Holding onto Hadley (Chasing the Harlyton Sisters Book 3)

by Jessica Sorensen

  Of course, my thoughts get distracted as he rounds the front of his SUV to climb in, and a tall, curvy girl with long blonde hair stops him before he can get in. She starts talking to him. Or more like flirting since she keeps laughing at him and touching his arm.

  I once made a joke about how she was the kind of girl that’d look good with Blaise, how they’d be a super pretty couple. I was only mostly kidding when I said it, but seeing them standing by each other, I realize they do look good together. And I don’t like the way that revelation bothers me.

  See, this is why you’ve stayed away from guys. Because they’re distracting and complicated things.

  To keep myself from staring at them, I focus on picking the chipped fingernail polish off my fingernails. I also make a mental note to inform Rhyland that Blaise does know how to flirt, since he once tried to convince me he didn’t.

  About a minute later Blaise climbs into the car.

  “Sorry about that,” he says, shutting the door. “Layla had a couple of questions about the notes we took in history class today. Honestly, it’s kind of weird she asked me. Usually people keep their distance from me and my brothers. And I’m not really the guy you ask for notes.”

  “I think she was hitting on you,” I tell him, rotating in my seat to face him.

  “I got that vibe too.” He starts up the engine. “I’m not sure why, though? I know girls check me out and everything and who can blame them.” He flashes me a smirk to which I respond with the most dramatic eye roll ever. “But they’re usually too scared of my last name and what it means to actually flirt with me. Well, except for Amelia, but she’s straight up crazy. Plus, her father could probably give my father a run for his craziness.” He sighs, gripping the wheel.

  I almost say: oh trust me, I know. Luckily, I catch myself or else I’d have to explain how I know his father is as batshit crazy as Axel, and I can’t tell Blaise about the deal I made with his dad.

  “Maybe you’re not as scary as you think,” I manage to get out a teasing remark. “Maybe your pretty boy looks are becoming more prominent by the day and people don’t find it very scary anymore.” I give him a sly grin. “Pretty boys really aren’t that scary. Well, unless you’re allergic to prettiness, which I totally am.”

  A smile quirks at the corners of his lips as he steers his SUV out of the parking space. “Bullshit.”

  “It’s complete un-bullshit.”

  “Un-bullshit?” he questions, highly amused.

  “It’s totally a word,” I say with a sassy grin. “In my dictionary, which is the dictionary you really should start living by.”

  “And what’s this dictionary called?” he plays along. “You know, so I can purchase a copy and memorize all the words.”

  “I’m not sure you can do that. There’s like a millionbagillon of them, which is a lot.”

  He chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re so adorable sometimes.”

  I hold up my hand. “You so did not just say that to me.” When he grins, I lean over and lightly pinch his arm. “Take that back, Blaise Porterson, before I throw up all over the floor of your car.”

  “Why would that make you throw up?” he wonders.

  “Um, because I’m almost as allergic to adorableness as I am prettiness,” I say like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

  But it should be because I’m not adorable. At all.

  He fights back a smile. “If that’s the case then you must be allergic to yourself.”

  I gag. “Oh my God, cheesy overload. And if you don’t knock it off, I may have to kick your ass.”

  “Please don’t tease me, stubborn girl,” he quips as he slows down to exit the parking lot.

  “You think my ass kickings are amusing?” I question. “Because I’m betting your balls wouldn’t agree with that.”

  He winces, one of his hands drifting toward his crotch. “Yeah… I get your point.”

  I smile to myself, completely entertained until I become aware of the fact that I’m sitting here with him, joking around and laughing like it’s the easiest thing in the world to do.

  Before I can over analyze that—which I was about to—the back door to the SUV flies open and Rhyland dives into the backseat.

  Blaise and I both startle, nearly jumping out of our seats. Then Blaise taps the brakes.

  “Jesus Christ, Rhy.” Blaise grips the wheel and shakes his head. “You damn near gave me a heart attack.”

  “That makes two of us.” I blow out a shaky exhale, trying to get my heart rate to calm the hell down. Then I turn around in the seat to look at Rhyland. “Okay, so do you normally jump in the back of moving cars or is this just some random thing you decided to do today?”

  He grins at me as he situates in the seat. “Actually, I was trying to chase down a pretty girl.”

  I elevate a brow. “I sure as hell hope you’re not talking about me.”

  “I actually am.” He scoots forward in the seat. “I come bearing a message for you.”

  “From who?” Blaise and I ask simultaneously.

  “Aw, look at the two of you. So in sync with each other.” When I give him an unimpressed look, he retorts with an innocent smile. “What?”

