Those Heartless Boys

by E. M. Moore

  “Stop,” I say.

  He slams the door to the classroom, caging me in on the other side. “Or what?” he asks, his eyebrow hitched practically into his hairline. “Or else you might have to think some hard truths yourself? There was money to search for the treasure, but no money for you. Did you ever go hungry, Dakota? From the way you maneuvered around the cafeteria before you moved in with us, I think you have. I saw the scheme in your eyes. What else did he deprive you of, huh? I saw that fucking house you grew up in. Fuck,” Wyatt says, slamming his fist on the other side of the door. “My heart fucking broke. Why do you think Stone could barely stay in it?”

  I swallow, my heart jumping out of my chest. “My dad did what he could.”

  “Bullshit,” Wyatt grinds out. The force of his words hit me full on in the face. I’m at the point in the ride where my stomach is in my throat and I can hardly breathe from screaming so much. “He abused you, and you don’t even get it.”

  “He never touched me,” I growl.

  “There are different ways to be abused. How about neglect? How about emotional abuse? How many times did you stay alone in that house while your dad went out, huh?”

  My mind reels. His words take me back in time, but I refuse to believe anything he’s saying. I can’t. I just can’t. “You weren’t there. You don’t know.”

  “You’re right, I wasn’t. I wasn’t always there. But I saw the scared girl in the mountains sometimes. The one that jumped as soon as her dad said something. The one that ate his words up like they were the gold we were all searching for.”

  I close my eyes. I wish Wyatt away, but he keeps moving closer. He’s in my space, his chest only a hair’s breadth away from my own.

  “You’re twenty, and you’ve never even been outside of Clary, Dakota.” His voice shakes. “Your dad’s lucky he’s gone because if he ever comes back, I’m going to kick his ass.”

  “Fuck you,” I spit, shoving him off me finally.

  He doesn’t relent though. He gets right back in my face. “Get mad. You should be. He stole your life from you.”

  “No,” I scream through clenched teeth.

  “He did,” Wyatt says much more calmly now, backing me right into the door again. He cups my face. “I saw you when you tried on those boots. A girl who never had not only new shoes, but shoes that actually fit. Ask me how that happened, Dakota?”

  “He got them second-hand,” I say, voice shaking. It wasn’t his fault.

  “And there were never shoes your size? I’m calling bullshit again. I don’t believe it. There’s a difference between being poor and neglect, and I don’t think your dad ever cared whether you had shoes that fit, and I think somehow in your head, you just went with it. You made up excuses because it was easier to think there weren’t shoes your size instead of realizing your daddy just didn’t care enough to buy you ones that fit. That’s what I think.”

  He drops his head to mine, and I suck in a breath. My body is vibrating. I’m at war with myself. “Why do you care?”

  He takes a while to answer, his blue eyes darting to different areas of my face before he says, “I’m not sure yet.”

  As soon as the last word leaves his mouth, he moves forward. He claims my lips, pressing into them with a hunger that takes me off guard. He doesn’t ravish me. He doesn’t kiss me until we’re breathless for more. He just leaves his lips on mine in a transfer between two souls, who in that moment, are connected outside of reality.

  As quick as it started, he pulls away. He reaches for the handle, opening the door and marching away. He leaves me there, my mind in a merry-go-round of emotions. I stay leaning against the door until Lucas comes looking for me. He puts his arm around my shoulders and leads me from the room. He doesn’t say anything, but I already know. They tell each other everything.

  I told myself I had to go to the computer lab to finally work on that English paper I lost when my laptop was stolen, but after everything that’s happened, I find myself being led to the silver Audi in the parking lot where Wyatt is nowhere to be seen. It’s just Stone, sitting in the driver’s seat with sunglasses on. They unnerve me because I can’t see anything he’s thinking. When he sees me get close, he just looks out the front windshield, one hand on the wheel and the other on the gear clutch, waiting.

  Lucas pulls the passenger side door open for me, but I shake my head. “I’ll sit in the back.”

