by Rachel Jonas
I hold my breath, watching to see how things will play out.
“I told you, I’m involved with someone,” Scar explains.
Linden doesn’t seem defeated in the least by hearing my sister tell him again why she’s off limits.
“So you keep saying,” he smirks.
“And yet, you insist on backing me into a corner,” Scar shoots back.
Linden’s smile grows and he does that thing again, where he eye-bangs my sister so hard I feel dirty witnessing it.
“You’re not gonna make this easy for me, are you?”
Scar smirks when he asks. “Not only will I not make it easy, I’ll make it impossible.”
Instead of letting that deter him, his masochistic ass smiles at her. “So, I take it that’s a no on giving me your number.”
“Oh, it’s a big no,” she clarifies.
Linden nods, biting the side of his lip as he slips both hands back inside his pockets. “At least give me your socials. What’s the harm in that?”
He’s not begging, but he’s definitely being persistent as hell.
Shaking her head, Scar laughs a bit. “It was great meeting you, Linden. Goodbye.”
With that, she offers a cheeky grin and starts toward the bus but isn’t quite fast enough. Linden manages to get a hold of her when she passes, and if his light grip on her hand was enough to halt her, it means she wanted to be stopped.
“Don’t make me stalk you, Scarlett.” He croons his warning with a wicked smirk. One that makes Scar’s own smile dim a bit. However, I’m convinced this shift has nothing to do with being put off by Linden’s intensity. If anything—based solely on who our mother is, and how we’re both a little broken because of it—I’d say she likes it.
Scar blinks into Linden’s gaze while slowly pulling out of his grasp. Her eyes flit to his parted lips, and then meet his stare again.
“Give it your best shot,” is her parting challenge.
Linden eyes her as she passes, not bothering to stop her this time, but he keeps his gaze trained in her direction long after she’s disappeared inside the bus. Watching him now, I wonder if he’s questioning the same thing I am.
Were Scar’s words meant as a deterrent? Or were they an invitation?
“Ready?” West asks, stealing my attention. “We should get going so we’re not late.”
I glance toward Linden one last time before nodding.
“Yeah, let’s go.”
West’s hand rests against the small of my back and we say our last goodbyes. For so many reasons, this was a trip to remember. In a few hours we’ll be back in Cypress Prep, back where we’ll have to face our problems head on, but I have to believe there will be a break in Roby’s investigation soon. Especially now that we’ve made a connection between Vin and Paul Ruiz. I’m not sure what good it will do yet, but I choose to believe things will start to go our way soon.
I mean, they have to.
Right?
QweenPandora: Incoming, lovelies!
It appears Cypress Prep Royalty has landed. Still no word on where TheGoldenCrew has been all week, but they certainly look well-rested. Perhaps a bit of time away from the city is just what the doctor ordered.
But be careful, oh royal ones. We’ve all heard the age-old adage of how absence makes the heart grow fonder, but I have a theory of my own. Perhaps fondness of heart isn’t the only emotion one’s absence might feed.
Could the same hold true for hatred? Guess we’ll all just have to wait and see.
Later, Peeps.
—P
Chapter 30
BLUE
Home sweet home.
Or… something like that, I guess.
I stare at the rickety security door at the front of our small place and beat back the heaviness that tries creeping in. It’s stifling and palpable.
It’s possible that things could turn out just fine. Don’t think the worst.
Scar says her goodbyes to the boys and Joss, then slides out of the backseat. I, on the other hand, am a bit more reluctant to head inside. Getting to spend nearly a week with West felt more like an eternity. In all the best ways, of course. If it never ended, that still would’ve been too soon.
“Already turned off the alarm,” West says, flashing his phone screen toward me. His tone is solemn, much like his expression.
“What if I don’t want to go back—to real life, to being worried all the time? What if I don’t want to go back in there?” I ask.
My hand warms in West’s when he takes it and holds me captive in his stare.
“I didn’t let my grandfather’s offer go in one ear and out the other,” he says. “If it gets to be too much here, we’ve got options.”
I imagine it—life in Dupont Bayou, the clean air and serenity.
But then, I think about our college plans—how hard West worked to earn his spot at NCU, the hell I went through to get accepted at Cypress Valley. If it were a short-term fix that would keep Scar safe, I’d do it in a heartbeat, but our problems won’t simply go away because we’re not here to face them. Eventually, we’d return and Vin would still be here, more powerful than ever.
“It’s a nice idea, but… we have to find another way,” I say quietly.
Lucky for us, Dane and Sterling are keeping up so much noise in the back, West and I are allowed to speak candidly without being heard.
He nods, seeming to understand my reasoning, but doesn’t say a word. Instead, he climbs out to meet Scar at the trunk to unload our things. As expected, he carries it all himself, making it look easy when he walks beside me, headed toward the back door. It’s closest to the laundry room where we need to dump our things and get them clean. Somehow, washing clothes just ranked very low on our list of things to do while we were away.
We round the corner, thinking we’ll head right in after I unlock the door, but the three of us stop dead in our tracks. Never in a million years did I expect this when coming home.
