by Rachel Jonas
Hunter may not have confirmed my suspicion outright, but I know his being in prison has everything to do with Vin. I won’t lose another sibling to that monster.
Over my dead body.
As if I’m not already on edge, someone’s been calling my phone from a blocked number. There’ve been three today, and when I pick up… nothing. It reminds me of something West said about Casey’s paranoia. He described how she couldn’t relax because she was constantly on the lookout.
“Everything okay?”
I’m still a bit distracted when I peer up to find West smiling. Seeing that I’m confused, he nods toward my screen.
“Scar—is she all right?”
“Oh, um… her day’s been normal from what I can tell,” I answer with a sigh.
“Then, what’s with the stalking?”
Glancing down at me and Scar’s text history, it isn’t hard to see why he’d say that. Guess it does look a little manic on my part. Mostly, there are frantic ‘You okay?’ messages from me, resulting in ‘Don’t you have anything better to do?’ responses from her.
Then, there’s her latest inquiry, which I have yet to answer…
Scar: Shouldn’t I be hounding you? We ever gonna talk about that pic Pandora posted? Or are you planning to ignore the question like you did last night when I asked?
Needless to say, I haven’t bugged her since.
“She probably just thinks I’m smothering her. Like usual,” I say to West. “The girl will be fifteen this weekend and I still hover like a freaking helicopter. Even before I had good reason to.”
“Relax. You don’t smother her. You’re just a good sister,” he says, squeezing me a little. “But since we’re on the subject of smothering the ones we love, it’s my turn.”
The odd segue has me smiling, despite feeling like actual shit right now.
“I need to know you’re okay. A lot’s happened in the last twenty-four hours,” he presses.
Tell me about it.
“I’m dealing,” is the only response I feel like giving. Call me crazy, but I’m not in the mood to relive it all so soon. Not that I’ve forgotten or anything. I suppose that if I had moved on, those bags I packed last night wouldn’t still be sitting in the closet, ready just in case.
West’s energy is so strong that, one second after my mind wanders, I’m pulled out of my thoughts without him saying a word. He has my full attention when he tilts my head just before heat from his kiss covers my lips. Despite telling myself not to let this or him affect me, it’s too late. I’m in so deep with him I’m drowning.
“Promise me something,” he pulls away to say.
Those green eyes—they decimate the walls I’m trying to build around my heart.
“What is it?”
His touch is firmer now, as though he wants to make sure I’m focused, hearing every word he’s about to say.
“I need to know you’re giving me time.”
My heart sinks hearing his request. All because time is the one thing I can’t promise him.
“West—”
“Two months, right?” he cuts in. “I’ll fix it by then.”
There’s that phrase again—‘he’ll fix it’.
I’m not sure I realized before now how desperate he is to make this all okay. It’s been clear that he cares, but the look in his eyes tells me he’ll lose his shit if we don’t beat that clock.
My heart’s racing and it’s on the tip of my tongue to reveal what he probably already knows—that this thing is bigger than us, that it’s bigger than what the two of us can handle. I keep my mouth shut, though. Yes, false hope is probably the last thing we need, and we should be preparing for the worst, but I can’t bring myself to break his heart right now.
I know a lot about life spiraling out of control, and the way I’ve survived it over and over again is to brace for impact. And while I know West is blind to it at the moment, we’re locked in a vicious tailspin with only one possible ending.
But that look in his eyes… it’s tugging at my heart, has me feeling like a coward under his stare. So, instead of giving him the hard reality check I’d give anyone else, I nod.
“Okay,” I say. “I’ll give you time.” He’s so relieved it breaks my heart a little more, leaving me with the sense that I’ve just been irresponsible with his feelings. I shouldn’t have done that. He needed to hear the truth. Not some fluffed up version of what we both hope happens.
His mouth crashes down onto mine when he kisses me again, hard and deep. So deep that I nearly forget my vow again.
“Thank you,” he rushes to say. “I’m gonna do everything I can.”
There’s this look in his eyes now, and I know my promise just revived some measure of hope within him, but I want to be one-hundred percent transparent about the rest of my plan.
“I’m willing to be patient, wait things out, but… I have to send Scar someplace safe,” I explain.
That light I’d just seen flickering in his stare suddenly fades, turning his expression somber.
“She’ll hate me for it, but it’s the only thing I can think to do to keep her out of danger. I can’t watch her twenty-four-seven, and I—”
West faces me head on and I stop speaking because, shit, I’m about to cry again. In front of all these people.
His hands warm both sides of my neck and I focus on him to hold it together. Otherwise, if I let myself think about how fucked up this situation truly is, I’ll lose it.
“You’re right to get her out of here. We don’t know what we’re up against.”
It feels good to hear that someone else agrees I’m doing the right thing. Because heaven knows Scar’s going to put up one hell of a fight to stay.
“Where are you thinking of sending her?” West asks, bringing to mind the less-than-ideal option I came up with last night.
