervor that got me in this whole mess to begin with, I climb out.

Because—whatever, it doesn’t matter. I’m here now. Might as well see what the guy has to say.

“Thought you’d changed your mind,” he grunts after I knock.

My ribs scream, but I shove past, coming inside anyway. The asshole only opened the door narrow enough for me to pinch my way in.

I glare, already on edge as is, but this isn’t starting off so good. Trapped in a room with a man who’s over twice my age. The greasy balding spot on the crown of his head not helping either.

Not only is he twice my age, but that goes for weight as well. This guy is huge but not in a cute teddy bear kind of way, more like liver spots and too many sci-fi movies type.

I watch in slow motion as the door closes. My last thought before he hits the lock is that I shouldn’t have parked down the street.

His scowl is eerie, and I know then I’ve signed over my own death warrant. Hailey’s mom undersold how strange this guy was.

Kooky is not the word I’d use.

Eyeing the room for another way of escape as he continues to block the door, I notice there isn’t much else in here. Hailey had said he’s a collector of rare books, but I don’t see one in sight.

I’m hoping, for my sake, he keeps those somewhere else because all that’s in this room are a few mismatched pieces of furniture and some empty microwave meal containers.

“You bring it with you?”

I gulp, reaching inside my bag. The guy is straight to the point. I can appreciate that since he gives me the heebie-jeebies.

The sooner he looks at my book, the sooner I can leave.

“Yeah—I mean, yes. I did.” Forcing confidence past my tongue even after I’d slipped up in the beginning.

I set it down between us even though my fingers twitch at my side, itching to snatch it back the second they let go.

“It’s a first edition.”

My mouth gapes. “How can you be so sure?” He’s hardly glanced at it.

He flips back to the first page. The handwritten inscription on full display. His finger taps at the other page. A decal smaller than a dime is just below his index. It looks like a sticker.

I can feel the heat from his stare, he’s angry.

“What is that?” I’ve never noticed it before.

“What did you say your name is again?”

I choke down a ball of spit. “…Rory.”

He arches a brow. “Hale?”

I nod, not liking that gleam in his eye. “Look, I have somewhere I need to be,” I say, lying straight through my teeth.

His hand slams down on top of mine before I can take my book and I have to force my feet not to jump back. What is this guy’s problem?

Whatever it is, it isn’t worth being here any longer. I reach for it again, but he slams his hand over the top. Same as before.

“That’s not your last name,” he sneers, getting in my face now.

Inside I’m petrified, but I do my best not to show that I’m shaking. How can he know that?

“It was a present.” Oversharing, why I’m not sure. Trying to defend myself maybe?

“Know someone that can afford a first edition, aye?” He sucks on his teeth. “Those don’t run cheap. Especially not your copy. It’s one of the rarest, if not most desirable editions out there.”

I had no idea.

His mouth turns sinister. “Know what that means?”

“I came here to find out more about it,” I mumble, shaking in my skin.

Honest, I wasn’t aware of its value. I mean, I know it had to be a nice copy, but I didn’t know to this extent.

“It means you’re a thief.” His hand slams down on the wood of the table, and this time I do jump. Way past caring if I look scared because I’m beyond that point.

Terrified a more accurate word.

His posture shifts suddenly, attention elsewhere as something catches his eye.

Before I know what’s happening, he’s pulling at my still open bag. Grabbing, he reaches for the dangling lanyard. The Hardin logo and name down the band.

My work badge.

A photo with my name hanging from the bottom. My eyes widen with clarity.

If this guy had any doubts about believing me before, I’ve just given him the fuel to the already burning embers inside his head. According to my lanyard, my last name isn’t Hale. The boldness of the letters registers that clear as day.

Aurora Casper.

Shit.

Cole had taken it upon himself to change it in the system after my first week.

My uneasiness more than doubles, triples, quadruples, past the chart. Gulping, I hope my body is at least put in a decent position when they find me because I’m dead.

I’m frozen to my spot as my pulse pounds.

He’s watching me differently than before. Earlier, he’d been weird, sure, but this, this takes it to the extreme. A mixture of spite and curiosity stares back.

He tracks my every move. “You said this was a gift?”

“A present.” I agree.

Why is he suddenly so calm? It makes him that much more eerie.

“Funny how,”—this isn’t funny at all. I’m not having any fun—“a benefit to you is a loss for me. That decal I showed you, yeah, that’s my emblem.”

What’s he talking about?

“Nonpermanent, of course, but I add them to any edition I own.”

He steps into me, and my neck cranes up.

“That book wasn’t for sale,” he spits. Phlegm flies from his mouth and hits me in the face as his hand wraps around my neck.

I don’t focus on what that means. I can’t do anything other than fixate on how my feet are leaving the ground. His grip doing the opposite of loosening.

My lashes dance, blinking past the spots in my vision.

He lifts me until I’m at his level. “I told your family years.” My head slams into the wall. “Years ago, that this copy is not for sale, and you know what happened?” He snarls.

My eyes cross when I get a whiff of his nasty breath. It smells like expired onions.

“It was stolen from me. Me!” He reiterates with malice.

I hardly register any of this. Those spots taking up most of my vision now.

Just as I’m on the verge of losing consciousness, it happens. I couldn’t have prayed for better timing.

My phone rings. It’s scattered somewhere below my feet with all the other items that have fallen from my bag, but it’s ringing and it’s loud.

I’ve never been so grateful to hear the annoying-ass ringtone Hailey had given herself. Blaring, it echoes like a hallelujah inside the cramped room.

The noise gives me the split second of distraction I desperately need to escape. Before he has time to react, my knee is already rising, and I find the strength. Hitting him between the balls.

My feet drop to the floor almost instantly. My go-to move not once failing me thus far.

In my haste, I grab for the still ringing phone, my book bag, and the book. Then I’m out and running down the street as fast as my legs can carry me.

Never once do I look back.

I slow on a cough only when I reach the car. My throat sore and tender from his grip. The franticness of my sprint not helping my breathing either.

On a wheeze, I touch my neck and flinch. Definitely going to bruise if they haven’t already started to form.

Reaching inside my bag, I go to reach for my car key but come up empty. Widening the bag, my movements become more frantic. The singular source of light from the streetlight doing next to nothing.

“Come on, come on,” I chant, pleading. “Where are you?”

My movements become jerky before I give up, tossing the bag to the ground. My knees hit my chest as I slide down the side of the vehicle. This can’t be happening.

The keys aren’t here. I must’ve left them inside with the other half of the stuff that fell out.

My hand wraps around the charm on my bracelet. The crescent moon eases my comfort a fraction.

I want to scream but I know my already tender chords won’t allow it.

Gazing back from where I came, I have two options. Go back inside—which isn’t happening—or call someone for help.

Blindly my hand grabs for my phone. At least I hadn’t forgotten this.

Somehow this option feels worse. The last time I’d reached out and asked for help had been after the Lorna incident in the conservatory and we all know how well that ended.

The back of my head hits the steel.

There is always the third option. I can walk. As quickly as I have the idea, I shut it down. It’s an as equally stupid thought as going back inside.

Unlocking my phone, I scroll to their name. Shoving past the growing ball of nerves in my throat, I put the phone to my ear and wait.

Part of me hopes that it goes to voice mail, but I know it never will. Not if I’m calling. Maybe that’s why I chose them over everybody else.

The phone picks up on the first ring, exactly like I knew it would.

Here goes nothing…

“…Eli, I need your help.”

Forty

Rory

DUSTING MY KNEES, I stand from my spot after seeing a pair of headlights roll in. The car comes to a stop behind mine.

My breathing may have evened out in the thirty-minute time span it took him to get out here but that’s only given my pity time to soak in.

I’d been attacked, the guy choked me. As if thinking it, my swallow deepens to an almost painful level. The ache there getting worse, not better.

A part of me is ashamed that I came alone, and the bigger part is upset that I’d come at all. Every time, I always end up with more questions than answers. Then there is the embarrassment. I should’ve been stronger; I know I could’ve handled the walk home by myself.

The darkness. I should have pushed past my fear.

It’s too late for that now.

My eyes crease as the person steps out of the shadows and into the blinding headlights of the still-running car.

“You’re not Eli.”

Cole sighs, looking past me, he doesn’t seem in the mood any more than I. “Look, Princess, I’m not going to let you sit here all night, so let me take you home.”

I squint. “Where’s Eli?”

“Not here, Princess.”

That’s obvious.

In reality, I should be grateful someone showed up at all, but I hadn’t called Cole for a reason. His seeing me like this replays bad memories for me. It makes me feel weak, vulnerable.

I sink back down to the ground. “I’ll wait.”

My pride won’t allow the burden of exposure again.

His teeth grit. “Well, you’ll be waiting until tomorrow then. He and Finn have been sharing an entire bottle of bourbon between them. Most likely, they’re passed out on my couch by now.”

“You didn’t have any?”

He keeps his voice placid. “No, Princess, I’m more sober than a saint on a Sunday.”

This catches me by surprise for some reason. I’ve noticed he’s been cutting back, but I don’t know, it still catches me off guard. Something that isn’t distress or annoyance crossing his face.

He sounds and looks exhausted.

I snort, momentarily forgetting and my neck painfully reminds me that isn’t a good idea. Cole, never missing a thing, steps before me and squats. Tucking a finger under my chin as he lifts me back to standing.

His fingers press around my cheeks as he rotates my neck from side to side slowly. Examining me under more light.

“What are these?”

The weight of that one question like holding me hostage. Somehow those few words hurt more than that man’s hands around my neck.

Forcefully, I yank my head away, not caring about the pain when the hurt in his eyes is so much worse. The bruises I know are bad, they have to be with how his breathing grows more ragged.

My name like a curse as it pushes past his lips, a darkness I can’t explain shadowing his features.

Cole looks erratic while I’m just straining to not break down in front of him. I know he’s desperate to know what’s wrong. Fix it in the only way he knows how, but I just want to go home and forget this ever happened.

His stance widens and I know then that my time has almost run out. His patience diminished to the point of almost nonexistence the longer I stall. Giving nothing away.

“Stop being stubborn and tell me who the fuck did that to your neck and why the fuck they’re lucky enough to still be breathing.” His temper doesn’t dwindle, if anything, it continues to grow.

He looks at me like I’m the best and worst thing he’s ever seen.

“Can we just go home?”

Why can’t I give him a straight answer? Because you don’t want him to see you like this. Cole isn’t supposed to be here while I’m helpless and sitting on a dirt-covered road.

Pathetic and weak, that’s what I am right now in front of him.

“Please?” I beg.

“Not until you give me a somewhat decent answer. One that doesn’t involve you sidestepping.” He looks around, eyeing the area with distaste. “First, what is this place, and why am I, but more importantly, why are you here?”

“And?” I find myself asking when he hesitates, even though I already know what’s coming next.

“How did you end up with a throat that looks like someone played a game and used your neck as the dice?” His tone shrivels to nothing. “You lost, Rory. You fucking lost, baby.”

He sounds absolutely gutted. Destroyed. The hurt in his voice breaks, but it also equally makes me despise him. I loathe that he makes me feel these emotions when I want to feel nothing at all.

Eli would’ve taken me home, but not him. Cole makes me face everything head-on and right now, I hate him for it.

When I do look up at him, the anger I expect to find isn’t there. Before it might’ve been, but now, he watches me with a mixture of remorse and relief.

“Can you take me home?” I ask again, drowning from the outside in.

His lips smash together on a defeated, tight nod.

It isn’t until we’re pulling back up to the Caspers’ and I’m ready to get out that he speaks again. “Is this how it’s going to be between us?”

The words are quiet, like even he’s afraid of the answer. The softness in his tone colliding at me with the force of a tsunami.

My chest tightens around my ribs. Stalling, my limbs twitch on the handle, but I don’t move. I can’t.

“You’re never going to let me back in like before? Are you? No matter what I do, how hard I try. It’s never going to be enough for you.”

His mouth parts on a crippling breath, and it’s like he’s taken all the oxygen with him because I’m being pulled under. Sabotaged by his confession.

My eyes slam closed. A single tear manages to slip out against my will. The brokenness in his words killing me dead.

He chuckles, but it’s filled with only hopelessness. The material on his steering wheel groans as his hands tighten, gripping around the leather.

“Know what the crazy thing is, baby girl? You’ve always had me. Even before everything.” He hits something, and it’s loud. Another tear slips past. “I should’ve been the one you called tonight, and deep down, I know you know that too. You wanted to.”

That pitter-patter sound? That’s my insides slamming into my chest. Begging to push through. Cole’s desperation tearing me apart even as I cling to it like a lifeline.

“But you didn’t, did you?” The words were ghostly on his lips. “You chose someone else. You chose someone else when it should’ve been me.”

If it’s possible to feel stable but be completely lifeless, then that’s what I am.

My chin wobbles. Panicked because I know he’s right. Afraid because I barely survived letting him in once, and if I do fully let him in, all of me, I know I won’t recover if he hurts me again. And then there’s the fact that I’m downright petrified to admit that he means more to me than anyone else ever has before.

So, there you have it. The honest truth.

No callousness, hint of joy, nothing but the raw facts.

Cole lets out a winded, disappointed sigh. “Go inside. I’ll be back later.” His voice doesn’t shake once, but that’s all I can manage to do.

I’m already inside the house and nearly to my room before he can finish the sentence. Putting as much distance between us as I can possibly manage.

I go to my bathroom, desperately trying to put that much more length. Inches are miles tonight.

Even after I hear the rumble of his engine outside. Trembling, I know he’s gone and I’m relieved but also upset because he didn’t stay. I don’t want to be alone tonight.

What is wrong with me?

My throat clogs, stinging as more tears fall when I catch myself in the mirror. Ripping off my shirt, it ricochets off the opposite wall at my grunt. Snatching my hair back and pulling in frustration. The purplish-black marks on either side of my neck are worse than I could have imagined.

Suddenly, I don’t blame Cole for reacting how he had. I’m angry too.

If anything, it was mild compared to how I’d seen him before. Before, he’d obliterate the entire street corner until he found the culprit without blinking an eye.

The tears fall harder.

How have I not realized it before? In all this time?

The mirage I’ve been chasing has really been disclosing the truth.

While I’ve been giving up, Cole’s been changing. Becoming a better version of himself every day. A better man for me. The person I needed him to be.

