Like You Hurt: A Standalone Enemies to Lovers Romance (Devilbend Dynasty Book 2)

by Kaydence Snow

Amaya snorted, and a bit of frustration shot through me. I stared her down as she slammed her now empty mug on her desk and came to stand by the bed. This was just her—how she reacted to hurt—but I didn’t want to deal with it.

  She spoke before I could say anything I’d regret. “That’s a load of shit, Donna. You didn’t want to burden us? So, it’s OK for you to help Harlow with her homework and get her out of trouble with teachers, it’s OK for you to listen to me bitch about my mom, it’s OK for you to rain down hell when Mena was getting bullied, but we can’t be there for you? You’re not a goddamn robot. You can’t do everything yourself, and it’s bullshit that you didn’t trust us to help you.”

  “What? I trust you girls with my life.” I reached out and took her hand. She let me, but didn’t break that hard stare. “Devilbend Dynasty is not just a silly hashtag to me. This has nothing to do with me not trusting you and everything to do with my fucked-up head.”

  I needed them to understand that this was all because of my need to handle my own shit—maybe because I was the oldest, maybe because of how driven everyone in our family was, maybe because I’d fallen into a pattern of showing everyone a tough, unshakeable face. Who knew why I was the way I was? It was something to figure out later, but I needed them to know it had nothing to do with how I felt about them.

  “What did Hendrix tell you?” I asked.

  Amaya just stared.

  “A lot,” Mena finally answered.

  “He pretty much didn’t shut up the entire ride over.” Harlow rolled her eyes.

  “About Davey’s? Why I go there? What I do there?”

  They nodded.

  “About college? The early acceptance?”

  More nods.

  “About . . . us?”

  “He was scant on details about that,” Harlow said.

  It was time for more honesty. I swallowed and looked at each of them. “I’m sorry I lied to you, kept things from you. I’m sorry I didn’t come to you for help and support. But please, don’t leave me. I need you girls.”

  “No one’s leaving you, you idiot.” Amaya finally flopped down onto the bed and squeezed my hand back. “Just talk to us.”

  Surrounded by my friends, I told them everything—the internship I didn’t get, the volunteer position I’d idiotically lost, the early acceptance that made me realize I didn’t want to go to law school, the way going to Davey’s made me feel free of it all for a little while, how the danger of hooking up with hard men made me feel alive.

  They listened to it all, held me, supported me, asked questions, reassured me we’d find solutions. They were exactly the kind of friends I hadn’t given them a chance to be. I promised myself I’d never shut them out again. Then I promised them, out loud.

  After talking it through properly, in detail, with three sounding boards—it didn’t feel so insurmountable. It no longer felt as if I was single-handedly holding up an entire building. I’d speak to my parents, hard as it would be. I’d figure out what I wanted to do after high school. I’d lean on my friends more for support and guidance. In fact, now that they knew it all, I felt a little silly for how much the pressure had gotten to me, how spectacularly I’d fallen apart the night before. But they made me feel better about that too.

  We sat on that bed for hours.

  I even told them about Hendrix, the full story this time—how he’d caught me at the bar, how we’d been hooking up, how he’d been trying to keep me safe, trying to help me.

  “Well, shit.” Amaya rubbed the back of her neck. “Now I wish I’d let him come home with us.”

  “Huh?” I looked between them.

  Harlow chuckled. “Yeah, he wanted to help us take care of you, but Amaya barked at him to back off and just drove away.”

  “All we had to go off was his word.” Mena crossed her arms. “For all we knew, he was the reason you were so messed up in the first place.”

  “What’s going on with you guys now?” Amaya asked. I’d told them everything that had happened, but even I had no idea where we stood. The things we’d said to each other, the way I’d repeatedly pushed him away . . . He’d come for me last night, helped my friends save me before I got seriously hurt, but that didn’t mean all was forgiven. That didn’t mean he’d want anything to do with me after all I’d put him through.