  No one speaks on the way back to Jacobs Manor. No one explains where Wyatt went even though we all left this morning in the same car, so I have no idea how he’s even going to get home. When they pull into the driveway, I get out first, slinking to my room. I’m not in the mood to be around anyone tonight. At least for a little while. Besides, it’s better off that I’m not. I have to make a decision about this contract.

  When I hole myself in my room, Lucas knocks on the door, but I don’t answer him. He’s such a gentleman that he doesn’t even force his way in. He knows I need my space right now. Because of the contract and because of what Wyatt said to me.

  I spend too much time staring at the ceiling, sifting through my childhood memories to see if what Wyatt said has any merit. Then, I decide that I’m the only one who gets to decide what happened to me. He can’t talk me into having daddy issues. Why would anyone want to do that?

  On the other hand, some of his comments make sense. Dad never asked me my sizes. I thought it was because we both didn’t know. But he could’ve taken me to the stores to figure it out just like we did yesterday. Like Wyatt said, it’s highly unlikely there was never any clothing my size, even in the second-hand shops.

  But he’s a guy, right? What would he care about styles and sizes and—

  I scream into my pillow, punching the bed. My dad is the only person I have. He’s been my only person. I can’t just sit here and think poorly of him. I’m trying to find him for Christ’s sake. I need to. As soon as I do, this will all blow away. They’ll see what kind of father he really is.

  Even though I’ve practically memorized the contract, I read through it again, trying to think of different ways it can be interpreted, but it actually can’t. It’s ironclad, just like Stone Jacobs said it would be. He’s offering me a lifeline here. I’m more of a fairy tale girl, so I’d rather something like this be signed in blood, but I guess black ink will do. When we sign this, we’ll be bonded in more ways than one.

  After a couple of hours, I leave my room to find Lucas and Stone outside by the pool. They’ve ordered subs which are still wrapped on the patio table. Lucas is doing laps in the pool, but as soon as he sees me emerge, he pulls himself out in all of his bare-chested glory. I try not to stare. If I’m going to be working with these guys for the duration of this contract, then I have to get used to being around them like this. Plus, I have a feeling I can see Lucas shirtless any time I want now, and that gives me a tremendous shot of adrenaline.

  He pulls a towel off a patio chair and starts wiping his chest down with it. A crease forms in his brow as he watches me, and I almost feel sorry for shutting him out. Being around people is something I have to get used to. I’m not used to having anyone around. Going to college and living in the dorms was a major adjustment. I’ve been doing nothing but navigating different waters since I matriculated into Saint Clary’s, but now there’s Wyatt, Stone, and Lucas, too.

  “We got subs,” Stone offers, sliding his sunglasses off and setting them on the table. He eyes the contract in my hand, but he doesn’t say anything. It feels like we’re miles away from where we were yesterday when he had his hands on me. “We didn’t know what you liked, so we bought a bit of everything.”

  It definitely looks like they bought a tray big enough for a huge party. I’ve had lunch meat before, but I’ve never had them on sub rolls. Just plain old white bread for me and Dad, and lots of times, we didn’t even have mayonnaise or anything like that to put on it. I suppose by Wyatt’s standards, that means I was neglected.

  I’m itching to ask where he is, but
I can’t quite bring myself to do it. I shouldn’t want to know. In fact, I’m a little terrified at seeing him next because I don’t want to get in a fight again, I certainly don’t want him to keep pushing me.

  “What do you suggest?” I ask Stone.

  He almost reels back. Almost. He catches himself so he only looks slightly flummoxed. Still, I take pride in knowing I’ve surprised him again. He picks up one of the sandwiches and hands it to me. “This is what I like. Do you want to try it?”

  I nod, peeling the wrapper down. I don’t even check what’s in the sandwich before biting down. I figure I’d rather not know in case the looks of it deters me from eating. I chew, and at first, it’s really good. I smile and give Stone a thumbs up but in the next moment, I chomp down on something hot. As fuck. My eyes widen, and I start to choke. I can’t help but spit out the taste that’s in my mouth and even then, my tongue is on fucking fire.