My hand finds my mouth, fat drops breaking past as the walls of my once carefully constructed dam crumble. The high foundation obliterated before my very eyes.

The old Cole would have exploded. He was upset, but who wouldn’t be after seeing the marks on my neck? This Cole didn’t do anything but take me home when I asked. Doing so without repercussions. Without the answers he begged me for.

Same with giving me his blazer, my car, bandaging my ankle, setting up my phone? The list goes on and on. Doing these things for me without a hidden agenda or motive.

The intent behind every action moral. I’d been there for every single one, but I wasn’t seeing. Now I am.

My eyes are open, awake with their clarity.

Cole isn’t the one blocking the path, he’s been the one mending it while I stand like a barrier in the way. Every obstacle I throw, each notch, any hurdle, he keeps on moving forward.

Day after day. Over and over and over again.

He’s trying, for me. For us. Just like he said he’d do.

I sink to the floor in a ball made of equal tears and shame. Howling as the wails grow stronger, but I don’t surrender, letting them out. Letting the walls of my bathroom hear my despair.

My stomach sucks in as my heart explodes, how have I been so blind?

Something dusts over my skin, featherlight in its touch.

The weightlessness of floating not unfamiliar to me as I’m picked up. Sinking further, I allow the familiar presence to move me. Too exhausted to open my eyes as they carry me and place me in my bed.

Turning, I sink into the plushness, the covers like silk against my skin.

The bed dips, them climbing in behind me.

I don’t relent and limpen into the lushness. It’s incomparable to the hardness of the bathroom floor. Crying myself into a coma.

I’m asleep, I know this, but I’m also aware of what’s going on around me. Here but not, like a dreamlike trance.

Maybe that’s why I let them do what they do because I’m not fully conscious of the repercussions. Blaming it on that, I sink, melting against the warmth of their skin as they tuck me into their chest.

The faint smell of something metallic is the last thing I remember before I drift back into unconsciousness.

Forty-One

Cole

“COLE, MY OFFICE.”

I don’t lift my head, finishing tying my shoelace instead. Coach Boone can wait.

Practices have been extended since the start of the week, prepping for districts. There is no way we aren’t going without our perfect season so far.

My father’s not happy about me showing less and less, but he’ll get over it. And if not, oh well. He’s only been giving me more statements. My time with him consumed with something that held little to no merit.

The task doesn’t make sense.

He’s most likely doing it on purpose.

Every day, the lines around my once perfectly structured life blur a little more, like walking around with no outline, my guide on how to handle it all nonexistent.

“Now!” Boone clips, shoving his head out of his office again.

I take my time tying up the other one, not because it needs it but because he needs to learn his lesson. I won’t be talked down to like this.

A muscle relaxant would also probably help. For him not me.

“Oh, someone’s in trouble,” Finn goads when I finally decide to get off my ass.

The swift punch at his shoulder has that throaty laugh swelling before it dies. Shoving its way past his sternum. A frown replacing that cocksure attitude.

I can feel more eyes on my back as I enter, close the door, and take a seat, but none of that’s new.

What I don’t know is why I’m being singled out. I do what is necessary to win—and we do win. Simple as that.

Call it cocky, whatever you want, doesn’t bother me either way because we are undefeated. The truth is in the answer.

Confidence comes with a certain level of cockiness. Unlucky for most, I possess both.

“I usually try to add a little extra time in my schedule for my seniors. Get to know their plans, understand their goals after graduation.”

Where is this going because it sounds like a waste of my time? My entire life already mapped out.

“I want to talk to you about something, something you probably won’t hear from anyone else. We’ve had our differences, but that aside, I’m still your coach.”

I cock an eye. Okay, now I’m interested.

“Whatcha got?”

The sigh he gives more for theatrics than anything else. “Do you have plans after high school?”

I grunt at the coward. He’s starting easy, like everyone doesn’t already know what’s in store for me.

His upper lip thins. “I’m serious, Cole.”

So am I.

“I know the influence that your family has over not only this school but the town. The role they play. The role you’ve been born into.”

Again, where is he going with this? If he could spit it out sooner rather than waiting until I’m his age, it would be delightful.

“That’s a lot of influence as well as pressure. Have you ever been given the opportunity to think about a future that doesn’t involve working for your family?”

Has this man ever met my father?

“Colleges… military… anything?”

I could call him out for being stupid, but frankly, I don’t have the energy. Also, I just want to leave, and going back and forth would only delay that further.

This entire conversation is pointless.

I have zero influence over what happens in my life. And after about five minutes of me not doing anything other than staring at him, does he finally start to get that.

“It’s your future, your freedom. Think about it.”

Freedom—ha, the insanity.

He talks like I’m actually given the option. He doesn’t understand the pressure because he’s always had the power of choice.

Boone can wake up tomorrow and decide he wants to become a dentist and it will happen. Me? Never.

Never, not once, would I ever subject myself to the filth of shoving fingers into mouths, but it’s the principle.

He chose to dedicate his life to fitness and coaching. Never will I ever have that same opportunity. So, no, I haven’t thought about those things because they are irrelevant.

College, sure, I’d go, but I could major in Budapest studies and still end up working at Hardin by the time I graduate. That’s my life, my role… my one purpose.

Conceived with the idea to only lead the next generation of wealth.

He will never understand, no one does unless they’ve been born into similar shoes.

“We done?”

The muscles in his jaw relax, frown deepening. Whatever he’d been hoping to get out of this little powwow moment going on deaf ears.

He can lecture me all he wants, but until he understands the trap I’ve been forced into, I don’t want to hear it. My only escape sitting on the top floor of Hardin.

Accepting my fate for what it is.

The only person who has even come close to rumpling the feathers of an otherwise perfect plan is Rory. Before she’d come back not once but twice, most days had blurred together.

The color she brought to my world hit me with bold transparency. The force like nothing I’ve ever experienced before.

It a something that only happens once in a lifetime.

She’s the only person who has ever made me question even possibly wanting more. That’s what she does to me, the influence she holds, and she doesn’t even see it.

The tilt Boone gives me is casual, like he can somehow read what’s going on inside my head and I despise it. Almost as much as I despise still being here.

Normally I would just leave, but something tells me he expects that, so I don’t. Keeping people on their toes has always been more fun.

“Got something else to add?”

The corner of his mouth lifts in a grin and I detest it. It screams insight and arrogance. “Yeah, actually, I do.”

I blink past my annoyance. Guy knows how to take his sweet ass time. Get on with it!

“Get out of my office and tell Finn to come in. I’ve got something I want to talk to him about too.”

As soon as I’m out, both hellhounds are on me like mosquitoes on a hot day.

“What’d he want?”

“Is it about districts?”

“You’re up, Finn,” I say, disregarding their questions. Slinging my duffel over my shoulder instead.

My time here at KPA may be almost done, but the commitment expected of me elsewhere will never be far behind.

Darkness, nothing without light.

Forty-Two

Rory

“I CAN’T BE THE only one that thinks that’s weird, right?”

Our group at lunch falls quiet—or correction, it’s been quiet since Hailey hasn’t allowed anyone else to get a word in.

Droning on the entire lunch about some guy she’d met outside of school and how he’s now ghosting her. If you asked her, she’d make it seem like she’s been talking with this guy for a year when it’s only been days. A week tops.

The entire time she talks, she’s ignorant of the tension. I can feel the sweltering of Finn’s skin the more she talks. Radiating, and he’s not even beside me as he clings to her every word.

The investment he has in this conversation well above sane.

His interest is more than making up for the lack of Cole’s across him.

She pokes her fork at a pasta noodle on my tray. “Right?”

This is about the dozenth time she’s asked me this question and I give her the same answer as the last ten. “Right.”

At the start of lunch, I’d been sympathetic, really, I had, but now it’s starting to become overkill.

Besides, the one-worded answers are easier on my still recovering vocal cords. Wearing my hair down has helped hide the bruises. The thick concealer Hailey suggested I buy, overall doing the best job.

“I mean, it’s strange, right?”

I have no idea why she’s acting like this guy has some major influence over her. The one who actually does is sitting at our table.

I shove a noodle in my mouth. It’s as bland and as mundane as her insistence on keeping on with this topic.

I want to be there for my friend but something about it doesn’t make sense. More of the pieces adding up the longer she drones on.

They’d run into each other at a local coffee shop by the house her parents were potentially selling to a client. She’d gone in to pick up their drinks, he gave her his number and that’s it. Literally never went back, never saw him again.

Nothing.

She’s also pointed out that the guy is a boring texter, so why the fuss?

Also, the name of the coffee shop, she’s only mentioned for the first time today. Weird how Finn handed me a croissant in a bag with the same logo Saturday.

Then I hadn’t thought anything of it, but now I’d bet everything on Hailey’s ghost guy that it’s not a coincidence.

I know Hailey though, and there’s no way she would’ve told Finn the name of the place for that exact reason. My theory, he searched listings that her parents own and coffee shops within walking distance and found his answer.

Cole would do something similar and those two are basically brothers, so I’m not surprised they’d carry the same caveman logic. Justifying their actions.

I’ll tell her this later when we don’t have as many listening ears.

“Ever think that this guy maybe just doesn’t like you?” Finn jerks, the passion behind his question coming out of nowhere. “I mean, you do have that weird dimple on your cheek working against you.”

Hailey doesn’t see it in her rage, but his eyes are swimming with his deception.

Her fork falls from her grasp and now I know she’s mad. Eating my food instead of her own one of her favorite hobbies.

“Guess some guys can’t appreciate a good woman even if they’re staring them right in the face,” Hailey spits back on a huff.

Since Cole’s sitting right next to me, it’s his knee I feel jerk against mine as he tries to contain his laughter.

I can’t show my cards because, unlike everyone else, they all expect this type of reaction from Cole. Honestly though, does Hailey hear what she’s saying?

The irony hitting her with the reflection of a mirror.

Hailey and Finn are still bickering back and forth. Firing off insults like it’s a competition. A pair of too-familiar hands unexpectedly lock around a piece of my hair at the middle of my back.

Shivers break out as Cole wraps a blonde piece around his thumb before dropping it to climb higher.

I bite back my moan, goose bumps breaking out across my entire body. Head to toe. His hand finds the back of my neck and he starts kneading.

Careful not to smudge my makeup, he works his way into the bottom of my scalp. I needed this.

I let out a grown, each new pass relaxing me that much more.

The unexpectedness of it all as calming as it is strange until I hear, “’sup.” Followed by a head nod that carries too much masculinity.

The niceness of the gesture washing away as soon as I track Cole’s line of sight. Eli taking his seat near us.

Cole’s mouth twists into a nasty little smirk as his fingers continue their movements. Eli’s smile fades.

I’d thought what he’s been doing was out of politeness for Hailey and Finn’s bickering. Consoling me, so I allowed it.

Now I see his true intentions. The move nothing more than him trying to show his possessiveness. It’s disappointing because I’ve just come to think that we’re past all this.

I shove Iceman’s hand away, not willing to be the puppet in this circus.

“You’re late.” Cole’s tone was as constrained as my anger.

“Stopped by the library, here,” Eli says, shoving the book at me. “Picked this up for you. Same as old times, huh?”

I don’t have to look over to know Cole’s jaw is taut. I can hear the molars inside his mouth as they grind together.

“It’s great, thank you.” I rush to put it into my bag without looking at it.

I don’t know why I react this way. Acting all fidgety and jumpy when I have no reason to be. Friends do things like this for one another. It shouldn’t be a big deal, but it feels like it is.

Whatever’s going on between them, it becomes obvious that Cole thinks he’s won after part of his mouth lifts into a smug smirk.

“Wow, you can smell the testosterone from here,” Hailey jabs. Her comment not only not needed but not helping. Putting another crack in the already present tension.

The sparkle in Cole’s eye turns vicious.

I shoot her a look. When had she and Finn stopped bickering?

The sound of a chair scraping across the floor has my head whipping around, Finn of all people the one to storm off. For what reason I don’t know. Too wrapped up in my own stress.

The metal rattles off the frame as the door slams open. My brother storms out into the cold, unfazed.

Hailey does the same, moving as quickly after. Mumbling, she says, “There’s someone I need to call anyway.” Before disappearing in the opposite direction.

I hope for her sake that it isn’t the ghost guy, but I know it will be.

This lunch somehow went from carefree and casual to confusing and hostile real quick.

I look back, understanding coming too late.

Trapped, I’m stuck alone at the table with both Cole and Eli.

Great.

I’ve never needed a reason to enter my glass house before, but something tugs at me, telling me to go. So, I do later that night.

The room has always been beautiful but never finished. Much as I’ve tried to clean everything, it hasn’t been enough. The one thing tying it all together is something I could never work out how to fix.

Not anymore.

That one missing piece restored before my very eyes.

This one—smaller but still oversized—an almost identical masterpiece to the one outside the Casper mansion.

Unlike that fountain, which was turned off for winter, this one works. Water running tranquil. Peacefully it spouts from the top and down into the circular bowl below.

My chest thumps.

I never assumed I’d see the day. I’d tried on my own but could never figure it out.

But seeing it like this… wow!

The simplicity of it as marvelous as it is magnificent.

Following around the loop, my fingers skim the tip of the water. Giddy in my excitement. The magic inside this room feels as if it’s finally complete.

The excitement I have comes to an almost sedative-like halt when I see the single flower along the edge of the stone.

My breath locks right there in my lungs.

A camellia.

Forty-Three

Rory

“CAN YOU PASS ME an egg roll?”

Finn’s already had three, but who’s counting?

Tonight’s dinner consists of take-out boxes, chopsticks, and work that never seems to end.

Our family dinners have less consistently been at the Casper mansion and more at Hardin. It just makes more sense for everyone since Abram co-ran the company and I work in the mail room.

Finn claims he brings food because he doesn’t want us to starve. Showing up several times a week with takeout after practice lets out. He says this, but I know he’s started to enjoy this time together. It’s almost like we’re a real family.

No one ever asks where Lorna is, not even Finn brings her up much. She’s around, but she’s basically alone. Isolated in her own company.

She and Abram’s marriage is a lot like the sun. Damaging to your eyes but will also burn your brain cells.

“I know you all can hear me,” Finn adds, peeved.

“How can anyone hear over your slurping? It’s chow mein, not soup,” Cole says, voice as dry as it is humorless.

In response, Finn shoves down a large bite and sucks the noodles between his teeth.