“The only place I could think of—our grandmother. Mike’s mom,” I add. “I’m not even sure she’ll take Scar in, but she’s the only family we have outside Cypress Pointe.”
I’m sick at the thought of my sister going anywhere, but especially there. Mike picked up all his nasty vices from that household—the short fuse, his selfishness, the drinking.
West nods. “Ok, well we can start by having you reach out to her. Maybe tell her there’s trouble, but be vague. Where does she stay?”
“A small town in Virginia. She’s got a single-wide in an old trailer park off the interstate, but she’s got a spare bedroom she sometimes rents out to boarders. At least, that was the case the last time we spoke to her.”
Eight years ago.
It feels like there’s a knife twisting in my stomach, pressing deeper with every second that passes.
“Hey,” West says quietly. He tilts my head back until I’m focused on only him, but my eyes blur with tears. “It’s only temporary. Only until we sort this shit out.”
I nod, hoping like hell he’s right about all this. Even if I don’t believe a single word of it beyond the fact that he will do absolutely everything he can to make things right.
“Okay,” I manage to say.
He holds my gaze for a moment, reading me in that way only he can do. “Okay.”
Eventually, he leans away and I feel stronger than before, empowered even. All because, for the first time in a long time, I’m not doing things all on my own.
Joss and the guys are coming our way, but they seem to notice this moment between me and West is intense, and just head into the cafeteria.
West’s stare lingers there a moment, at the empty doorway where his brothers and Joss just disappeared.
“I know you don’t know them as well as I do, but I really think they can help us sort things out,” he suggests. “Even Joss. She’s not blood, but she’s like family.”
My chest rises when I breathe deep.
“I’m not really in a position to turn down help,” I say, chuffing a humorless laugh, not realizing one of the tears has slipped down my cheek. West brushing it away with his thum
b is what signals me that it has.
“With the five of us working together, Vin’s ass won’t know what hit him,” he adds with a faint smile.
“Actually, you should probably make that six,” I hesitate to say, which has West casting a questioning look toward me.
“Six?”
“You forgot Ricky.”
The look he gives next says he could never forget Ricky. Seeing as how his permanent place of residence seems to be just under West’s skin.
“I know he’s not your favorite person in the world, but he’s one of the few I trust,” I add.
West could not be unhappier with what I’ve just proposed, but I believe he knows I’m right. Ricky may be stubborn as hell, and a little cocky, but he’s also the most resourceful person I know. Plus, he’s a friend, and I don’t have many of those.
“Six,” he repeats with a nod, but as a statement this time, instead of a question.
I don’t know what’ll come of us all working together, but I can say for sure that we’ll accomplish more as a team than I would on my own.
A team.
Feels so weird to say I actually have one of those, but this guy standing in front of me today is proving to be a rock. I don’t know, maybe it’s not so crazy to think we’ll actually figure this out.
It’s obvious I have enough faith in us that I’m willing to give it a shot, which has to mean something, right?
Deciding to give someone my heart is hard enough, but giving someone my trust… that almost never happens.
I guess if a girl’s going to be blindsided by a guy, being totally knocked off her feet by how amazing he is would be the best possible scenario.
@QweenPandora: You’re so vain you probably think this post is about you.
Well, I suppose they usually are, but today I’ve got a bit of a treat for you lovelies.
This one’s about me.
It seems I’ve ruffled the wrong feathers somewhere along the way and there’s a rumor going around that someone’s using their power for evil. In short, there’s a witch hunt in Cypress Pointe and guess who these misguided souls are hoping to find.
Yep, you guessed it—yours truly.
While I’m certain letting me know I’m being pursued was meant to strike fear, I’m rather flattered. Am I really so good that the mere thought of me existing in my little slice of the web has you shaking in your boots?
Who would’ve guessed little old me had that kind of power?
Maybe I’m selling myself short only dishing dirt on Cypress Prep’s elite. Perhaps I should consider going national. You’ve given me much to consider.
At any rate, it seems this little game of cat and mouse is officially on.
Catch me if you can, but be warned: I’m much, MUCH better at this than you are. And if you do manage to get me in a corner, be careful. I’ve got one nasty bite.
Be seeing you soon.
Later, Peeps.
—P
Chapter 7
WEST
The peace of mind that comes with having the alarm installed at Southside’s is unmatched. As soon as school ended, I walked her to practice, got her key, and then met the installer at her place. To some, that move might seem like some serious, overbearing boyfriend-type-shit, but I don’t give a fuck what people think. As long as she’s safe, I’m good with all the rest.
The next item on my agenda was to bring my brothers up to speed on all the details they’ve missed. I’ve officially done that, and Sterling zones out thinking about it all. I can only imagine what’s going on inside his head.
But when he speaks up a second later, I’m not left wondering for long.
“Damn. This shit’s more fucked up than I thought.”
He stands at my bedroom window, overlooking the city as he and Dane process everything I’ve revealed. His analysis of things isn’t wrong—this shit’s definitely fucked up.