  “I don’t . . .” I bit my lip. That wasn’t entirely true anymore. I knew what I wanted. “I don’t know where I stand with him. If he can forgive me. But . . . shit. I really like him. More than like him. I think he might be the real deal.”

  “He believed us, last night.” Mena rubbed my shoulder. “When we told him it was Will and not you who was responsible for the posters. He helped us find you. He still cares.”

  “Yeah, but Will . . . it’s still my fault. I don’t know if I can even ask him to forgive me for how awful I’ve been.”

  Before anyone could say another word, Amaya cursed and frowned at her phone. It had been vibrating with notifications the entire time we’d been talking, but that wasn’t anything new. She had a pretty big following on Instagram. “Is Drew blowing up anyone else’s phone?”

  Mena and Harlow pulled theirs from their pockets. I had no idea where mine was.

  “I have twelve missed calls.” Mena frowned.

  “Same. And no messages.” Harlow looked around at us.

  Amaya’s phone buzzed again. She rolled her eyes and picked up. “Why are you blowing up our phones? We’re kinda in the middle of—”

  We could hear Drew’s voice on the other end but couldn’t make out what he was saying.

  Amaya sat up straighter, the annoyance draining from her face to be replaced with something more serious. “We’re at my place. Just come here.”

  Another moment of silence, then she hung up and looked at us all. “He’s freaking out. Something about Will and . . . Hendrix.”

  I shot to my feet. “What happened?”

  “I don’t know.” Amaya’s voice remained calm. “But he was already in the car. He should be here any minute.”

  I rushed to the window overlooking her curved driveway, and sure enough, a few minutes later, Drew’s Audi came tearing toward the house. As soon as the car slammed to a halt, Drew jumped out and rushed to the door. His footsteps pounded on the stairs, and then he was standing just outside Amaya’s room, breathing hard.

  “Shit.” He ran both hands through his hair. “I shouldn’t be dragging you into this. Never mind.”

  He turned to leave, but we all lunged for him at the same time, shouting over one another. Between the four of us pulling at his clothes and scolding him, we managed to drag him back into the room. He took a seat at the foot of the bed, and the four of us lined up in front of him, blocking the door.

  “Drew, what is going on?” I demanded. It felt good to have that steel back in my voice, the strength returning to my spine. “Are you OK? Is Hendrix?”

  “Yeah, Hendrix is fine.” He waved that away, then fixed me with a look. “It’s you I’m worried about.”

  “Me?” I raised my eyebrows, not giving anything away. Had he found out about my meltdown somehow?

  “Will . . .” Drew swallowed. “Will’s lost the plot, and I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to drag you girls into it, but I’m worried about you, D—what he might do. And I . . . I don’t know how to make them stop.”

  He ran his hands through his hair again, and I shared worried glances with the girls. Mena sat down next to him and rubbed his shoulder, just as she’d been rubbing mine earlier.

  “You’re not making any sense,” Amaya said. “What don’t you want to drag us into?”

  He released a big breath and leaned his elbows on his knees. “Last year, just before the school year ended, some of the guys and I . . . we got into some shit.”

  “Stop being vague,” I demanded.

  “Fights. We started going to these illegal fights Will somehow found out about. At first it was just to watch, make bets. But after a while, some of the
guys started fighting too. It was fun at first, a rush, all that money passing hands. But the people running it . . . the opponents they were pitting the guys against got tougher and meaner, and we started walking away with more bruises and less money. And then they wouldn’t let us walk away at all.”

  “Luke and the guys. The car accident.” I clenched my fists, forcing my breathing to remain even. Over the summer, four of the guys on the football team had been in a horrible accident, and none of them could play anymore. “They were hurt in a fight and not an accident.”

  Will shook his head. “No. It was a car accident. It just wasn’t exactly accidental. The people running the fights got in touch after, made it clear. That’s what would happen to anyone else wanting to leave.”

  The words coming out of Amaya’s mouth were filthy even for her. Harlow wrapped her arms around herself.