“You made your point,” I complain. The noise getting to even my nerves now. “Sometimes you make me wonder how we’re related,” I say, tossing him my egg roll.

Losing it’s a small price to pay if it means he’ll stop grinning with bits of leftover green onion lodged in his teeth.

“I know you were taught how to use a napkin,” Abram says, tossing him one. “The money I’d spent for those etiquette classes your mother forced you to take seem to be going to waste.”

I nearly choke on my broccoli beef. “You had etiquette lessons?”

Finn’s mouth turns grim, side-eyeing Abram.

“He had them for years. He could never seem to manage the, well, etiquette part.”

“I think that’s the best thing I’ve ever heard.” My head rolls back on a laugh. The cold anger glittering in Finn’s eyes making it even more humorous.

Abram, indifferent to it all, shrugs as he picks at his food.

Everyone else joins in, laughing at his expense when he rips the egg roll through his teeth. His chewing is slow like he wishes it were my head.

“Ah, come on, Finn, it only took you, what five years?”

The color drains from Finn’s face. “Dad,” he fumes through clenched teeth.

The warning clear in his tone, but Abram’s not the least bit threatened by his son. Dabbing at his mouth with a napkin to conceal his smirk.

“You guys are the worst,” Finn whines before shoving himself from his seat.

“Weren’t you taught it’s impolite to leave the table without permission?” Cole hollers at his retreating form.

Finn stumbles. “And I thought this was going to be a nice dinner before we leave for our trip.”

Laughing like hyenas, he waves his arm, flipping us all off, exiting.

For that one comment right there, I’m grateful Finn invited Cole to dinner tonight. I’m sure he didn’t mind joining. Eating with us better than sitting in Silas’s stuffy office.

I’ve only been in there once when they’d tricked me. That trip absolute misery.

The hairs on my arms stand. That room is as dead and lifeless as the person occupying it.

“I should probably go check on him,” Abram says, clearing his throat and rising from his chair.

The air in the room changes as soon as he’s gone. It’s only the pair of us now.

“You know we never did this. I never got the chance.”

I’m not sure what Cole means. “What are you saying?”

“This,” he reiterates, pointing at the table. “A date. I never took you on a proper one.”

My chewing slows before I choke it down. Whatever I’d been eating, losing all its flavor. My appetite right along with it. “What are you suggesting?”

“I want to take you on a date.”

All the blood rushes to my cheeks at the casual tilt of his head. It’s as roguish as it is charming.

His hands join his elbows on the table. “Rory, will you go out on a date with me?”

It’s a simple yes or no question, yet I can’t find my voice to give one.

My inhale is as choppy as it is drawn out. Caught off guard to the extreme. Where is this coming from? We were cracking jokes at Finn’s expense and suddenly we’re here? Just like that?

If I’m looking for doubts, I won’t find them from him. His face as somber as the dead. The lack of resistance from him only builds the pressure on the question.

Cole’s smirk is slow, but combine that with the lethal look in his eyes as he watches me right now.

“You’re overthinking again, Princess.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

My pulse skyrockets as his mouth hooks higher. He knows he’s right and it’s far too attractive for anyone’s sanity.

The answer is on the tip of my tongue. I already know what I want to say. My mouth parts, flowering open before it withers shut.

“Don’t answer me right now, wait until after our trip and then decide.”

My scowl deepens. Right, the trip.

This “epic adventure” Finn arranged for us all to take. I have no idea where we are going—I didn’t ask—but we leave tomorrow. He’s planned everything. Bringing it up to everyone after he already set it up.

All I do know is he wants to drive versus us flying and I planned to pass the fuck out in the back.

Right as I’m about to comment on the topic, a blistering fester of a human being storms in. Breaking one uneasiness only to fill it with his own.

“I’ve given you an hour, which is more than generous.” Of course, Silas would find an hour generous when speaking to his son. “Now it’s time to get back to reality.”

Cole’s hand is somehow already on the top of my thigh that’s under the table. His grip tightens with a squeeze as he rambles further.

“Let’s go. Money might grow on trees but it’s the effort that makes it flourish.” Silas waves the tips of his fingers. “Come.”

Cole doesn’t move from his seat or release his hold. The grip on my leg almost protective before it’s not. Moving, it shifts higher until his hand is completely underneath my skirt. His thumb flicks, skimming my pussy featherlight.

My skin flushes as a cold sweat breaks out, not expecting it. His grip tightens on my thigh, holding me in place when I jolt from the contact.

His face stays completely emotionless as he does it again, while I silently burn for him to not stop. We are equal parts spark and shadow.

“Your partner manages to run his half just fine while still making time for his family.” Cole’s tone is void of all emotion.

I bite back a moan.

The cushion of his thumb now working slow, agonizing circles over the top of my panties. Torture, this is absolute torture but in the best, most delicious way possible.

“It was dinner, not a prison sentence.”

“Yes, where is my colleague?” Silas questions, unaware of all the wicked things his son’s doing to me under the table.

“He went to find my brother,” I grit out. My hands grasp the armrests, doing my best to keep my composure. Beyond soaked for him.

Cole shoots me a secret little look. It’s devilish before shoving my panties aside and inserting a finger between my folds without permission.

My nails scrape, digging into the fabric, loving his touch. “They should be back soon though.” Proud of myself when I managed to spit out the words.

I choke out a cough. Disguising my moans of pleasure when he adds another. My legs squeeze around his hand as he works me with skilled precision. Completely detached from his father’s presence.

Silas scoffs with callous heartlessness. Unamused by Abram’s life choices.

I force my eyes to stay open when all they want is to slam closed. Cole adds a third finger.

Oh god!

It’s too much, too intense, I’m—

With lightning speed, Cole’s hand pulls out from between my thighs. One shoves a napkin over my mouth while the other holds the back of my head in place. A mixture of screams and coughs rips past my lungs as I finish in time with Abram and Finn stepping back in.

Cole pats my back. “Poor thing must have choked on something.” Speaking only to appease the room.

“I came to take my son back,” Silas says in way of greeting his partner.

The acid in his tone enough of a distraction that it pulls everyone’s attention away from me and back to Silas.

That satisfied, cutthroat gleam in Cole’s eye only for me. Pulling the napkin away from my mouth after my orgasm settles.

His mouth pulls to the side. “Finished?”

“Mmhmm,” I mumble. Taking the glass of water he hands me, I down it. My throat suddenly dry. His eyes too interested, too focused on me.

“Son!”

That one word snaps as it pulls. Silas is long past losing his patience. Thankfully, it takes Cole’s attention away from me.

The intensity in those cerulean eyes as alluring as willing to fully pull me under. Deep down, I already know I drowned for him a long time ago…

“The time, son.”

“I know, I know,” Cole gripes, rising from his spot.

His eyes catch me one final time after thanking Abram for dinner. The look makes my stomach squeeze. The question hidden in them is unexpected.

Something settles low in my gut, not butterflies, more like apprehension.

Cole’s quiet gaze is asking if he can stay the night, stay in my room. My bed. I should deny him, but my hesitation is short lived. Not lasting for more than a few seconds before I’m giving in.

The heaviness in his eyes a fraction less harsh. Watching with hawklike clarity as my chin barely shifts, lifting.

Yes. It says, you can stay.

Forty-Four

Rory

FINGERS TRACE MY SKIN, but I tense. These hands shouldn’t be here. They’re cold and unfeeling. They don’t have permission to touch me or be in my room.

Slowly they get higher, raking their way up my thighs. The closer they come to my mound, the more my body stills. Locking up.

My breath holds, tightening as I will them to go away and for this to be over. They move higher past my belly button. Relief washes over me, but it’s short lived. Just when I think nothing’s going to happen, they find my neck.

Squeezing as they wrap around. My fingernails claw at their wrist, willing them to stop. If only I was stronger, if only I could yell for help, if only—

I spring up in my bed. Choking out air as my hands find my collarbone. The nightmare starting out as a memory of my past and ends with the sketchy man from the other side of town.

Both violent in their histories. Each one as painful as they are substantial.

“Shhhh,” Cole coaxes beside me. I’d forgotten in my urgency that I’d let him stay the night.

Deep breaths, Rory. Count to five, in. Hold it. Count to five, release.

I rest my head on my knees as he continues to work slow circles down my back. Kneading my strained flesh. “It’s over, you’re fine.”

He continues soothing me as I take in full gulps of air.

Patiently he waits, reassuring me the entire time as my heart settles back to a somewhat even speed.

“It’s alright, Princess.”

I grip at the comforter, embarrassed but also ashamed. He shouldn’t have seen this. Shouldn’t have to know that certain things still plague my memories disguised as dreams.

“You can go home if you want.”

He tucks a finger under my chin, lifting it to his eye level. The soft glow of the lamp shadowing part of his face. Defining his cheekbones and making him look that much more intimidating as his lips thin.

“I’m not going anywhere, Princess. Ever.”

My eyes ping-pong, looking for doubt. Promise? I have the urge to ask but bite my tongue instead.

The truth in his gaze fights me to stay still. The honesty of that statement hits me but it’s the affection in his stare that’s fighting me. Those are saying more than words ever could. Shining with something more. Something deeper.

I pull away, looking down at my toes.

How can one person make me feel nothing and simultaneously everything at the same time?

His fingers brush my chin again, raising it. That thing in his eyes shifts to something else, not carrying as much warmth as before.

He tugs me closer, and I follow easily. His touch is dizzying. Swallowing, I try to regain my fastly dwindling composure when his eyes fall to my mouth. His throat bobs just as roughly.

“Are you going to kiss me?” I whisper, too close.

My eyelids turn heavy, breath erratic.

He matches my tone. “Is that what you want?”

I hesitate, only a second, no, not even that long, but it’s enough that Cole’s pulling back.

“Why’d you do that?” I gasp, suddenly angry.

Exhaling out his nose, he spins me to his side. Facing me away as he tucks an arm over my stomach. The side of my head hits the pillow as my back falls into the heat of his naked torso.

“When you kiss me, I don’t want there to be a pause. A doubt, a flicker of hesitation in your mind. I only want your mouth on mine when you’re all in, baby.”

He’s annoyed and yet his hold strengthens, somehow tugging me closer to him still.

“Now go to sleep. We have a drive tomorrow.”

Forty-Five

Rory

WE’VE BEEN DRIVING FOR what feels like days but has only been a few hours. Finn racing the speedometer the entire way. Not once in my entire life have I ever gotten carsick. Today may be the first.

My stomach pops with little bundles of nerves. That gas station burrito and soda earlier probably not helping either.

“Jesus Finn,” Hailey wails, grabbing onto the seat in front of her. “I’d like to make it there alive!”

She’s sitting in the seat next to mine. Cole’s in the passenger seat up front and Eli in the third row. Having the entire back to himself after he claimed he needed the extra legroom.

My ass! I know he planned on sleeping too, wanting the space to stretch out. With Finn driving, that idea is short lived. For any of us.

I reach for my stomach, that familiar frothy sensation taking over again. This one has nothing to do with Finn’s driving and everything to do with Cole’s arm. Without crushing it, he somehow manages to nudge it between his seat and the door. Reaching behind and finding my calf, he gives it a squeeze before letting go.

He’s been doing things like this on and off the entire drive. Touching me randomly, nothing long, just here and there.

Hailey’s face telling, same as every time she catches it. Which is why I don’t bother giving her the attention again. That and my face is hot.

Finn said we needed this getaway. To me, it just sounded like an excuse for one of his not-so-brilliant, brilliant ideas. Spring break is only a month away.

No one fought him, though, because, well, he’d already mapped it out. All we have to do is show up with a duffel and pillow in hand for the weekend.

My brother said it’s supposed to be a surprise for everyone, but I have my suspicions Cole knows where we’re headed. Not from Finn telling him but him figuring it out on his own.

It was about an hour into the trip. Right after we’d pulled off a major highway and started down a line of never-ending back roads. Cole stopped studying every passing road sign like he was trying to commit it to memory and started playing on his phone.

Barely lifting his head since.

Coincidentally, also putting in headphones when Hailey suggested road games.

“We made it!” Finn hollers. Hitting that four-hour mark like clockwork.

Everyone openly sighs their relief except for Cole when the car drops below eighty.

It’s a few hours shy of midday, the sun high as we come to the edge of the winding gravel road. The temperatures are warmer here. Not a huge amount but enough for a light jacket instead of an oversized one. We also got lucky with the forecast. A rare warm front coming in this week.

The house is picturesque. Craftsman-style beams shade the oversized porch underneath. Split shake siding, somewhere between a dusty gray and pale blue covering the entire exterior. Two rocking chairs on the front and a flagpole off to the side.

And if that’s not enough, the view behind is as picture worthy. Mountains, off in the distance, with snow-topped peaks. Placed as if planted by Mother Nature herself around the house.

It’s as flawless as it is breathtaking. Something off a postcard.

I’ve never seen mountains not only this grand or close, but at all. We didn’t have them where Lillian and I lived. The Caspers’ house is also too far away from anything but the skyscrapers of the city.

“Remind me again why we couldn’t have flown?” Eli grumbles, yanking out his bag from the trunk.

“Never would have had the same impact,” Finn defends. Widening his legs and putting his hands on his waist, he takes a deep whiff. “All part of the experience.”

“The impact on my lunch, you mean,” Eli complains under his breath, handing me my things.

The amount of energy he has alarming after driving the whole way. I’m sure I’d have the same pep too, if I shot back energy drinks like they’re the air I need to live.

“Welcome to casa la Casper,” Finn says, nudging my shoulder.

My head snaps to the side, charging after his retreating steps. “Wait, what? You own this place?”

“Correction.” His footing stops. “We own this place.”

I don’t believe what he says until I notice how his one eye pinches, trying to hold back his irritation. Is that because of me? Because even after all this time, I’m still struggling to accept this one thing.

Everyone else around seems to of done so, so why can’t I?

Before I can say another word, Finn’s already climbing the one step to get inside. Somehow my comment put a damper on his once energized mood.

If Hailey doesn’t get it, she at least doesn’t express it. Her face one of sympathy as she passes. The screen door smacks behind her.

The metal rod on the flagpole clinks. Clanking at the hardware on the rope that holds the flag at the top. My neck arches, following as it willows, blowing in the breeze.

“Ya comin’?” Eli hollers, holding the door.

Cole already having gone inside, no doubt to claim his room before Hailey could snag the best one.