  “Don’t start with that shit,” I warn, aiming a finger at him. “And tell me about this message.”

  His gaze flits from Blaise to me. Then he scratches his brow, seeming uneasy. “Austin told me to tell you that he has information for you about that thing you discussed with him earlier today.”

  Blaise’s gaze snaps in my direction. “What?”

  When I make no effort to explain, Blaise grits his teeth.

  “But anyway.” Rhyland clears his throat. “He said if you’ll meet up with him, he’ll tell you what he found out. He actually wanted me to give him your number, but I refused to, not just because I think it’s a terrible fucking idea for Austin to have your number, but I also don’t have it.” He gives me a joking stern look. “Which I’m trying not to feel too hurt about, but I kind of am.”

  “No one has my number except for my sisters.” I pause. “Well, and him.” I nod at Blaise.

  Rhyland’s gaze shifts from Blaise to me then a knowing smile touches his lips. “Interesting.”

  I give him a dirty look.

  For the last couple of days, Rhyland has been suggesting that Blaise and I secretly like each other and that are arguing is our way of flirting. While I find his accusations annoying, the more time I spend with Blaise, the more difficult it becomes to defend myself against Rhyland’s accusations.

  “What’s really interesting is that you and Austin were having a conversation.” Blaise glances at me, worry filling his eyes. “Is it about what happened yesterday? Is his dad having him keep an eye on you or something?”

  I shake my head, facing forward in the seat. “No. Austin approached me today and said he might be able to help me find the bags my dad stole. That there’s some surveillance guy who may have information, but is holding onto it because he wants to get something out of it.” I tuck a strand of my hair behind my ear. “He gave me this big speech about how that’s how things work in his father’s world. And your father’s.”

  Blaise works his jaw from side to side. “He’s right about that, but I don’t believe for one second that he has a way of getting information about the bags. Axel treats Austin like shit, which means Axel’s men treat Austin like shit, and they aren’t going to give him important information. And I know this because our dad treats us the same way.” He trades a look with Rhyland, who swallows hard.

  “Yeah, I guess I kind of understand that,” I mutter, thinking about how my dad treats me and my sisters like crap, and how he took off and left us to deal with this mess.

  All it’d take is one phone call to tell us where the bags are, but so far, we haven’t heard a word from him, which makes me wonder if perhaps he has the bags with him.

  I really need to check the backyard and see if that other bag is still buried there.
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  “Yeah, I think you kind of do too.” Blaise reaches over and grazes his finger along the back of my hand.

  A shiver begs to roll through me, but I stop it before it starts, knowing it’s too warm in the cab to blame any shivering on me being cold.

  Rhyland sharply clears his throat. “Okay, I don’t want to say this because I know it’s probably going to piss you guys off, but I’m going to say it anyway, because it needs to be said.” He slumps back in the seat and crosses his arms. “You guys are nauseatingly cute.”

  I throw a glare at him. “And you’re about to be nauseated.”

  A sparkle twinkles in his eyes. “Why? Are you two going to start making out?”

  “No. I’m about to punch you in the balls,” I quip. “And from what I’ve heard, if I hit you with just enough force, you might puke.”

  He bites back a smile. “You’re so snarky.”

  “And you’re a troublemaker,” I retort. “I didn’t think so when I first met you. I thought you were the nice one, but now I’ve decided that you’re just a bit more sneaky about causing trouble than your brothers are. Well, minus Jaxon.”

  His brows rise. “That’s an interesting observation. Makes me wonder what you think about Blaise.”

  The first word that pops into my mind is: sweet. Is he cocky? Sure. Although, I feel like a lot of that cockiness is directed at me. But underneath his arrogance, Blaise is a sweet guy.

  “I need to get gas,” Blaise mumbles suddenly.

  Then he veers into a parking lot of a nearby gas station, slams to a stop in front of a pump, and hops out without saying another word.

  “He seems annoyed.” I watch through the window as Blaise pushes buttons on the gas pump.

  “I don’t think he is,” Rhyland mutters, staring at Blaise through the window. “I think he’s confused.”

  I glance at him. “Over what?”

  He shrugs, looking at me. “Over you.”

  What? “What did I do?”

  “Nothing really. He just likes you, but I think he’s confused about it. And confused about how you feel.”

  “I like him the same way he likes me,” I insist. “As a friend. And FYI, I think you’re wrong about him not having the ability to flirt. He was totally flirting with this girl in the school parking lot before we left.”

  He rolls his eyes. “That’s total bullshit.”