  “You’re all a bunch of fucking idiots,” I said calmly. “You couldn’t just hire some hookers and trash your daddy’s yacht like regular rich assholes? You had to go and get involved in some dodgy fight club? That is the most toxic-masculinity, stupid-ass bullshit I’ve ever heard.”

  “I know!” Drew pleaded, hands splayed out. “We all lost interest pretty quickly, but they wouldn’t let us leave, and now . . . I don’t know what to do.”

  “What does this have to do with Hendrix? With me?”

  “Apparently, they tried to get Hendrix to fight before, invited him, but he said no.” Because he’d vowed never to lift a hand against another human being again. Despicable trash-bag assholes . . . “So, the posters exposing him—they’re trying to bait him, make him angry. Someone’s decided he’d make them a lot of money, that he’s worth the trouble of . . . coercing. And Will seems to be in with this shit way deeper than I thought. I should’ve known.” He gritted his teeth. “It was always Will with the information on the next fight, always Will making the first bet. I don’t know what the hell he’s doing, but that’s why he put the posters up. It had nothing to do with jealousy over you. But now that he knows how much you care . . .”

  The blood drained from my face. Even as a weight lifted—relief that it wasn’t because of me Hendrix had been exposed—another heavier one settled in the pit of my stomach.

  Drew nodded, as if he could see the horror washing over me. “After you laid into him yesterday, he realized that you and Hendrix—that there’s something more there. And I’m worried he’ll try to use it. Use you to get Hendrix to do what he wants.”

  Drew heaved a massive sigh, a punctuation to the clusterfuck he’d just dumped on us.

  “Why haven’t you gone to the police?” Amaya asked.

  “Honestly? I’m scared.” He rubbed his thighs, as if his fear was something to be ashamed of. “All the others are too. We don’t want to get charged with anything, and we don’t know if we’ll get dragged down with the rest of them. Plus, I’m worried if Will finds out it was me . . . he’ll tell the others and . . .” He was scared for his life. He actually thought these people might kill him. Considering the state Luke and the guys had been in, I didn’t blame him. “Plus, it’s not that simple. We never know when or where the fight will happen until the day of, sometimes just hours before.”

  Harlow stepped forward with a pen and a piece of paper. “Can you write the addresses down for me?”

  Drew nodded and started to write things down as I mulled over what he’d told us. When he was done, he handed the paper to my sister, who had already situated herself at the desk and was filling Amaya’s computer screen with weird windows of text.

  “Thanks for the warning, Drew,” I said and meant it. “But I’m not sure what we can do about it either. Maybe it’s time we told our parents? There’s got to be a way to get the police involved and keep you safe.”

  Drew nodded, but he looked solemn, drained. “I was thinking that too, but I can’t really go to my dad.” Drew’s father had never laid a hand on his son, but he was a cold, unfeeling man who was always happy to point out failures, never successes. “I was thinking, maybe, with all your connections in the legal field . . . I don’t know.”

  He was hoping I’d know what to do, who to speak to, how to handle this best. Because I always had answers, always had a plan, was always willing to do whatever it took for my friends.

  I was tired, hungover, and sick of everyone thinking I was unbreakable. But Drew was a friend, and I had my girls with me all the way.

  My hand closed over his. “We’ll figure it out.”

  I didn’t know how, but we would. Together.

  “Shit.” Harlow’s wide eyes were scanning the screen as if to double-check—triple-check—what she was seeing. Then she turned to us, her hands gripping the edge of the desk. “Those addresses aren’t random. I figured out what they have in common. Or rather who. We have a big problem, you guys.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Hendrix

  The sheets were pooled around my hips, my wide-open eyes staring at the dark ceiling. I’d tried to go to bed after watching a movie with my aunt, but I’d just ended up lying awake, wrapped in the gloomy silence.

  It had been a full twenty-four hours, and I still hadn’t heard from Donna or her friends. I’d wanted so badly to follow them home, barge into the house and help them take care of her, but I knew they’d just had a bomb dropped on them. She didn’t make it easy on any of us. So I gave them space, didn’t call or text. But as I stared into the blackness, running everything over in my mind for the millionth time, I wondered if that was a mistake.