“Knowing your brother, he’s got a busy day planned for us all tomorrow.”

“Coming,” I yell, unmoving.

I hear the smack of the screen again. Eli headed inside with everyone else.

I do what Finn did earlier, far less dramatic, but take a lungful of this new air, now that it’s only me. It’s crisp, clean. I like it.

The view is stunning, but something I can’t explain settles below my belly button. It’s not like the nerves earlier in the car. This is something else, new.

Anticipation, I hope.

“Chop-chop, woman,” Hailey hollers, sunglasses over her nose as she peeks her head back out. “We already lost out. Cole called dibs on the room with the best view.”

Shoving that sense of dread aside, I sling my bag over my shoulder, a grin taking over my face as I meet her. Ready to make memories with my friends.

If only I had listened to my gut…

Forty-Six

Rory

WE’RE ON A MOUNTAIN. Not as impressive as the ones behind the house because those are too far away. But this one’s still of dramatic size.

Most of the morning we spent hiking at an incline. The trek, combined with the dense air, had my insides begging for their grave by the time we got to our destination.

Hailey made her disapproval known the entire way up. Somehow finding the extra oxygen to speak aloud what we were all thinking. Her criticism settles some when I agree to go shopping with her tomorrow.

Selfishly I do that more so for myself. I run quite a bit, so I like to think I’m in decent shape, but this has me second-guessing myself.

The climb to get here hadn’t been easy, but once we get to the top and I see the view… every step was worth it.

I breathe in and it feels like an expansion of my soul. The view’s breathtaking. The blue sky trails parallel to the lingering mountain. The ground miles below our feet. Trees scatter for miles between a valley, a town not far off from there.

We decide to break up here for lunch before heading back down. Everyone has an appetite after the journey.

We’re about halfway back down when I hear a smack and an “ewww.” Hailey wiping off the dead gnat from her arm.

A few minutes later and Finn is doing the same. The swarm around us getting worse.

“Wait,” Eli says, stopping. “Do you hear that?”

Everyone quiets, listening, but then he takes off past a group of thick trees. Each one of us follows because what else is there to do?

Hailey and I are the last in the group to make it. The hellhounds charging forward.

By the time we push past the last set of foliage, Finn is already arching his back. Howling out his excitement. This hidden oasis as impressive as the mountaintop but in different ways.

Water runs, rushing past as it cascades down the rocks to another pool of water below. The leaves thick on the trees, allowing a single ray of light to push through. That one band brightening the entire watering hole.

High-fiving, the boys’ grins turn mischievous. Stripping out of their shoes and shirts before jumping into nothing. They disappear into the open air before loud splashes sound. More shouts of glee follow.

How’d we get lucky enough to find not one but two stunning spots in one day?

I look at Hailey, silently asking her if she wants to join, and she shrugs, grabbing my hand. Running with our arms out wide, we do the same as the boys. Free-falling before plummeting into the water below.

“Alright, the girls got some backbones.” Finn whistles as I push the hair from my face coming back up.

The water is chillier than I expect. Not unsettling but enough that you notice. The sun is helping warm the top layer, at least.

My feet kick, swimming over to the shallower ground where the boys are.

We all mess around, enjoying the water for a while after that. It’s a nice break from all the hiking earlier.

The boys rotate turns. Climbing up the rocky incline and jumping back into the waterfall.

Hailey jumps one more time while I do two before calling it quits. Settling for sunbathing on an outstretched rock. I’m having fun but my already sore muscles from the hike don’t need the extra punishment.

My eyes are closed, head tilted back, enjoying the heat of the sun when I hear someone swim over. Cracking them, I watch as Eli squeezes out the extra water in his shorts before taking a spot beside me.

“Having fun?”

“Yeah, just tired. My legs needed a rest,” I joke, not kidding. “What about you?”

He leans back on his elbows. “The same.”

From here, we have the perfect view. We can see everything, but because of the angle of the limbs on the tree, we’re partially obscured from everyone else.

I watch as Finn grabs an unassuming Hailey at the top of the waterfall. Her screams and his laughter heard the entire way until they splash together at the bottom.

“He’s watching you.”

I don’t answer Eli, already feeling and knowing who he’s talking about.

Cole’s floating neck-deep around the base of the waterfall. He never directly looks over, but I can sense his stares even if he never turns his head.

That familiarness sweeping over me since I’ve climbed up here. Now that Eli’s here, they come more steadily. Awareness dawns every few minutes or so.

We don’t say anything for a while after that. Content with leaving him to his thoughts while I enjoy the sun on my skin.

By the time he opens his mouth again, my clothes are mostly dry, other than my shoes. Both Hailey and I forgot to take those off in our urgency to jump in.

I think he’s going to say something, but a sigh is the only thing to come out. This isn’t a regular sigh, though, this one has weight like he has something on his mind.

It’s not like Eli to keep things from me, so whatever it is, it must be big.

Kicking the tips of my shoes together, I debate on whether it’s worth it to take them off or go with it. I’ve survived this long with soggy socks, so what’s a little longer?

Never mind, screw it.

I’m just starting to untie the laces when I hear his words bounce off my back.

“It’s him, isn’t it?”

My fingers still on the knot.

There’s a difference in his tone, one that I’ve never heard from Eli before. There’s an added bite, almost like jealousy. I lean back, forgetting about my shoes.

Our gazes connect, holding.

My blood beats, pounding in my veins.

Eli pours out his heart. The yearning in his eyes says everything without having to say anything at all. Years’ worth of buildup, tender as it floods. Rushing out before me.

I take it all, feeling every last all-consuming piece. Change, everything’s changing right before my eyes. I’m aware of his every emotion. Any and all the things he’s wanted to say but never has.

He doesn’t have to because I feel them. The yearning, his passion, every desire. I understand. It’s as raw as it is all-consuming.

Wholly and completely do I agree, feeling the same…

I sympathize because the way he’s looking at me right now is the same way I look at someone else. The one person who’s carried my fucked-up heart in their clutches since the very beginning.

Long before I even knew what love meant, he’s had it this whole time. I didn’t even realize…

“Eli…”

His head cuts sharply to the side. “Save it.”

I want to say something, make this right somehow, but what more is there to say than what little already has been? He admitted aloud the truth.

It’s him.

Eli’s resentful, but I also know it’s not all directed at me, mostly at himself.

I understand because I know what it’s like to lie to yourself every day. Telling yourself that these feelings don’t exist, that they mean nothing. Faking smiles while on the inside you’re being crucified.

The heartbreaking part is Eli would have taken whatever I would have been willing to give. I know this because I just saw it. In his eyes, a small piece of me is better than no piece at all.

He deserves better, entitled to someone who’s willing to give him their all. More than a sliver, the scrap of what I can. Eli will find his person; it just isn’t me.

Forty-Seven

Rory

“DO WE HAVE ANY more marshmallows?”

On a sigh, Cole pulls out an unopened bag from beside his seat and tosses them. Smacking Finn dead center in the face.

“What was that?” Cole encourages vainly. Finns grumbled something under his breath but is now as quiet as a church. “That’s what I thought.” Cole’s focus back on roasting his marshmallow.

After the adventurous day, we all came back to the house. The boys fired up the grill, cooking burgers outside while the girls made the sides inside.

By the time we’re done eating, the sun has started to set. A chillier air settles in, so we decide to use the firepit in the back.

Changing into warmer clothes, we all find seats around the Adirondack chairs. The wood pops, crackling and hissing in the pit. The flickering flames heat my skin.

I take a bite of my s’more. The gooey graham cracker, chocolate, marshmallow combo is as sticky as it is sweet.

I look around the group, something about this moment feels so right, almost perfect even. Having this type of friendship something I never imagined receiving. Everyone having fun, joking, and laughing around the fire.

Even Eli is chatty, well friendly, for him. It’s been a little awkward, but I know he’s been putting on a brave face trying. So, that’s what I do too.

One day I know we’ll be back to how we’d been before because that’s how Eli is. Forever the loyal guy who has my back and lets me borrow from his book collection like when we were kids.

Cole’s tongue pokes out, and his wolflike eyes flicker my way, catching my gawk. Taking his thumb, he wets it before wiping off the rest of the melted chocolate smudge in the crease.

The embers dance off his pupils before he drags his attention back to the pit. The smokiness in them makes my nerves jump.

The large open flame burns but it’s incomparable to the blaze I have for him inside my chest.

“Anyone want to play Truth or Dare?”

Finn’s suggestion will most likely end in disaster, but I could use the distraction. “I’m game,” I say, too eager.

“Alright, lil sis, you’re up first then. Truth or dare?”

I don’t trust Finn with either choice, especially since he has that devilish glint in his eye. Rubbing his hands together, waiting with anticipation.

I take the coward’s way out. “Truth.”

“When was the last time you lied?”

That’s an easy one. “When I told you I wanted to play this game.”

Several snickers bounce around the group. I shake them off because it’s the truth.

Finn raises his can, tossing back the rest and crushing it in his grip. “Touché, lil sis. Touché.”

Grabbing at another from inside the cooler, he tosses one at Eli when he raises a hand. Wanting a fresh one as well.

“You’re up.”

Scanning, I rotate my head, deciding on who I want my victim to be. “Eli, truth or dare?” No better time than the present to get this friendship back on the right track.

He doesn’t hesitate. “Truth.”

“What’s your fetish?”

“Ohhh, this is about to get real good, real fast.” Finn gleams, leaning forward in his chair with anticipation.

The side of Eli’s mouth tugs, but he doesn’t look away. Thinking it over for only a moment before saying, “guess you could say it seems I have a thing for screwing redheads.”

“I knew it,” Finn says, jumping out of his seat. “Fucking called it, man.”

Eli raises his drink, saluting with it before it goes to his lips, not denying anything. His eyes dance following Finn’s bouncy antics but that’s not why they look amused. I can’t be sure but it’s almost like there’s a secret hidden behind them.

“Never trust the quiet ones, they’re always the freakiest,” Finn spouts off, finding his seat again.

“My turn,” Eli interjects before Finn can say more. Rotating his head, he looks for the next victim like I had. Only his isn’t genuine, already having a target in mind. Gaze unmoving as soon as they land on… “Cole. You’re up, buddy, truth or dare?”

“Dare.”

Iceman may not seem nervous but I am. Wiping my hands down the legs of my jeans to dry off the sweat.

“I dare you to say one honest thing about everyone in the group.” Eli’s eyes blazing as he settles in his chair.

A tension runs between them. On the outside, they both look composed, but it silently hums all around us. Building, but it’s not quite ready yet.

You’d think one would be nervous about spouting opinions but that isn’t Cole’s style. If anything, Eli has given him a pass to admit what he really thinks without repercussions.

Cole’s once pursed lips are now smiling, but it’s destructive.

Hailey squirms in her seat. He starts on the closest person and works his way around the circle. “Your maintenance is as unbelievably high as your desire to fuck Finn.”

Beer foam spouts from Finn’s mouth. Still coughing out his shock, he doesn’t get the chance to get a word in because Cole’s already moved on to him.

“Finn, you once told me these exact words, and it takes one to know one, so now I’m telling you. You really think I’m that stupid?”

Moving on. I swallow. Unfortunately, that means I’m next.

I’m the only one he seems to hesitate on. His Adam’s apple bobs up and down like he can’t decide if he wants to say it or not. In front of our audience.

There’s a heaviness that settles there.

Squaring his jaw, it diminishes into something else. Equally as honest, just not as substantial. “It broke me the day you left. Both times.”

My stomach flattens, sucking to my ribs. I don’t think I have any air left in my body, or if I do, it’s stagnant. Cole had said that softer, but it doesn’t make it any less painful to hear.

A weight settles around the fire at his omission. I can feel everyone else watching me, gauging my reaction, but I can’t move.

Both times…

He’d been dared to tell the truth, but he doesn’t give me a fair amount of time to react. Those piercing blue eyes break contact as he moves on to the only person left before I give a full blink.

Eli’s shoulders double in width.

“I understand the appeal, but what’s mine is mine. And honestly, you can try but I’ll always win.”

What the hell?

Again, Cole doesn’t allow the chance for anyone else to react or speak. “Hailey, truth or dare?”

“Truth,” she squeaks. Understandably hesitant.

Some sort of power trip radiating off Cole now.

The words fly out venomous. “Have you done us all a favor and actually let Finn inside your pussy yet? Because if you haven’t realized, he did all this for you.”

He’s talking about our trip. Finn had done this for her?

My still-stunned reaction from Cole’s earlier confession doubles now. More surprise sprouting. My reaction is similar to Hailey’s gaping mouth. She hadn’t known either.

“Guessing by your reaction, I’m thinking not, on either part,” Cole muses, unsympathetic.

If words are poison, then with the way he’s acting right now, Iceman’s making sure he won’t be the one choking on them.

Hailey visibly shrinks in size. Her frame small, bundling herself into her chair. Cole’s posture unwavering the entire time as her head whips back and forth between them.

“What is he talking about? Is what he’s saying true?”

“My turn,” Finn snarls, jumping in, avoiding Hailey’s questions and her confused face.

My skull throbs.

Groaning, I knew this game was a bad idea. Too many overshares are happening. We’re supposed to be having fun, not going after each other’s throats. I should’ve kept my mouth shut.

Anticipation grows as the apprehension suffocates. That something that’s been building in the air, almost ready. Don’t ask me how but I can tell it’s coming, and it’s not going to be good.

Finn’s wrath targets only Eli. “Does Rory know how you feel? How you’ve liked her since all the way back. Even when we were kids?” Not giving him the truth or dare option. Going straight for the jugular.

My panic inflates even as a lull peacefulness settles in. No movements, not a peep. A stilled quiet of nothingness before Hailey’s sharp inhale breaks the barrier. Everything happens in double time after.

I swear I hear something crack over in Cole’s direction, but whatever it was, he doesn’t seem to feel it. Waiting to hear the response.

That monumental something finally makes its appearance.

Cole’s eyes are wired, his stare murderous now.

Yes, that’s what Eli has just said to his question. Yes. The one word bounces, ricocheting off my ears.

Someone else sucks in a breath now—wait, that’s me. I’m the one gasping because Eli said yes. His honesty rubs my lungs raw.

He waves his hand, jaded but downplaying it. “We’re only friends.”

Eli catches my eye and Cole’s lip curls and I hear the rumble from his throat. Other than that, he stays murderously still.