  Stone chuckles in front of me. I want to hurl his dumb sandwich at him, but I keep coughing. Lucas hurries over to the outdoor sink, pouring me a drink of water and then bringing it over so I can down it. When I finally regain my composure, I ask, “What in the hell was that?”

  Stone takes the sub from me, chuckling. “They’re called peppers.”

  “Dear God. They’re fucking awful.”

  He hands me another sub, telling me it’s tamer, and then laughs as he takes a huge bite out of the sub I gave back to him.

  I grumble at him, this time opening up the sub he gave me to see what’s in it, so I don’t have a repeat of what just happened. Instead, I’m happy to see that there’s ham, cheese, lettuce, and mayonnaise on this one. Plain Jane. I guess that’s the way I like it.

  “You could’ve started her out with a little less heat,” Lucas says, rolling his eyes as he sits next to me.

  I hungrily eat the sub in my hands. One, because it tastes good, but two, because it helps tame the fire that’s still raging inside my mouth.

  “I’ll keep that in mind for next time,” Stone says. “I forget that she hasn’t...” He trails off, peeking at me like he doesn’t want to say the wrong thing which is a brand new look for him. Usually, he doesn’t give a fuck. “...you know, tried stuff before,” he says, all politically correct as if he hasn’t been the biggest douche to me before.

  Stone’s phone rings, and he brings it out. He frowns down at it then stands, shoving the chair back. “Fuck,” he roars.

  Lucas’s hands flex on the glass table. “What?”

  “It’s Wyatt. Goddammit. I knew I shouldn’t have let him go off by himself.” Stone eyes me then Lucas. “We have to go get him.”

  “Shit,” Lucas says. “Is he—?”

  “Yep.”

  Lucas runs his hands through his hair. He takes a sub, then helps me wrap mine up. “Come on, Wild Girl. We have to go save Wyatt.”

  30

  We’ve been speeding down desert roads for forty-five minutes, my heart in my throat. I’m sitting in the back of the Audi with a fierce grip on the two seats in front of me. Lucas and Stone don’t talk. Stone’s intense concentration on the road is both terrifying yet oddly satisfying since he’s driving like a crazy person, and Lucas has a death grip on the handle above the car door, leaning forward like he could make the car go even faster if he tried.

  The scenery blurs by so fast, I couldn’t enjoy it even if I tried. We hit the limits of a city. The welcome sign whirs past before I can even think to see where we are. My mouth drops as the lights from houses, street posts, and other cars, light up the horizon like twinkling stars. I thought I had to look up to see that much light, but I was wrong. In a way, the city lights are just as beautiful. So much life. So much activity.

  A car honks at us as Stone cuts him off. His jaw feathers like it’s a personal affront. It’s dark out now, which is another reason why the city lights are so bright, but it also lets a hint of fear creep in. I don’t know where we are. I don’t know where we’re going, and I certainly don’t understand why Wyatt needs saving.

  Eventually, Stone slows the car, veering toward a highway exit. The tires squeal as he makes the turn, merging onto a different highway. A couple of miles down the road, he slows again, and I blink to make sure I’m seeing correctly. Chain-link fences loom into view. Barbwire tops bow out over the road. The straight line of fencing goes on for as far as street lamps light up the side of the road.

  “Where the hell are we?” I ask, but in the next instant, the answer looms into view in the form of a sign. My gaze catches on the word prison. “Why is Wyatt here?”

  Without answering, Stone drives up to a guard station. The guard comes out with a gun, sighing when he sees Stone, who immediately holds up his hand. “I know. I’m getting him out now.”

  “Man, you know we can’t keep doing this.”

  “I didn’t realize he was that bad again,” Stone says to the guy holding a gun. A fucking gun. I mean, my dad had a gun that we took into the mountains with us, but that was for shooting poisonous snakes. This gun is for... Well, I guess to keep the people who are inside staying inside, which is a good thing. I can’t keep my eyes off it as Stone drives into an inner perimeter. A parking lot opens up that’s surrounded by another round of gates and fences with a thick, high wall. We can’t even see the prison proper yet. Not that I want to. Nerves skate over my body. This place is terrifying. This is only my second time out of Clary, and I’m at a prison. I never thought I’d see the day.