It’s like seeing a ghost as I stare at Mike, clean and sober for the first time since… well, shit. I can’t even remember when I’ve last seen him sober. He’s wearing sweats, a long-sleeve thermal, and a dark beanie he didn’t leave here in, but not much else.
He seems startled when he lays eyes on us, rushing to stand from where he’s been waiting on the steps. His eyes dart back and forth between me and Scar several times, and then to West for a moment. He seems to be at a loss for words, finding it difficult to hold anyone’s gaze.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
He peers up when I ask, swallowing hard before answering. “I was released today. A few hours ago,” he explains. “I don’t have my keys or anything to let myself in. You know, since I wasn’t exactly in my right mind when I left.”
I fold both arms over my chest, glaring at him. “No, you were drunk off your ass,” I hiss. “Just say what it is, Mike.”
My words seem to cut like a knife, and I don’t even care. His words have been slicing into my flesh, my soul, my entire life.
“I—you’re right,” he concedes, lowering his gaze to the pavement. “I was just hoping you’d let me in so we could talk and—”
“Find someplace else to stay. We don’t need you.”
Again, he stares, but doesn’t seem surprised by my reaction to him showing up here like he hasn’t been raising hell in our home for years. Breathing heavily because I’m in shock and trying not to lose my shit, I start snatching me and Scar’s bags from West’s hands. All I want is to get inside and close Mike out.
My gaze flashes up toward West, only to find he’s already staring at me, already sympathizing with me.
“Please, Blue, if we can just talk, we—”
“What the fuck don’t you understand?” I snap, yelling at Mike before he even finishes his statement. “I don’t want you here. Neither of us do. So, why don’t you get a head start on falling off the wagon and pull up a stool at the nearest bar. That’s always been more your home than th
is shithole anyway.”
I start toward the door and West speaks up.
“Need me to stick around for a bit?” He’s talking to me, but glaring at Mike.
Shaking my head, I fumble with the keys in the lock. “No, we’re fine. I’ll call you later.”
He doesn’t move, of course. But what does surprise me is that Mike doesn’t bombard his way through the door right behind me and Scar. He’s just standing out there a few yards from West, trying to look like a lost dog. I’m too indifferent to his ass to fall for it, but my sister on the other hand, is not.
She pinches the sleeve of my hoodie when I grip the door to close it. I glance back, meeting her gaze, and I see that same look Mom used to get when she should’ve left Mike outside in the cold.
“But Blue, he looks better. And sad,” she adds. “What if that place fixed him?”
It breaks my heart to hear the hope in her voice, because if there’s one thing I know about Mike, it’s that he will always, always disappoint you.
“Scar, he’s sober right now, but the moment he gets a few drinks in him, it’ll be the same.”
“But it won’t,” Mike speaks up.
My eyes cut to him. “I was talking to my sister. Not you.”
He draws in a deep breath and I see I’ve wounded him again. That shouldn’t feel so good, but it does. Maybe because I’m bitter knowing that, if ever there was a time I could’ve used the comfort of having a real father in our home, it’s now. Instead, I get stuck with this piece of shit.
“Please,” he begs, sounding so broken and pathetic it makes me want to leap down these steps and tackle him on the cement. He doesn’t get to slip in and play this role, doesn’t get to confuse Scar into thinking he’s changed.
“I tried calling,” he rushes to say. “A few times you answered, but I didn’t know what to say so I just said… nothing. I tried again on Scar’s birthday, thinking I finally found the nerve to actually talk to you girls, but you didn’t pick up that time. I figured it was probably because you didn’t recognize the number.”
It’s in this moment that all the mysterious ‘unavailable’ calls finally make sense. Still, a few phone calls don’t make up for having to put up with his B.S.
“We’ve got enough to deal with without having to look after you,” I snap, feeling the sting of angry tears pooling in my eyes.
Mike’s shoulders rise and fall when he breathes deep and I swear it looks like he’s in pain seeing me like this, but that’s not possible. He’s never felt anything for me but resentment.
“I promise I won’t be in the way,” he says sheepishly. “And I’ll—I’ll clean up after myself, help with Scar if you let me, and I’m working on getting a job.”
I scoff when he lays that one on me. How many times have I heard that one before?
“I’m serious, Blue Jay.”
“Don’t call me that,” I snap.
He throws his hands up with hope of calming me, and then changes his tune.
“You’re right. I’m sorry. We’ve got a long road to being okay, but I am serious this time,” he insists. “One of the counselors got me leads on a couple jobs and I’m gonna call and follow up tomorrow.”
I’m not moved in the least, but the feel of Scar discreetly tapping my back means I’m alone in taking this firm stand.
“Please, Blue,” she whispers. “I’m scared what’ll happen if he has to go someplace else.”
I’m mad enough to spit lava right now, but unfortunately, Scar doesn’t understand. She sees the world through a different set of lenses than I do. If I turn him away and he does what I know he’s gonna do—get messed up and prove he’s still the old Mike—she’ll think it’s my fault, think that if I hadn’t been so stubborn it wouldn’t have happened. So, I’m torn.
My gaze flits toward West and I swear he feels me in this moment, feels that I really don’t want to do this, but—
Shit.