“Right, Rory?”

The muscles in Cole’s arms tense, pulsing with his restrained anger, but he doesn’t move from his spot. His foot now tapping in place.

I can feel it. Iceman’s one bad puff away from going off, but he stays. I know he’s waiting on me. Eager for my response. Same as they all are.

How did we end up like this?

Finally, like a can filled with too much pressurized air, the strain becomes too tight and Cole explodes. Erupting before I get the chance to answer.

“Fuck this,” he snarls.

Making up his own mind.

Uneasiness prickles on my neck as I watch his retreating form disappear inside. It’s short lived because how dare he?

He hadn’t given me a chance. Coming up with his own theory before I could attempt to shed some light. A coward is not something I’d ever think to call him but that’s what his actions show.

Bowing out just as things start to get real.

What a cop-out.

Taking my drink, I pour it over the flames. They hiss and then they die.

“Party’s over,” I demand.

Like the smoke reacts to the ash, I do the same. Emerging through the fog as I step inside. This thing going on between Cole and me just needs another spark.

And I’m not done fuming.

Forty-Eight

Cole

“YOU’RE A COWARD!”

Her footsteps are surprisingly light for how much spite she carries in that one sentence.

“…Well?” She storms, coming farther inside the bedroom. “Are you going to say something, or are you going to leave again before letting me finish?”

If this is her being lenient, then I’m at her mercy.

Her head shakes her displeasure when I continue to stare at nothing. “I knew it.” Her tongue clicks. “Coward.” Her temper covering the disappointment in her tone.

My jaw steels. Finally giving her want she wants, facing her head-on. “What do you want me to say, Rory? Huh? Enlighten me, please, because right now I feel like I’m losing my goddamned mind!”

Her arms cross as her lips smash together, silent even as that storm continues to ignite behind her eyes.

“I want you to tell me the truth,” she says defiantly, stepping into me. “I want you to tell me why you left, why you keep coming back? Stop being a coward and finally give me a straight answer.”

The air as charged as the electric sparks that fire between us. She’s not backing down and I don’t want her to.

“Tell me what this is between us. Give me some insight, Cole—please!” Her misery stabs, hitting me right in the heart. “You want to know what I know? I know that no matter how hard I try, I can’t let you go.” Her hand grasps at her chest. “I’ve tried, but I can’t.”

My mouth curves into a sneer. “So what?”

“So what?” She mimics, swallowing as she chokes back her surprise. “’So what?’ Is that all you have to say to me?”

My eyes widen, igniting in a blaze. She wants the truth, fine.

“What more do you want from me? Do you want me to say that I love you, that I’m in love with you? Because it’s true, all of it. I know this with every single fiber of my being. And nothing and no one can change that fact because it’s true, and it’s never going to stop being true. Even on my very last breath, it will always be you, Rory. Always!”

My gasps as winded as they are ragged by the time I finish, but I don’t regret saying a thing.

I stare her down. “That good enough for you?”

Her face slips and it’s like a dozen daggers to my front. The energy she had before dissipating before my eyes. Shifting into something else.

Finally… “You love me?”

My hands fist, I exhale out my nose as I watch her. My heart thunders, racing a million miles a minute. “That’s what I said, didn’t I?”

She’s staring at the middle of my chest now; my erratic breathing matches hers. Her eyelids stutter, mind scrambling for an answer only she carries.

“Eight.”

Angling her head up. “What?”

“Eight steps. That’s all it took for you to walk out on me. Eight measly steps out of my bedroom and I’d thought I’d lost you forever.”

Her voice catches. “You counted?”

“Yes.”

Searching those silver eyes, they radiate, shining under the thickness of her lashes. Probing, while the entire time, my throat stays locked.

“And you love me?”

Another beat.

I nod. “Yes.”

She’s nothing and then everything all at once. The movement as easy as breathing. Pulling me down into her.

No hesitation, kissing me with the passion of everything she is. Her arms snake around my neck, pulling me into her. I go readily. Kissing her back with the same heat.

Kissing the girl who’s mine. The one I’ve loved since the very beginning. My Princess, always.

Bending, I pick her up behind the knees and carry her to the bed. Laying her down, our mouths never break from the other. Her kiss tastes like a reward, like coming home after months of nothing but dead ends and heartache.

Her blonde hair frames around her head like a halo, giggling as she pulls away. I groan my disapproval, sliding us farther up the bed. That softness in her voice finding its way out again.

She pushes back a lock of hair from my forehead. Resting her hands back on either side of my face again once she’s done. Rory’s eyeing me, but it feels deeper than that…

“I love you, Cole Kellet.”

Her words are like the antidote for an elixir I never knew I needed. Each syllable breathes life, restoring me. Reviving me back to a wholeness I didn’t think possible.

Rory loves me.

The completion of that one sentence unbreaking now that she’s spoken it aloud. Never again can she refuse those words. I won’t allow her.

Sitting up, we help each other out of the top half of our clothes. Bare chested, she falls back into the comforter.

Goose bumps pebble her skin. Starting at her belly button, the tips of my fingers skim, working their way past her breast and to her collarbone.

Her back arches off the bed as my tongue follows a similar pattern. Her fingers run themselves through my hair. Nipples rising to their peaks as I guide my mouth over her bare flesh. My tongue glides, wetting her before blowing hot air over her oversensitive skin.

Bending over the top of her, I give each of them a nice flick with my mouth. Her moans are soft but carry the plea of her desire.

I do it again, adding a little more pressure while I undo the zipper to her jeans. She hisses, her panting growing more frantic when I slide both those and her underwear off.

Leaning back on my knees, I take her in, appreciating every beautiful contour of her body. A pair of perfectly round tits, flat stomach, and hips with a slight curve.

Bracing my knee between her legs, she widens for me. Her allure continues. Beautifully swollen and pink, her folds glisten for me.

All for me, only me.

I growl, needing a taste, before I run my tongue from back to front. Savoring every last drop of her sweet pussy.

“Mmhmm, delicious,” I appreciate. Wanting another, I go in for another sample, starved from not tasting her for months too long.

Rory’s arms stretch out, denying me.

Her coy smirk tells me exactly what she wants. She doesn’t take her back off the comforter, extending her arm, she latches on to the buckle of my pants. Popping the brass button as she helps remove the last of my clothes.

Skin to skin. I take my time savoring every part of her body before flipping her over so she’s on top of me. Her hair wild, falling like rippling waves, cascading on both sides of my face.

Her bottom lip juts out, slightly fuller than her top, and my hand snakes. Finding the back of her neck, I pull her mouth back to mine, needing another taste. Earlier not enough.

“Absolute perfection,” I admire, arching back only enough to see her eyes as they flutter open again.

My thumb strokes, running along the edge of her mouth, right at the crease. Appreciating her for all that she is. She kisses the pad lightly.

“Mine,” I breathe. All mine.

Rolling back, we become a mess of limbs and sheets. Enjoying the feel, the taste. Savoring one another to our heart’s content.

Time doesn’t exist for us right now. It’s just her and I.

Her back arches off the mattress again, my dick finding her lower set of lips. Grabbing at her thighs, I insert myself, entering easily.

“Fuck,” I hiss.

Needing this, missing the feel of being inside her.

Her walls clench around me, and I bite back another hiss. She’s too sweet, perfect.

Attuned to one another, we move as one, her fingernails dig, scratching at my back. Breaking past the top layer of my skin. I know I’ll hurt tomorrow, but right now, I couldn’t give a fuck.

Not with the way she keeps moaning my name like I’m her god.

Over and over again, she chants, tucking her chin into the hollow of my neck. Legs wrapped around my waist, she sits riding my cock. Her chest rises in falls with each new hit.

Her walls tighten, gripping around the base. It’s as excruciating as it is pleasurable.

She’s close, but so am I.

Lifting her face from its spot, her eyes are molten, thick in their desire for me. Only me, I silently tell her. I thrust with more force. I’m the only one who can make you feel like this. Another thrust. Me, only me!

Gripping her hips with too much force, I hold her in place before slamming back again. “Mine,” I tell her, doing it again and again until her eyes roll back.

Ruining her for anyone else as we come together.

Her fingers lazily skim, tracing over my collarbone. Her chin rests just below that.

“What are you thinking about?”

She peeks up at me with a sated shine to her face. “How do you know I’m thinking about anything? Maybe I’m just enjoying being with you.”

Her comment has my heart beating so loud I’m surprised she can’t hear with how she’s lying. Or maybe she can, but who cares?

We’re both still completely naked, so I give her ass a nice little smack when she still doesn’t comment. Her eyes heat and it has my dick stirring beneath the blanket.

“Talk to me, Princess.”

Her finger stops. “You make me reckless.”

My grin turns saccharine, and she swats at my chest playfully. Positive she can feel the stiffness of my recklessness on her thigh.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“What did you mean, then?” I ask, suddenly alarmed when she rolls onto her back. Why is she shutting herself away from me?

She bites at her lip, and I slowly pull it from her teeth, staring her down.

“Don’t look at me like that. It’s not fair,” she groans. “You don’t play fair when you do that.”

What, grinding my hips and perfectly aligning myself back between her thighs? I wouldn’t call that unfair. Her desire’s there too. Glistening as it rewets my cock and I’m not even inside yet.

I kiss that spot right below her ear and she moans, “Iceman…”

“What?” I play innocent. Trailing kisses while giving her neck a nice little suck.

The bruises she’d gotten from that asshole are barely visible anymore, but you can still see them if you look hard enough. Rory’s never said it, but I know she’s been self-conscious about them since it’s happened.

Next time she looks in the mirror, though, mine will replace the bad memories in her mind with good.

Plus, it’s only fair. Marking her like she’d marked me on my birthday.

Tit for tat.

She pushes me away. “We can’t,” she says sternly, having more willpower than me.

“Why not?” I ask, getting another nibble in on the other side before she does it again. “What’s wrong?”

“You need to go buy condoms; we can’t keep being reckless like this.” She crosses her arms defiantly, but it only causes her tits to push up on her chest. “Cole… I’m serious.”

I blink past the distraction. “Baby, I will literally go out and buy the biggest box of fucking condoms I can find if it means that when I get back, you’ll let me have you as many times as I want.”

Her eyes turn from silver to a milky gray. “Deal.”

I don’t think I’ve ever driven so recklessly in my life. Pulling up to the nearest convenience store I could find on my phone and doing what I’d promised.

It’s worth it in the end.

Rory keeps her promise to me as well when I get back. Riding my cock long past morning and into most of the next day.

Hailey never ends up getting that shopping trip with her.

Forty-Nine

Rory

“AM I LATE?” I ask, taking a seat next to Hailey. Shimmying out of my jacket. “Have I missed anything good?”

“Nah, they’re still warming up.”

I sigh in relief. I’d been on the verge of panic. Winded, I thought for sure I was going to be late. Work has been killing me lately.

“Nice paint.”

Hailey always paints her cheeks for every game. That concept isn’t new. Only, what’s different this time is the number nine she’s painted in bright red instead of the lines like usual.

“Nice jersey,” she mimics back just as cheekily.

I roll my eyes, but it doesn’t carry any weight because I’m already grinning.

“Do you know how many people have wished they could wear Cole Kellet’s jersey?”

“Probably pretty comparable to the amount who want to wear Finn’s.”

She snorts. “Except the difference is no one’s actually had the pleasure of wearing Cole’s sacred number two before.”

Her focus never leaves the court, while mine is only on her. Is she saying what I think she is?

“You’re the first,” she adds as if reading my mind.

Am I that transparent?

“Get used to it, babe.” She taps her shoulder with mine good-heartedly before angling it down. “Because I don’t think you have a chance of changing now.”

I follow where her head angles. A pair of familiar ice-filled eyes find me all the way from the court. That cocky tug on his lips as his eyes lower to my chest ignites a flurry of sparks underneath the jersey.

His feet are planted, ready for the jump ball, but he doesn’t seem to have a care in the world that his team’s undefeated. Or that this is the second to last game before postseason. His sole target on me and how I’m representing him, choosing us.

That glimmer in his eye, because of me, for me.

I take everything he gives me. My love for him shining through at his pleasure.

I love him. I love Iceman, and the crazy, toe-curling lose-your-breath-over thing is he’s crazy enough to love me back just as hard.

We’ve had a long road, he and I. A journey that broke and tested us both. We sacrificed, failed, pushed through, and somehow ended up here. Coming out better in the end.

We did it!

Besides seeing that look of pride he wears now, the look as obvious as his smile that meets his forehead, I know I made the right choice.

With the jersey and the guy.

“Wow, I would give anything for someone to look at me like that,” Hailey says, inhaling past her teeth.

I swear I hear her whistle but it’s so low I’m second-guessing myself.

She grabs at my wrist, tone deadly serious. “Like literally, anything. Do you realize how lucky you are?”

I look back down at my guy, whose face has never wavered. Smiling, I sure do.

The final buzzer goes off and the crowd erupts. Another perfect win. KPA continues their streak, undefeated.

This game had been the most challenging by far for the season. The game was so close that they ended up going into double overtime.

Both teams had wanted it, but our boys wanted it more. Rallying together as a team when the time was called and pulling out the W.

Most of the fans have left by the time they come back out after showering and having a huddle.

My laugh contagious as the bag falls from Cole’s shoulder when he spots me charging him.

“Nice game,” I gasp, feeling light-headed after his kiss. His excitement evident in the pressure.

“Hi, Princess,” he drawls out. Dropping the single arm he had around my butt, putting me back down. His other below my chin, wanting me to see the darkness of his pupils. They were as sinful as the dirty thoughts running through his mind.

I know because I have the same ones.

“A jersey looks good on you. You, in a jersey with my name on your back, even better. We’ll see what we can do about making that permanent one day.” He finishes that last part with a wink and my insides flip.

This Cole is my favorite. Flirty, easygoing, and a hint of too much cockiness sprinkled in between. Perfect.

I bite at his bottom lip playfully when he still hasn’t dropped my jawbone. “Wanna bet on finding out if what’s underneath is any better?”

The entire perimeter of his irises blacken. “Princess, is that a challenge?”

“I dunno, you seem smart enough to figure that one out on your own.”

“Seriously,” Hailey whines.

Cole rests his chin on my shoulder as I spin around. I’d forgotten Hailey had stayed behind with me. That’s how wrapped up he makes me. Everything else simply ceases to exist.

“You guys are so unfair.”