“Guess I get why her hand’s all busted. Hell, I might’ve taken out a whole wall if I’d been her,” Dane chimes in, but then his brow quirks when he seems to have an epiphany right after. “Anyone else thinking Pandora’s last post was about Vin?”
“Oh, it was definitely about Vin,” Sterling adds. “That asshole’s probably trying to flush her out because she outed him about that little pitstop at Southside’s last night. We all know how he gets when something’s out of his control.”
“Think he’ll succeed? He’s got the cash and resources to do pretty much whatever the hell he wants,” Dane points out.
He turns when I shake my head, laughing a bit. “You kidding me? That bitch won’t get found out until she’s good and ready.”
He shrugs, probably realizing I’m right, but Sterling faces us with concern marking his expression.
“Should we even be talking here?” he asks. “I mean, for all we fucking know, Vin’s got this whole place bugged.”
“Thought about that. When I came home to change for school this morning, I checked everything. Pretty sure it’s just the phones—our calls, our texts,” I explain. “So, once we get the new ones tonight, that should settle it.”
“And… where are these phones coming from again?” Sterling asks, shooting Dane a look.
“You fucking deaf? I said I know a guy.”
Sterling laughs to himself before mocking Dane’s answer. “That’s right. You know a guy. Suddenly, I feel so much more at ease. Thank you for clarifying.”
“Why’s it so hard to believe I communicate with people who aren’t either of you two assholes?”
“Let me guess. He’s one of your followers or some weak shit like that. Am I right?”
Dane laughs off the insult, reaching for his phone. When he turns it toward us, he’s pointing at the number representing the army who hang on his every word.
“If nearly two million IG followers is weak, you can kiss my ass,” he adds.
Surprised, Sterling stares at the number in silence. Pretty sure no one’s ever shut him up quicker than Dane just did.
“What time’s this dude supposed to meet you?”
I sound tense as hell when asking, but it comes from not hearing from Southside when she got out of practice. I’ve gotten used to checking in, making sure she’s made it home okay. But now that we know our calls and texts are compromised, we agreed to cut off all communication that’s not face-to-face.
Which fucking sucks.
Dane checks the time. “Soon. I should probably head out in a bit.”
The magic number is seven—three for us, two for Southside and Scar, one for Joss, and one for that dick, Ricky.
Problem with being a triplet is that the other two seem to read your mind sometimes. Especially when you don’t want them to.
“Listen, we know you hate the guy, but it’s looking like we might need him.”
Leave it to Sterling to be the voice of reason.
He takes the football off my dresser, then tosses it. I snatch it out of the air, still zoning out.
“Doesn’t mean I have to fucking like it.”
He nods when I finish grumbling. “Never said you had to like it, but he knows things we don’t and has access to things we don’t. Besides, Southside trusts him, so…”
“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” I scoff. “Last thing I need is one of you to start fangirling over this asshole, hanging from his nuts and shit.”
When I pass the ball to Dane with more power than I mean to, he nearly misses it, but mostly because he’s laughing at my grumpy ass.
“Relax. I think Sterling’s just pointing out the obvious—that it makes sense to bring him in on things,” he reasons. “Besides, regardless of whether he’s still holding on to her, everyone with eyes can see Southside’s not into him anymore.”
This just in: I’d level her entire fucking neighborhood if I thought otherwise.
I’m focused on the ball when it soars from Dane’s hands to Sterling’s, then back into mine.
Dane laughs to himself. “If it mak
es you feel any better, Joss thinks it’s ‘sweet’ that you’re jealous.”
I don’t even respond to that shit, because he knows it doesn’t make me feel better.
Sweet, my ass…
“Where is she, anyway?” I ask when he mentions Joss’s name. She’s been hanging with us so much lately it feels weird not having her around, getting on my case about shit.
“The dance squad got roped into being on the Snow Ball committee,” he answers.
Ah, the Snow Ball—Cypress Prep’s annual Christmas dance, another bullshit way to syphon money out of the student body. My aversion to this time of year means I’ve never been. Not even once.
“Yeah, she can keep that shit,” I grumble, falling back on the mattress after I make a clean pass to Dane.
“She’ll find some way to talk us all into going since she’s involved in the planning. Just accept it. It’ll be less painful,” Dane says.
I don’t even have room in my head to think of all the reasons that sounds about as fun as a kick to the balls.
Sterling moves back toward the window and I know he’s counting down, just like I am. We agreed I should wait twenty minutes from the time Vin got in from work—or wherever the hell he’s been—before heading up to see him. That twenty-minute window is just about closed now, which means I’m about to look him in the eyes for the first time since he visited Southside. And as much as she doesn’t want me confronting him, it’d be out of character for me not to. So, if we want him to keep thinking we’re not up to anything, I have to respond the way he’d expect.
By going off on his ass.
I have to be smart, though. He can’t know specifics—about Southside caving and telling the whole truth, that her brother warned her about the phones.
All he needs to know is that I saw Pandora’s update. Translation: he’s about to know once and for all that he fucked up. Royally.
Dane stands and my gaze rises with him. “You heading out?” I ask.