“You have one chance not to fuck this up,” I warn. “First sign of your same old bullshit and I’ll have Dusty haul your ass out of here faster than you can give another empty apology. Do you understand me?”
Grateful, he nods.
“I understand, but there won’t be any need for that. I mean it. I’m gonna do right by you girls this time,” he promises, easing past me to step inside.
When I meet West’s wary gaze, I’m full of dread, knowing I’ll regret this later. I shouldn’t be surprised, though. After all, today represents the story of my life—always stuck between a rock and a hard place. So much for easing back into business as usual.
In true Blue Riley form, there was literal shit waiting on the back porch to welcome me home.
Fuck you too, Cypress Pointe.
Seems you’re still the bitch I know and hate.
Chapter 31
WEST
The gym’s loud and crowded, and we have Pandora’s constant reminder posts about tonight’s game to thank for that. She’s been on a roll since school’s started back this week. Typically, girls’ basketball doesn’t get the same fanfare as the guys’, but based on this turnout for game one, that might not be the case this season.
We arrived a little early to grab good seats, and within ten minutes of getting settled, Rodriguez walks in looking like a cult nightmare in her usual all-black attire. She spots us and makes it a point to sit on the opposite side of the bleachers. She’s never liked us, and we’ve never thought much about her.
Until the rumors about her possibly being Pandora started.
Who the hell knows if that’s true, but I’m resigned to keeping my distance from her crazy ass.
“You both owe me for this shit,” Dane announces to Sterling and me, keeping with our tradition of demanding money from each other that we know we’ll never recoup.
He drops down into his seat between me and Joss and I snatch my popcorn off his tray.
“How about I take this off what you owe me for your plane ticket?”
That seems to have jogged his memory as he hands Joss her soda. “Well, yeah. That sounds doable, I guess.”
“Yeah, that’s what I fucking thought,” I add with a laugh.
Another surge of bodies flood through the door.
“Geez, the team must be really good this year,” Joss comments, staring as the swarm scrambles for good seats.
“Either that or our peers are information whores. With Southside being on the team, they knew West would be here,” Sterling says.
Joss thinks about that for a sec and then shrugs, agreeing with Sterling’s deduction.
“But while we’re on the subject of ‘Southside’,” she chimes in again, “isn’t it kind of demeaning that you three still call her that? She’s your girlfriend now, West. Maybe give it a rest? It’s a new year, perfect time to turn over a new leaf.”
I lean forward to peer around Dane’s greedy ass hoovering down popcorn and meet Joss’s gaze. “You’ve met Blue. If it bothered her, please believe she would’ve called me on my shit by now.”
Joss shrugs again. “Guess you’re right.”
I’ve noticed the girls getting closer lately, and I’m guessing we’re reaching that point where it no longer matters that Joss has known me since we were kids, because you know, ‘girl power’ and shit…
I take another handful of popcorn and glance toward the door again. This time, I spot Mike strolling in with Scar. She’s smiling in that blissfully unaware way we all have before our parents do something to permanently mar their images in our eyes. He laughs at something she says, but it’s clear to see he’s on edge. I can tell by how his eyes keep darting toward the empty seats where the team will sit once they come out onto the floor.
My guess? He’s scared shitless about showing up today. Which probably means Blue told him not to come.
I’ve only laid eyes on the guy a handful of times, but this is by far the best I’ve seen him look. His eyes aren’t all glassy, his hair looks clean. Like he might’ve even taken a comb t
o it.
I’m on edge, though, because if I know my girl, she’s gonna be pissed when she sees him. So pissed I actually feel bad for whoever gets stuck guarding her tonight.
She’s been hell on wheels lately, taking her frustration out on others because she’s furious he’s back in the house. So far, he hasn’t violated any of the many, many rules Southside’s laid out for him, but she’s ready and waiting if he does.
It’s crossed my mind that she should consider lightening up on him—mostly for her own sake—but I dare not mention it. She’d bite my head off for sure. So, as someone who knows what a delicate subject family can be, I’ve chosen to mind my own damn business.
So far, so good.
Someone in Maintenance decided it’d be a good idea to set the heat to ‘hell’, so I pull off my hoodie and drop it beside me on the bleachers. However, when I do, I regret it immediately because Joss takes one look at my t-shirt and starts with that sappy B.S. again.
“OMG! How sweet!” She points at my white tee, at the last name ‘Riley’ written in big, bold letters. “And isn’t that your jersey number? She picked the same one so you guys could be all cute and matchy?” she gushes.
“Here we go.”
“I’m just in awe,” she says. “Can we take a moment to talk about this incredible evolution you’ve gone through since the year started?”
“No.”
“Absolutely not.”
“I swear I’ll die if that happens.”
These are the collective responses given by me, Dane, and Sterling, hoping like hell Joss spares us.
She ignores us, of course.
“What brought on this idea? I mean, you’re fully committed to this whole ‘supportive boyfriend’ thing, aren’t you?” she adds with a grin.
“Just doing what she would’ve done for me during football. You know, had I not been such an ass.”
“You were such an ass,” Joss reiterates with a laugh.