“I think Finn’s around here somewhere. Should be out soon.”

Hailey snorts, flipping her hair over her shoulder. Clearly not liking Cole’s suggestion, but I appreciate that he’s attempting to be more cordial.

“Is it too soon to ditch her?” He whispers, nuzzling my neck.

Never mind, I retract the previous statement. He’s still an asshole.

“I have the sudden urge to remind you that all those books you read can never compete with images of my cock inside you.”

My skin flushes.

“Is that a challenge, Iceman?” I sound breathy.

His grin presses into my ear. “You seem smart enough to work that out on your own.”

How is his arrogance so attractive? He doesn’t play fair. Thankful for the added support of his arm on me because I’m weak at the knees.

Hailey, is unconcerned with all this, twirling a piece of hair between her finger while typing out something on her phone.

Her brows furrow deep in concentration. “Know what? It’s whatever, I’m going to head out. See you guys tomorrow.”

That’s weird? Hailey suddenly seems distracted.

His teeth skim the bottom of my lobe. “I thought she’d never leave.” A shiver rakes my spine. “I already played my game, now, it’s time to show me what you got.”

On a fit of laughter, I take off, him following right behind.

Fifty

Rory

COLE’S GRIP ON ME tightens more than it already is, unwilling to let me go. His lips brush feverishly across my mouth, jaw and, finally, neck.

My back arches off the bookcases as his fingers slip below my belly button and into my jeans.

He bites at my chin. “Keep it down, Princess, we’re in the library after all.” He’s scolding me but I can hear the amusement there. We both know this room’s empty.

Hardly anyone ever used KPA’s library, especially not this late. The lot outside basically empty after the game was over.

Smirking, I grab at his shirt, pulling him into me, kissing him deeply. The plumpness of his bottom lip stretches as I pull it between my teeth. Tasting the faint metallic of blood.

“My girl wants it rough,” he growls. Face alive and full of conviction. Ready to give me whatever I want.

I respond by leaning in and running the tip of my tongue over his mouth. Lapping up the small amount. The smell of sulfur and desire passes my nose.

Normally I never thought I’d be into something like this, but Cole makes me crazy. Guess my type is falling for the devil himself.

An untamed, feral grunt rumbles deep in his chest. My heaves grow, panting the longer his fingers continue to torture me.

Working me savagely. In and out, in and out.

That familiar pressure builds, and just as I’m about to come, he pulls out. His mouth twists dangerously and my eyes narrow on him.

“Iceman,” I bark, beyond frustrated.

“I told you I want you to show me what you got.” His eyes glitter in the darkness. “Time to pay up, Princess.”

He must read my confusion because he clarifies seconds later.

“Just so you’re clear, I am going to fuck you against these bookshelves. Hard, savagely, and until you’re screaming my name past your lips, I won’t stop. Maybe not even then.”

A shiver rakes my skin at the anticipation. I know he’ll made good on that promise.

His mouth hooks into a curve and I know I’m in trouble.

“But I need that pretty little mouth of yours to do something for me first.”

I can feel him watching me, but I’m starstruck watching as he undoes his pants. His erection twitches, springing free before he grabs himself. Gripping at the base, he starts to move his hand.

My palms dampen, greedy with anticipation, watching. The veins around his cock as thick as they are angry.

His gaze wicked as his breathing shallows. “You want this?”

I lick my lips and his pupils blacken with the same lust-filled intensity as before in the gym. Actually, that look never left, the hunger in his eyes there long before that. Now he’s just free to act on it.

Another pump and my mouth salivates. A small bit of precum drips out. “Is this yours, baby?” His voice more strangled than before. That grittiness turning me on more than I already am.

I nod my head, unable to take my eyes off what he’s doing. Watching him as he pleasures himself.

“I need to hear you say it.”

“Ye-yes,” I stutter, hypnotized.

The look on his face one of approval, as his hand still works. Continuing to gratify himself in front of me like it’s a hobby. I gulp. I’d be okay with it if it becomes one.

“Be a good girl and get on your knees for me, Princess.”

The sound of his smirk tells me he approves when I do as he asks without hesitation. My knees finding the ground. The desire to have him disguises the greed.

My need fuels my willingness to comply.

I can feel my chest pound. My heart works faster, more blood pumps as his gaze drags over me. Liking me in this position, eyes as wicked as they are heavy.

“Now.” His hands find the back of my hair. Tugging, he angles my head so that I have to look up at him through my lashes.

The grin that crosses his face taunting.

“Suck.”

Fifty-One

Rory

“TELL ME WHAT’S GOING on in that pretty head of yours.”

Sighing, I run my fingers through Cole’s hair. We’re back at the Caspers’. His appearances regular in sleeping over since that one night.

It’s almost become routine, so much so that on the rare nights he isn’t here, the bed feels empty without him.

Cole retaliates by pinching at the fatty part of my thigh. Not letting me get away with not answering tonight.

“It’s nothing,” I squeal, rubbing at the spot.

“You’d make the worst lawyer.”

“Only to you,” I swear. He’s the sole person that can read me better than anyone. Ever. His perception has no bounds.

That limitless perception not working in my favor this evening.

“It’s a good thing I don’t plan on being one then,” I jab, sitting up in my spot.

He pinches me again, and I squirm, kicking him on a laugh. Threatening him with the floor if he does it again. It doesn’t work, Cole calling me out on my bluff. I take it one step farther then, threatening no sex for a week, and that does the trick.

“What do you want to do then? You know, after we graduate?” He asks, scooting me under his arm.

It’s the way he asks this, with such genuine interest, that unsettles me, and I’m not sure why. No one has ever cared to ask me that before, not even myself.

Before, I’d been living to make it to another day, but now I have options. Options I never dreamed of receiving.

A career, something I never pictured in my future until I came here. Now instead of having one door in front of me, I had hundreds, and they were each open. Ready and willing for me to step through whichever I choose.

It’s a little overwhelming.

“What do you want to be, you know, when we grow up?” I ask, putting the pressure on him instead. I mean for it to come off with more amusement than it actually does.

I think he can hear my uncertainty, which is why he doesn’t automatically shrug me off.

“What I’ve always been meant to be. I’ll work at Hardin, the same as Finn will. That’s the plan, always has been.”

I want to push him but stumble in my decision. It’s messed up the way we’re alike in this circumstance. Where I didn’t think I ever had one, Cole has only ever had one. The details of our futures may have been opposite, but the traps we’d both been stuck in aren’t.

I decide to press anyway. “If there wasn’t a plan. What would you have done?”

Cole sits there a moment like he’s thinking this over, so I splay his outstretched fingers on my shoulder. Playing with them to give him his time.

“I’ve never thought about it,” he admits. “I did wish I could have been an astronaut after my mom died though.”

My movements jerk to a stop. He kisses the top of my head as if to reassure me that he’s alright. Some, not all, of the uneasiness washes away after that. I know how much he misses her.

We’ve both lost our mothers at a too young age. Sure, mine had been breathing but to the world, she might as well have been dead. Now she really is.

“I thought that if I had a rocket, I’d find her somewhere up in the sky. She always joked about visiting the moon.”

I sink farther into his side. Cole’s confession is bittersweet. The once nice memory conducive to what lies ahead for Cole’s future.

The more we stay like this, the more the words tighten like a rope around my heart. Squeezing until I think it’s going to burst. A single blow right there and I’m a goner.

I’ve always been curious about Camellia. She’s an anomaly to me.

The last time I’d pushed for answers, it didn’t end up so well for either of us. Right outside this hallway, in fact. Speaking without thinking, my anger demanded answers. Unknowing at the time that his mother had committed suicide.

Since then, I’ve done my best not to pry unless he brings her up, learning my lesson. The sensitivity he has for her is understandable. She’d been the only decent parent he’d had, and then he lost her.

To make matters worse, he’d been the one to find her too.

“How come you never take this off?” He asks, flicking his pinkie at the charm on my bracelets. The crescent moon medallion dangles.

“I don’t really know.” Speaking into nothing. “I guess I promised I would always take care of it… so I have.”

It sounds stupid to hold on to it after so long, but I don’t know. The man who’d given it to me seemed so sure, and it’s one of the few gifts I’d ever received.

Blindly I gave him my loyalty.

Cole rotates it between his thumb and his index. It gleams, reflecting off the light outside the windows.

“Who gave it to you?” He’s still looking at it.

The question catches me off guard, a lot like the way he’s still examining the item on my wrist. Like he’s studying it.

“I don’t know.”

His fingers stall, eyeing me down. “You don’t know?”

“I can’t remember what his face looks like,” I tell him. Because it’s the truth. I remember the day and everything leading up to it but every time I try to picture him... nothing. Forever faceless to my memory.

A muscle in his cheek locks, something about what I’ve said he doesn’t like. I try to right it.

“It was a present. Ironically, I got it on the same day I got my book.” I got them for two completely different circumstances. Still, I’d been given them, nonetheless.

I also don’t have to specify which one because Cole not only knows which book I’m talking about but has read it.

His features pinch tighter, brows peaking in the middle. Other than that, he doesn’t vocalize his concerns. Analyzing what I said internally.

“It looks like it would hold value to someone.”

I tilt my head back, confused by the comment. What an odd observation.

“I think I keep it because it reminds me that I’m not alone.” I peek up at him. “You know?”

His eyes turn hard. “Rory, you aren’t ever alone with me.”

I appreciate the comment, but I roll my eyes. “You know that’s not what I mean.”

His mouth flattens, unappreciative, as I shift back down into his side. Resting my cheek on his chest.

“Do you ever wonder how many people are keeping secrets from you?”

I’m not sure why that question comes out. Saying it out loud before I fully have time to process it myself. Cole doesn’t make me feel weird about asking though, humoring me.

“Why do you ask?”

“It’s easier, I presume. Hiding things, burying something takes more effort. A lie is simple, as believable as it is effortless if you’re good at it.”

His hand taps at my temple. “Is this what was on your mind earlier?”

Sort of. It was, but it wasn’t, not directly at least.

I’d been thinking back to that night I went to see that book collector. I’d been too distracted with his hands around my neck to realize the truths he’d been spilling.

Something about the way he’d said those things, still not adding up. There was a truth to them that’s been trying to claw its way to the surface of my mind ever since.

He’d called me a thief but worse than that, he accused the Casper family of stealing something he thought his.

It doesn’t matter that the more I dig, the deeper I fall. The facts vet to nothing but another mystery of dead ends.

I can almost joke at the irony. The girl in my favorite book had fallen down a similar hole. Only she’d thought it wise to chase a rabbit to find her answers.

“Nothing makes sense.”

“I think it’s like why my mom always thought she’d touch the moon. She didn’t feel included here. Apart from everything instead of a part in belonging,” Cole confesses and I’m not sure how I feel about his words.

I’m not sure if they help or only make me more curious.

“Why does everything have to be so confusing?” I heave, muddled.

“Give it time. I’m sure the truth will come. It always does eventually.”

I sigh. “You think?”

His hand grips at my hip bone, predatory. “I can always distract you in the meantime if you want?” His tone wolfish.

I wiggle my butt, showing my reciprocation. A distraction might be just what I need after all.

Fifty-Two

Cole

“WHERE IS SHE?” FINN barks out the side of his mouth.

“You think my phone would be glued to my fucking hand if I knew?” I seethe, whisper-shouting right back.

Coach is talking to our team in a huddle during the time-out. We’re in the final quarter, down 30-42. His face a nice cherry tomato red as he spews insults between bits of saliva.

He’s frustrated. Well, he can join the club.

We’ve been playing like absolute worse than stepping-in-a-pile-of-horseshit shit. Our minds are not in the game, at least I know the hellhounds’ aren’t. Our distraction affecting the entire team.

“She’s never missed a game,” Eli adds, like I don’t already know this too.

I glance up at the clock. Going against my better judgment, I decide to give Rory another full minute. Sixty seconds of scoreboard clock time, not standard time. If she doesn’t respond by then, then I’m out. I know Finn will be right behind me.

I can see the lines of doubt pressed into his temple. They deepen the more time passes with no response.

Finn cares about his sister, his mind already going to the worst possible scenario. I know because that similar thought has crossed all our minds. It doesn’t have to be spoken aloud for us all to think it.

Would Rory run away again?

I want to say the chances of that are slim, but I can’t be sure and that’s stressful. How many times has she said after she turns eighteen, she’s gone? Too many to make anyone comfortable.

“I texted Hailey. She doesn’t know either,” Finn says.

That’s when things first started to shift. I’d searched for Rory up in her normal spot right before the start of the game. Same as I do every time, only this time Hailey was by herself.

She shrugged her shoulders, looking as baffled as I felt.

Trying not to overreact, I gave my girl some time, thinking she might be running late. Quarter after quarter passes, and nothing. By half, all the hellhounds are way past freaking out.

My senses are on high alert, knowing something’s wrong.

Coach is still chewing us all out, but it’s useless because you can feel the weight of defeat. It hangs in our circle like the stench of stale urine.

The team’s tired, beaten. No one has the same energy as normal. The willingness to push through the struggle of downfall isn’t there.

We have too many wins to not make it to districts, so we have that going for us, but it still sucks. Our plans for a perfect regular season stretch further out of reach.

Perfection rapidly depletes, slipping away with each new tick of the clock. We win as a team, and we lose the same way.

The shooting guard’s been acting like he’s still out with injury. His ballhandling skills are absolute trash tonight. Eli, our anchor on defense, is one more bad block away from getting his ass thrown out of the game.

And our power forward, yeah, don’t even get me started on what the fuck he’s attempting to do. He’s acting like he’s never set a screen in his life. People passing left and right.

I can agree I’m not playing my best either, but my dead grandfather could block better. And he’s been dead for twenty-plus years, buried in the Kellet family’s private mausoleum.

“That new phone I gave her has a built-in tracker. Her phone says she’s still at the Caspers’,” Eli says, trying to be helpful.

If I wasn’t so distraught over how helpful that is right now, I’d be pissed at him for setting that up. Not only because he’s disregarding Rory’s privacy but for going behind our backs.

“She left her phone last time, remember?”

“I know,” Eli says, answering Finn quietly.

Finn groans, frustrated as he tracks the unnamed faces in the stands again. Coming up empty, same as every other time before.

“Casper!” Coach’s voice booms over everything else. “Eyes on the ball, not the crowd. Focus!” Yelling at Finn when he misses another shot a little while later.