  Stone leans forward, gazing out the window. He picks up speed when a shadow in the corner moves. The bright lights shining down from above, cast Wyatt’s imprint on the pavement in four different directions. When he sees us coming, he plops down on his ass.

  Stone parks the car. “I’ll get him,” he huffs.

  He exits the car, shoves his hands into his pockets, and strides up to Wyatt. I lean forward while I watch Stone and Wyatt talk. “What’s going on?” I ask.

  “Wyatt has a past,” Lucas says softly, sighing as he watches the scene. It’s obvious Wyatt is shit-faced. Stone pulls him to his feet and the cowboy nearly takes them both down when he struggles to stay upright. “We all do.”

  “But prison?” I ask, wondering what the hell has happened in Wyatt’s past that he would end up here. Of all places. I don’t know much about the outside world. Obviously. But this place doesn’t seem like some ordinary jail either.

  “Yeah,” Lucas says on an exhale. “Here. Always here.”

  Stone has to almost carry Wyatt to the car. Lucas hops out, moving to the backseat to open the door for them. As carefully as they can, they help Wyatt into the back who has no problem sprawling out. His head starts out on my shoulder then falls because he lacks the strength to keep it upright. It finally ends in my lap. I take his cowboy hat off carefully and then stroke my fingers through his matted, dark hair.

  “Do you want me to sit in the back with him?” Lucas asks.

  At that, Wyatt grips me tight, pulling himself into a more comfortable position. I shake my head. “No, I’m good.”

  Lucas shuts the back door and then jogs around the rear of the car to get in the front again. When Stone gets in, he puts the car into gear and we’re on the move once again. He lifts his fingers from the steering wheel to wave at the guard whose hard frown lines are impossible to miss.

  Stone lets out a breath. “They’re not going to let this keep happening. My last name only goes so far.”

  Wyatt turns onto his back, his hand moving out and falling against the backseat near my head. I have to slide out of its trajectory before it hits me. “I fucked up,” he grumbles.

  “Huh?”

  Lucas turns around from the backseat. “Don’t mind him. He blabbers when he’s shitfaced.”

  I nod, and he drops his gaze to my steadying strokes through Wyatt’s hair. Without his cowboy hat, he looks younger. His face holds a more youthful expression, or perhaps that’s because he doesn’t have the strength to keep the hard glint in his eyes he usually carries. />
  I’m not over what he said earlier, but this guy, the one in front of me right now, is obviously broken. At least in this moment.

  “She probably won’t talk to me again,” he says on a sigh.

  Stone’s heavy gaze meets mine in the mirror, and it’s then that I realize Wyatt is talking about me. His words are slurred, almost as if he’s talking in his sleep. I guess this would be more aptly described as talking while passed the fuck out. “How did he even get the alcohol?” I ask the guys.

  Lucas shrugs. “How does Wyatt ever do anything? When he sets his mind to something, he just gets it done. He probably took an Uber all the way here and made the driver stop at a convenience store off one of the exits.”

  I think back through our conversation earlier at school. Something isn’t adding up. I’m not sure what I said or did that would’ve caused him to do this. He’s the one who yelled at me, after all.

  “Girls are bitches, man,” he grumbles.

  A growl works its way up my throat, but Lucas turns to put his hand on my knee. He shakes his head. “That’s not about you,” he whispers. Louder, he says. “We know, man. Everything’s good.”

  “She killed my father.”

  Horror rips through me, and I gasp.

  Those words were quieter than the others, but I’m sure I heard him right. I try to twist them into saying something completely different but when I lift my gaze and see Stone staring back at me, I know there’s no way I heard it wrong. Someone killed Wyatt’s father.

  “We know, man,” Lucas says.

  I keep running my hand through his hair. He sighs into me, finally curling up until soft snores signal that he’s sleeping it off. I guess there’s the reason why Wyatt has issues with women? Whoever this “she” is fucked him up.