  Maybe she was waiting for me to reach out, show her I cared. I frowned at the thought. Hadn’t my actions over the past few months shown that already? Yeah, I’d told her friends shit she didn’t want them to know, but I had no other choice.

  It was kind of bullshit that, after everything, she hadn’t even texted to tell me she was OK. But then, it wasn’t as if we were together—she didn’t owe me anything. And I didn’t owe her jack shit either. So I’d deleted every message I’d half written throughout the day.

  The uncertainty was killing me, but I was done chasing Donna Mead.

  With a frustrated sigh, I sat up, rested my elbows on my knees, and rubbed my sore eyes. I’d hardly slept after coming home the night before. I was exhausted, and yet I was still completely incapable of sleeping.

  Resigned to putting on another movie to drown out my thoughts, I was just getting out of bed when a sound from the window made me pause. I turned toward it and frowned. It sounded like a tap, maybe a branch knocking against the glass. Except there wasn’t any wind—or any trees near my window.

  The sound came again—a low ping, something solid but small hitting the glass. I edged toward the window and pulled back the curtain.

  Donna stood in my yard, her hand raised as if she was about to throw something, but she lowered her arm when she saw me. That crazy bitch was throwing pebbles at my window even though we both had perfectly functioning phones.

  I shook my head, torn between amusement and annoyance. What the hell?

  She held my gaze for a moment, then folded her arms and cocked her head, silently gesturing for me to come outside.

  I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed, but when I looked at her again, I knew I’d go. I’d go wherever she wanted me, whenever she needed me. Because I had it bad for the petite blonde bundled in a gray coat, standing in my yard in the middle of the night.

  After giving her one nod, I turned from the window to pull on sweatpants and a hoodie, then picked up my shoes and padded softly down the hall. I wasn’t trying to do anything behind my aunt’s back, but I didn’t want to disturb her either.

  The night air was crisp and cold, and I zipped the hoodie all the way up as I stepped out the back door. Donna turned and walked to the back of the yard as soon as I appeared, edging past the shrubs at the bottom of the property. I stuffed my hands into my pockets and followed.

  Donna waited for me on the walking path that ran down the backs of the yards, along a
nature reserve on the other side. She waved her phone at me, then silently held her hand out and gave me an expectant look.

  This behavior was weird even for her.

  “You wa—”

  She slapped her hand over my mouth, cutting off my words. I was so stunned I didn’t even know what to do. With her phone still in hand, she pressed one finger to her lips in a silent order to be quiet.

  I frowned at her.

  She ran her hand over the pockets of my hoodie, making my abs tighten at her touch, then moved to the ones on my pants. Several dirty jokes ran through my mind, making me smirk, but I remained silent. Even so, she still gave me a withering look as she located my phone and removed it.

  My smile remained in place as she hid both phones under a bush and gave me another “let’s go” gesture. She was acting really weird, but I still followed without hesitation.

  We walked the silent path shoulder to shoulder, the half moon and occasional back porch light the only illumination.

  Once the path veered away from the houses and into the woods, Donna finally spoke.

  “Sorry about that. Harlow insisted on no phones.”

  “Uh . . . what?” I chuckled. “That doesn’t actually explain anything.”

  “I know. Just . . . come on.” She picked up the pace, and after another few minutes of walking, we emerged into a clearing surrounded by trees.

  Harlow and Amaya were bundled into coats, shoulders up near their ears against the cold. Next to them, Turner had his arms around Mena, pressed in close behind her. But it was the presence of Drew—the quarterback of the football team and Will’s friend—that made me pause.

  Every muscle in my body tensed, ready for . . . I wasn’t even sure what. I had no idea what this bizarre situation was about.

  “Dark woods. Middle of the night.” I made a show of looking around. “Are we planning to sacrifice a virgin or something?”

  Drew and Amaya both snorted while Harlow grinned. “There’s no virgins here, trust me.”

  “Hey, man.” Turner nodded to me from across the clearing. “There’s something you need to know.”