His signature bank shot coming up empty again. Each one becoming worse the more off balance he gets. The longer we play, the more he gets in his head.

Another whistle is blown, and this time, it’s Eli who’s grunting. Charging with annoyance as he takes his seat on the bench, fouling out for the rest of the game.

Not that any of it makes a difference by this point.

I can’t remember in the four years that we’ve played on this team ever doing this awful. It’s like our team has been swapped with a completely different one. This isn’t normal.

None of us are working together, we aren’t being a team. It looks bad from down here, so I can only imagine how bad it looks from the crowd’s point of view. As disappointing for them as it is to us.

We have a reputation to uphold.

My phone has been in my pocket the entire time and I haven’t felt a single vibration.

I tell myself I’m overreacting, but that’s it. I don’t believe a word of it, not when it involves the love of my life. Not when something like this has happened before.

“Anything?” Finn asks briefly in passing.

I shake my head in a no, and both of us glance up at the clock and then the score. Not to anyone’s surprise but we’re still losing, and Princess’s time is almost up.

Where the fuck are you?

Fifty-Three

Rory

I CHECK THE TIME on my phone again. Debating.

I’ve been going back and forth for a while over what to do. Should I go? Just drop it?

The longer I stay sitting here, the more time I’m wasting. My fingers drum while I’m staring at the clock. It’s going to be tight, but I think I can manage if I hurry. Time is the one thing not on my side tonight.

My indecision’s holding me back.

“Screw it,” I grumble to myself. Grabbing the book my fingers have been tapping on. After Cole’s and my talk, the other night, my thoughts have festered deepening in my mind.

I’d trusted Alma when she told me a customer had left that book sitting behind. She wouldn’t lie to me. Why she kept it and for how long, I would never know, but despite everything, she’d owned it for a period of time.

Here’s what I do know. Somehow in all of this, I ended up with the book. I also know that it had been Mr. Sketchy’s book at one point too. The small emblem on the inside he showed me gives validation to his claim.

Lorna, at one point, wanted my book as well. Tearing her way through my room and then finding it down where I’d left it in the conservatory. She hasn’t bothered me once about it since. In fact, she hasn’t done anything but keep to herself. Which is more, if not equally, suspicious, but those are questions for another time.

What I don’t know is, if it was Sketchy’s, how did it end up all the way at Alma’s? Another thing that isn’t making sense is that he’d said it had been stolen from him by someone in the family. Why would someone steal his book when the Caspers have limitless pockets?

Nothing makes sense. I can add “anymore” to the end of that sentence, but has anything ever?

I could’ve waited until after the game, but that would have only given my mind more time to make assumptions. Answers are what I want, not speculations.

Give it time, Cole had suggested. The truth will come. It always does eventually.

Well, I’m done giving it time. It’s my turn and I choose now. Charging, I leave my room, knowing exactly where I need to go to get them.

“Abram, there’s something we need to discuss.”

His head snaps up from the papers on his desk. His reaction a little too jittery, panicked almost.

I shake it off, deciding that it’s because he hadn’t been expecting the company. It plays in my favor that he’s finishing up work in his home office.

It’s the hellhounds’ last game before districts start, but I plan on making this quick, same as Abram had that day. My chest rises as my insides jab at the bones underneath. This is the same office he’d called me into when I was twelve.

It’s like stepping straight back in time.

Nothing has changed since. Floor-to-ceiling dark woods, a grand oversized desk of similar wealth on the far side, furniture and minimal decor on the other. The space is too large for one person.

The hairs on my arms stand. At the time, he’d run that conversation, sending me back home to Lillian. Tonight, it’s my turn to lead.

I’m in charge.

He pulls off his glasses, rubbing at his eyes like he’s tired when I drop the book. It lands with an impressive thud on top of his papers. Making my point known. This is now the priority.

Casually, he slides out whatever he’d been working on from underneath on a drawn-out sigh. Neatly, he shuffles them before flipping them over to their blank side. Giving me his attention only after he’s done.

Clearly, Abram doesn’t appreciate that I’ve interrupted him or my attempts to be dramatic. My eyes find the ceiling. He’ll get over it.

“You came to discuss a book?”

“Does it look familiar to you?” I ask instead, not in the mood for small talk. Not that I have the time either.

Abram hasn’t looked down. Only briefly, more out of necessity when he had to move his things. Other than that, it’s almost like he’s purposefully been avoiding looking at where the red book sits.

It automatically makes me more suspicious.

I arch a brow, clipping my chin. “Recognize it?”

He waits forty whole seconds—I count—before giving in to my probing gaze. I’m not going to back down, not from this. There’re too many things that need to be answered.

“It’s a book, Rory. I’ve seen lots of them, same as I know you have.”

Abram sounds nonchalant, casual even, but I see the lines of distress that etch his face. Some of those were already there before I’d slammed down my book, but now they deepen further.

“Why are you avoiding this one then?”

“I’m not.”

“You are,” I utter right back. “You haven’t looked at it since you fixed your papers.”

“I have.”

“You haven’t.”

My tongue grows heavy at how composed he manages to stay. Countering back to every question. We’re going in circles.

I know he’s not being truthful because I can feel how tense he is. If he knew nothing about this, then he wouldn’t be reacting this strongly to my questions.

Abram may be good at keeping his features drawn and muted, but it’s his eyes that give him away. There’s a familiarity in them.

Flipping open the book, I don’t take my eyes off him. I have to see the truth for myself.

I’m studying him, and he’s watching the page. His eyes follow along word for word as I recite the inscription. I don’t need to look. I’ve read it a thousand times before with eased boredom.

“A closed chapter does not mean the book is finished. We make our own endings.” Forever the words are ingrained in my mind. The handwritten inscription locked to the page.

Abram’s face doesn’t slip and my fist slams down on the desk, aggravated. Why is he being so evasive about this?

The force causes the lone photo sitting atop the polished wood to ricochet. The frame crashes to the ground. The photo of him, Finn, and I at the gala is now hidden underneath a wall of cracked glass.

I feel bleak. The air in this office suffocating.

I tap my finger. He follows, stunned to his spot. It moves lower down the page. Needing to see how he reacts to this last piece, not because I don’t already know the answer, but because he still hasn’t admitted to anything.

My gut already telling me I’m right.

“You wrote this. These are your initials. You’re A.C.”

For so long, I believed that stood for Alma Campbell. I thought she’d written me this note. I know now that I’d been wrong. She couldn’t have because the words had already been imprinted on the page before she’d given it to me.

These words, that message meant for someone else.

“You stole this,” I accuse, as the tip of my finger smashes back into the page. “Took it from someone after they wouldn’t sell it to you, didn’t you?” My voice finds its power. “Didn’t you!”

Abram’s eyebrows are so drawn together by this point they nearly touch. More color drains from his face. His eyes pulse, but there’s also a stillness in them. I don’t understand his reaction.

“…This book had been tossed, thrown away.” His voice suddenly sounds so far away. Distant to the present as his mind stays locked to the past.

I reel back with astonishment. “So you admit it then? You did take it.”

Mr. Sketchy wasn’t lying.

He blinks, but it’s slow. Coming back to now, “I don’t know how—”

“Why’d you do it?” I accuse, cutting him off. Never losing my fire. “You’ve never had a problem with tossing cash around before. What was so important about this one item that you just had to have it? Why?” I wheeze out my anger, accusatory. “Why, Abram?”

He pushes from his chair, rising. His emotions flipping faster than the tires of a car on a patch of ice. Abram’s eyes are ablaze even as his shoulders shake.

“I have been lenient with you because of our history, Rory, but I will not continue to let you speak to me in such a degrading way. You can leave, calm down, and then when you come back, we can have a rational conversation as adults.”

I breathe past my nose. Nostrils flaring as I push away, spinning on my heel.

“Why. Was. This. Important?” I grit through clenched teeth. Each drilled word is followed by a step closer to the desk with the same intensity.

“Rory—”

Both our heads whip to the side, hearing the same earsplitting, loud crash of noise somewhere past his office.

Abram’s hand shoots out in warning. Already rounding his desk, he says, “Stay here, don’t move. I’ll go check it out.” Each step more urgent than the last.

His concern toward me shifts, completely overshadowing the apprehension of our argument. Leaving to go track down the noise that had made the frames on the door rattle in its wake.

My hand is on the knob, ready to follow, when something tugs at my chest at the last possible second. Turning back, I make quick strides to his desk. My intention to take back my book.

Abram may have stolen it, but it’s still mine.

I’m about to touch it when my hand shifts diagonally toward the papers he’d turned over earlier. I don’t know why they move in that direction; they just do.

Before I can think about what I’m doing, they’re already flipped back over, and my eyes are skimming. It’s some sort of report, but it’s an unusual one. Not something I’d assume Abram to have for Hardin.

More scanning.

I don’t really understand what I’m looking at until I see three letters. Bold and in thick black ink on the last page.

It’s an acronym for a test, but that doesn’t stop the way my chest locks and my lungs freeze, realizing what this is. My eyes move faster now, going to the very bottom.

I can’t move, my lids widen before flaring, remaining stuck to that one spot like glue to a splinter. I clench my lips over my teeth, opening my mouth, trying to give my screaming lungs something, but it’s no use.

It’s too late, I’ve already seen. I know the truth.

My mind races, at least that one thing is still working. How long has Abram known? Not long is my guess if he’s looking at these now. I doubt you’d keep something like this sitting around for anyone to find.

He hadn’t, you snooped, my brain reminds me.

I pull away, stung like I’d been bitten. I shouldn’t have done it. I shouldn’t have peeped through his things. I regret ever seeing this.

My eyes throb with unshed tears as anguish and guilt wash over me. This one thing could change everything. It does change everything. More secrets to my already building web of lies.

Why’d I meddle?

This can’t be true.

My lids close, willing myself to forget. Wishing I could unsee it all. Those numbers, as close to a hundred as humanly possible, not lying.

It’s not fair. One small confession, one slipup, and another’s entire being can change, shifting their entire life’s course.

It’s not fair, it’s not fair, it’s not fair, it’s not fair, it’s not fair, it’s not fair, it’s not fair, it’s not fair, it’s not fair. It’s not.

It’s not fair!

I take a step and another and then another and before I know it, my back’s pressed to the door. Blindly, my hands move, finding the handle.

Hitting the knob, it slides off from the dampness of my limbs. I reach again, this time latching on. Eager to put as much distance between that revelation and myself as humanly possible.

Flinging it open, I round the hall, only to be met head-on with my doom. Fate really is a coldhearted bitch.

Our eyes connect.

My temple pulses, pounding into my skull before it goes numb. Same as everything else inside my body now is.

“We had a deal, lil sis.”

Fifty-Four

Rory

HAVE YOU EVER KNOWN what it feels like to be paralyzed in your own fear? Weaponized to the one thing that reminds your body you are still alive.

Only this type of cage isn’t wrapped in bars or cement, it’s contained entirely by our consciousness. Instead of it waking me up, I feel like I’m shutting down.

I’m alert, but I can’t move, frozen to my spot.

Barricaded, I stand against a wall of male hellhound flesh. Their dismembered faces stare me down. A criminal stuck to her cell, that’s what I am.

That’s how they watch me.

“We had a deal,” Finn repeats gravelly like the words didn’t already hurt bad enough the first time.

I don’t try and defend myself because he’s right. We had made a deal. A contract forged with words instead of paper. Finn would let me run alone if I came to every home game.

Both of us holding up our parts until now, breaking my half.

“Why weren’t you at the game?”

I can feel my lashes as they start to stutter, ticcing. That’s how aware I am of everything going on around me right now. Any slight gesture I feel because I can hardly feel anything at all.

“I—”

“It’s my fault, son,” Abram says. “She was in my office with me, and we lost track of time.”

Finn’s eye pulsates, shifting his gaze from me to Abram. Leveling him with a stare of the same intensity. The same magnitude.

All three of the guys are here. None of them have spoken up yet, letting Finn have the floor. Cole and Eli don’t say anything but that doesn’t mean I can’t read them.

An equal balance of anger to relief radiates off them. All of them, Finn included. They’re upset for some reason, but their shoulders have also hunched. Relaxing a hair from the stiff, straight peaks of before.

I don’t focus on that though, I can’t. More concerned about what Abram has done for me just now. Why did he defend me?

He can’t know that I know what is on his desk. I’d been the last one in the room.

“We had a deal,” Finn says it for a third time like that’s the only sentence he can seem to string together in his temper.

“Rory would have made it if I hadn’t held her back.”

Something scratches at the back of my throat. There Abram goes again, defending me. More weight to his tone now.

Finn’s gaze comes back to me. His anger overshadows his compassion. I swore I saw something else swimming there. Deeper, more like fear, but it gets shadowed too.

“We lost.” His voice low but patronizing.

If I could move, I imagine my hand would be flying to my mouth. Their perfect season gone. They’d worked so hard.

It was the last regular-season game of their high school careers, and I missed it. How had I let so much time get away from me?

“I should have been there.”

“Yeah, well, you weren’t.” Finn glowers. Cheekbones sucking in, tightening to his face.

“I’ll be at the next one,” I promise.

Finn cocks his head. “And is that supposed to make up for you not being at this one? For the worry I—we…” He gestures at Eli and Cole. “Were put through. Did you even think about us at all, or were you just thinking about yourself again?”

It all makes sense then, and it makes me feel worse than I already do. Their mixed expressions from before. They’d thought I’d left again, skipped town.

That’s why they were all so upset but also at ease when they saw me.

Like a bouncy ball, they thought I’d dropped them. Only they’ve seemed to forget that once you drop it, it comes back. Nothing’s changed. I haven’t deserted them.

I’m still here.

Finn’s frown deepens as his eyes widen in his annoyance. He’s pushing, but it’s hovering over that line of too far.

I shake my head, sinking into myself. “Finn, that’s not fair.”

“Neither is you not answering your phone,” Eli says. Speaking up for the first time. I blink over at him, hearing an emptiness in his tone I’d never heard before.

Cole surprisingly the only one who hasn’t spoken up. Not coming to my defense but also not belittling me either. His eyes stay hooded, taking it all in.

He’s not speaking but I can tell he’s been hanging on to every word that’s been spoken. His dark brows are drawn tight, but they never touch.

Just as I think the atmosphere can’t get more charged, Cole does something then. Something completely unexpected. Surprising me as he steps forward, stepping into me.

My breath hitches when our fronts touch, but he doesn’t do anything but stare down at me. Chest to chest. He only watches me.

I feel as though my air supply is being cut off, but at the same time, I gain oxygen too. He breathes out, and I breathe him in.

I can’t decide if my lungs are grateful or are on the verge of collapse. Why is he so close and why is he looking at me like this?

He should be angry like his friends but he’s not. At least not anymore.

Cole’s hand shoots out, finding the base of my neck, and my pulse jumps as my throat locks. Tensing, automatically as my mind goes back to that time when that man had done the same thing. Only he’d held firm, his intent to cut off my air.

His thumb reaches, knowing somehow, as he starts to stroke at that pulse point on my collarbone softly. Soothing.

What’s his agenda? Does he have one? Or am I overthinking again?

The longer I feel him, the more unsure I become if he does. Or maybe I’d been imagining the whole thing to begin with.

What’s happening?

Cole hasn’t said a word, and yet I can feel him everywhere.

His hand moves higher, knotting his fingers through my waves. Holding and touching me like I’m made of precious glass.

“You didn’t leave,” he says, breathing the words into me like their salvation.

Then he’s kissing me, bruising but somehow still soft, like he’s still in disbelief. Telling me everything words cannot.

My ribs expand but collapse again when he pulls back. The kiss wasn’t long, but it tasted of solace.

“Unbelievable,” Finn fumes in disbelief after Cole steps back.

Saying out loud what I’d been thinking. Different emotions behind them but the same word.

“This is fucking awesome; I’ve been over here upset and sick with worry and all you seem to want to do is shove your tongue down my sister’s throat.”

I still wince for multiple reasons, but it doesn’t hurt as bad as before. Knowing I have people on my side. In my corner of the court. It makes me not feel so alone in this hostility-filled room.

Finn throws his hands up in the air, shaking his head, catching as Iceman shoots me a wink. Him uncaring of anyone else’s opinions.

Unsurprising.

Iceman always does whatever he feels like. How others react has never been his concern.

“This is so stupid, all of this!” His hands find his hips. “You don’t show up to the game. You don’t answer your phone. You make me care about you and then you leave me hanging sick with worry… does anyone else agree with me?”

Finn doesn’t give anyone else a chance to respond before he’s answering his own question.

“I have validated reasons to feel this way, Rory!” He rages in disbelief.

I try not to take it personally because I know Finn’s reacting out of anger, but it still doesn’t feel good. Hearing them even if they’re all true.

After everything and when the dust settles the haze in his vision, I hope Finn realizes I care about him too. He’s my brother.

But with any truth hangs darkness that lingers in the corner…

“You know what, I’m out,” Finn decides, throwing out his arms again after no one says anything. Not a single person coming to his defense or mine.

He opens the front door, keys in hand and at the ready, when his motions are stopped mid-exit.

“Ugh, not you too,” Finn groans. “Hasn’t tonight already sucked enough?”

Never have I heard Finn speak so brazenly to Abram, let alone with his colleague Silas. He does now, though, unbashful and without remorse.

If Silas is surprised, I never get the chance to see. No one does. Finn has already slammed the door right back into his face.

Fifty-Five

Rory

ABRAM GOES TO LET Silas back inside, but he beats him to it. Letting himself in.

“Oh good, so I hadn’t been imagining it,” Finn says, crossing his arms. “If you’re looking for your son, he’s probably busy swallowing Rory’s tonsils.” Grunting out the entire comment.

Silas is unscarred by Finn’s comment, but that’s not unusual. Not for him.

There is something so vile about the man, so unaffected by anyone or anything, like after you sit there emotionless after crying, static to everything.

Except I doubt Silas has ever cried. Not even after his wife died. That would require him to be something he’s incapable of. He’s as heartless as he is unfeeling.

Normally yes, but tonight there’s something different about him. That coldness is there, but so is another thing. Humming of a similar wavelength but on a different frequency.

My legs grow heavy as rocks.

Abram sidesteps Finn, shooting him a glare over his shoulder. “Silas, to what do I owe the pleasure? Could you have not called?”

So Abram hadn’t been expecting this visit either. This isn’t good. My stomachs a knotted ball of nerves again.

“How’d you do it?” Silas says, getting straight to the point.

A dangerous glint in his eye. His scowl more drawn than usual. He’s off-kilter, and it’s showing. He’s rattled by something.

I knew I’d been right.

As if sensing it himself, Abram moves in. “Silas, we can talk in my office.” Voice sterner than before.

“Here is fine.”

“I think my office will be better.” There’s a hint of threat laced in Abram’s tone as he bares his teeth.

Silas scans his face a second before glowering. His hazel eyes scare me. There’s a crazy zing in them tonight. Inflexible is what that expression says. He doesn’t care who’s around.

I stand here pretending I’m eager when I’m really petrified. Cole’s father is unbalanced.

“Checked our accounts lately, Abram? Noticed anything different about them?” Silas’s smirk is cocky, one used to destroy a rival. He looks at Abram right now as the enemy.

Abram eyes him skeptically.

Silas watches him grow more impatient and alert. “I have been, in case you’re wondering. Been checking statements for months.”

Abram’s eyes heat, ablaze in his fury. “You’ve been monitoring us?”

Silas snorts. “Us?”

The way he says that one word, with so much underlying hostility, venom. He doesn’t trust him. Neither of them does the other in this moment.

Abram keeps his face passive. He seems relieved but also alert. Everyone feels so out of reach.

The room hums with hot energy and too much testosterone. This is not how I’d expected the conversation to go. A small part of me is relieved by this.

Whatever this is, it’s distracting from the obvious.

How I’d never noticed the similarities before this evening, shocking. The signs have been there this entire time. Subtly, but once you know, you can’t unsee the truth for what it is.

It’s undeniable.

“How’d you do it?”

My head shifts, following Silas’s comment. Same as everyone else’s. All of us watching whatever this is going down between business partners. Some of us more aware than others.

“We’re supposed to be equals!” Silas snarls. His temper finally getting the better of him. Overboiling.

“We are,” Abram says, matching the heat, unafraid.

Silas clicks his tongue, eyes more alive than I’d ever seen them before. “You know how our partnership works. The arrangement set in place for both families.”

Abram’s head snaps back. “What are you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

My eyes flicker over to Finn. He and Eli both standing beside each other, unmoving since this began.

“You come into my home, on my time, and in front of my children accuse me of what, stealing?” Abram’s words carry as much shock as they do disbelief.

At that single word, Silas’s jaw clicks. His motives shift as the corners of his mouth lift. Cheshire-like as he changes course, like the idea suddenly sprouted in his awful, toxic mind.

The answer to his question blooming before us.

I know exactly which one he’s chosen to cling to and it’s as disturbing as it’s unsettling.

I may have only just found out, seeing the papers in Abram’s study, but this is textbook Silas Kellet. Finding ways to use things only when they become of value to him.

There it is again, that unsettling panic of earlier. Ripping its way through my lungs, looking for the escape it’ll never find. My heartbeat pounds, glancing between the two. Feral and wild, it thunders.

Silas wouldn’t. He couldn’t…

My attention shifts back to the person opposite him, already knowing the answer.

…He is.

Silas is going to do it.

No fight, no remorse for anyone else but himself. Silas’s eyes are an unsettling shade of hazel. The green in them darkens with vivid clarity.

The eyes of someone who’s inhuman.

A strangled cough sounds around the room, but I only realize it’s coming from me after everyone’s gazes shift my way.

I hadn’t meant for it to slip out. Even more shocking, I’m surprised I’d somehow found the air to do it to begin with.

The noise had been unexpected but a feeling inside my gut tells me not to waste the opportunity. I doubt I’ll ever get another. So that’s what I do, seize the moment.

Try, even if, in the end, I know it’ll do nothing at all.

I’m panicking on the inside, but I refuse to let anyone see it. It’s not me who should be worried.

“Finn, what did you tell me that day?” I ask boldly. “That day in the parking lot after you’d all found me. You told me something.”

His face mars with confusion.

“I’d left. Ran away the same as every other time something bad happened to me. Only this time was different. You all came back for me. You came back.”

I take a step and my heart jackhammers. Everyone is watching me. Even with Cole now at my back, I can feel his curious stare as it follows.

That’s alright because I’m just as confused.

“Do you remember what you said?” I ask softer now but not any less impactful.

I have no idea if this is the right time to share this, but deep down, I know the truth. I’ve known for a while I just refused to admit it.

Everyone else knew it, saw it. I’m the only one who refused to open my eyes. To see what’s been in front of me the entire time. Accept who I am, who I’ve always been.

“I said, we’re Caspers. We stick together,” Finn says. That confusion shifts to recognition but there’s still that underlining uncertainty about where this is going.

My chin lifts with a determined nod. “That’s right, and what did you do for me that day by coming to get me?”

“Made sure we stick together.”

Another nod.

“And that day on the roller coaster, I’d been scared and unsure I could do it, but what did you make sure we did?”

Finn swallows, voice stronger now. “Stick together.”

“How many times have I told you and everyone else that when I turned eighteen, I planned on leaving? Heading out. And what did you do? You threw me a birthday party anyway, even with your doubts. Knowing my plans, you still did that.”

Finn’s mouth lifts, but his expression is empty. Eyes going over my shoulder before landing back down at me when I start again. Cole doesn’t have the answers, only me.

“You did it because we stick together, right? What have I done since then? I haven’t left.” My jaw sets correcting myself. “I didn’t leave.”

His mouth hooks higher, finally catching on. “You made sure we stick together.”

Unease pricks at the back of my neck but I hold strong. Saying it anyway, not for me but because he had to know, had to see before it’s too late.

Before everything changes…

“That’s right, because what are we?”

Finn’s shoulders swell, widening, as he shifts his stance. “We’re Caspers.”

“And we?”

“Stick together,” he hollers.

I smirk, satisfied. “That’s right, because you’re my brother, and you have my back. Same as I have yours.” My voice cracks, faltering, and I hate it. “Right?”

The overconfidence of before dwindles somewhat as his forehead creases. That steel in his eye softening a fraction, catching the fluctuation.

I want to wince but no longer have the energy. The little I had left I’d used up just now. Making sure he knew. Understood the importance of who we are.

It doesn’t carry the same punch as before, but he answers even in his turmoil. “Right.”

My stomach caves. Please don’t forget that.

Finn’s forehead strains into a straight line as pain slices down my chest. Hyperaware of the subtle sound. Someone’s mouth parting.

It’s faint, but it’s all I need to hear to know Silas is about to speak again. To ruin everything.

“Well, wasn’t that… informative,” he says. Slicking his tongue across his teeth with a click. “Abram, your daughter needs to learn her manners and know her place. We were having a conversation.” Steering us back to before. Back to his accusations.

Back down this destructive path of war.

“Don’t do this, Silas,” Abram begs. He isn’t talking about me. “Not now.”

A frosty layer cools over his face. “Tell me what happened to my half of the company then?”

“I don’t know.”

“It’s gone!” He seethes, the anger from before snapping right back into place like it’d never left. “Day after day, somewhere, somehow, my portion of the business has been dissipating. Being transferred out.”

Silas’s chest rises and falls.

“No trace, no transaction history. Zilch! All of it, gone! The Kellets own nothing at Hardin anymore as of an hour ago.”

My heart pauses, literally pauses.

What? I can’t be hearing this, right? The Kellets no longer have any weight at Hardin? That company is Silas’s life. His entire being is for that business.

Without that—

“I don’t know how you did it. You were good at covering your tracks, but I understand now. I see it. The answer has been here the whole time.”

His rage is like an inferno, a ball of fire. Warpath set, target in sight, indifferent to anyone else as he charges ahead.

Nothing matters to him other than that company, and he’s lost it.

All of it, he’d confessed.

“…Silas,” Abram asserts, but it’s a warning.

That ball is picking up speed, the heat rising as it gets closer still. Doom’s treading, but there’s nothing to do but watch as it comes. Setting in.

Please remember.

“You got my son to do it for you, didn’t you?” It’s a question, but it comes off as a statement. An accusation.

A shadow that carries insight crosses Silas’s face. He’s known too, but for how long?

Please, don’t forget.

Cole moves beside me, jaw tight. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, old man. I haven’t done anything other than what you’ve asked of me.”

Please, we need you.

“I wasn’t talking about you, son,” he derides with zero empathy.

The room waits with charged silence. Who else could he be talking about then?

I know and I wish I didn’t.

Silas’s neck cranes, rotating as his head follows in suit. It goes past Cole, over me, and comes to a clarifying halt at the only other person directly beside me.

Please!

Silas’s smile as coaxing as it is vile. “I’m talking about my other son. Finn.”

The Story Continues...

Resilient Queen

Can't wait? Click to grab your copy today.

https://amzn.to/3nndqri

Afterward

THANK YOU FOR READING the second book in the Hardin Hellhounds series. I hope you enjoyed reading it. If you have a moment please review Broken Heir online. Tell other readers why you enjoy reading here. Thank you again, readers, and I hope we visit soon between the pages of another whirlwind romance.

About Author

AMBER VANT IS AN author who specializes in all things romance. Most notably, she's known for her work in Contemporary Romance and New Adult novels. She lives in Kansas City, Missouri with her husband and rambunctious cat. Both constantly keep her laughing with their humored temperaments and spirited personalities. When she's not busy writing down the characters in her head, you can probably find her jet-setting around the world. Seeing somewhere new one plane ride at a time.

Table of Contents

Prologue

1. Cole

2. Cole

3. Cole

4. Cole

5. Rory

6. Rory

7. Rory

8. Cole

9. Rory

10. Rory

11. Rory

12. Cole

13. Cole

14. Rory

15. Cole

16. Rory

17. Rory

18. Rory

19. Rory

20. Rory

21. Rory

22. Rory

23. Cole

24. Rory

25. Rory

26. Rory

27. Rory

28. Rory

29. Rory

30. Rory

31. Rory

32. Rory

33. Rory

34. Rory

35. Cole

36. Rory

37. Rory

38. Cole

39. Rory

40. Rory

41. Cole

42. Rory

43. Rory

44. Rory

45. Rory

46. Rory

47. Rory

48. Cole

49. Rory

50. Rory

51. Rory

52. Cole

53. Rory

54. Rory

55. Rory

The Story Continues...

Afterward

About Author