  “It’s total un-bullshit. Her name is Janie and she was touching him and smiling at him like he was the prettiest guy in the world.” Which he could very well be, but like hell I’m going to say that aloud.

  “Sounds like she was flirting with him. Not the other way around.”

  “No, he flirted back.” Didn’t he?

  Rhyland gives a lazy shake of his head. “I really doubt that. And honestly, at this point, I think you might be a little clueless when it comes to flirting.”

  I narrow my eyes at him. “Wow, way to be harsh, dude.”

  “Sorry, but it’s true.” He gives an unapologetic shrug. “I also think you might be a bit clueless about whether or not a guy sees you as more than a friend.”

  “If you’re referring to Blaise, you’re wrong. We’re just friends.”

  He heaves a sigh. “Please don’t be like that, sweetheart. If you’d just be honest with yourself, you’d see that Blaise doesn’t like you as just a friend. I told you he’s never really hit on anyone except for you. And he spent all night letting you cry all over his shirt.”

  “Friends do that for each other,” I insist, but squirm a bit. “And don’t call me sweetheart.”

  He starts to smile, but then his lips tug downward. “I know I’ve been pushing you guys into admitting you like each other, but if you really do just see him as a friend, I think you should take a step back from whatever this thing is going on between you two.” His gaze strays to his brother. “Before someone gets hurt.”

  “Why can’t Blaise and I just be friends and spend a lot of time together?” I question. “Not every guy/girl relationship has to lead to a boyfriend/girlfriend thing.”

  “I know that.” He looks at me again. “But Blaise likes you. I can tell, even if he won’t admit it. And yeah, I know, I’m kind of ratting out my brother right now, but he’s been through a lot and I think it could end up really messing him up if you don’t reciprocate his feelings.” He sighs, yanking his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry. I know I probably sound like an asshole, but I’m trying to look out for my brother because no matter what he says, he’s not as tough as he pretends to be.”

  “I get that,” I tell him. “I act tough in front of my sisters, and I think Blaise is kind of that way with you guys.”

  “He is. And most of the time he gets so caught up in us that he forgets to take care of himself, kind of like how I’m guessing you do.”

  I dismiss his statement with a flick of my wrist. “Nah, I take care of myself just fine.”

  His eyes wander to the bruise on my face then his brow curves upward. “Was that the first time your dad hit you?”

  I smash my lips together, wanting to lie, wanting to be tough, but the words won’t seem to leave my lips.

  “I figured so.”

  “And why’s that?” I sound more defensive than I mean to, but I feel really exposed at the moment.

  The Portersons know too much about me.

  He rolls his tongue in his mouth, studying me for a moment. Then he tugs the sleeve of his shirt up. Just along his bicep are mounds of elevated scars.

  “What happened?” I whisper, but deep down I think I have a good idea of the answer.

  “My father’s an asshole and a pyro, among a million other things.” He yanks down the sleeve of his shirt, covering up the scars. “The really shitty part is those aren’t the first scars he put on me. Blaise has had it worse, though, because he always tries to take the fall when one of us fucks up. Kind of like what he’s doing with you.”

  “I never asked him to do that,” I reply, feeling awful. “He offered and I just didn’t have anyone else to turn to and I…”

  He hurriedly slides forward in the seat and places a hand over mine. “Hey, I didn’t mean that he shouldn’t help you. I just…” He gives my hand a squeeze. “Just don’t break his heart, okay?”

  Every one of my instincts scream for me to say that Blaise and I don’t like each other enough for me to have the power to break his heart, but instead I find myself nodding.

  “Okay. I won’t.”

  He relaxes a drop. “Thanks.” He examines me for a second. “You know, I think you’re not quite as snarky as I first thought.”

  I snort a laugh. “Oh no, I’m totally snarky. And I like being that way.”

  “Yeah, but you’re also kind of sweet underneath all the sarcasm and toughness.”

  I glare at him. “You did not just call me sweet.”

  He sinks his teeth into his bottom lip, chuckling. “And cute.”

  “Rhyland,” I warn. “Stop insulting me or your balls are gonna pay.”

  He busts up laughing. “Only you’d see me calling you cute and sweet as an insult.”

  “It is an insult,” I insist, trying to remain pissed off because, hello, he just called me cute and sweet, but, I don’t know, something about Rhyland’s laughter is a bit contagious.

  “Look at you, trying to be pissed off,” he jokes through his laughter. “Now that’s fucking cute.”

  “Dude, I warned you.” I start to lean over the seat, pretending like I’m going to hit him in the balls.

  Really, I’m not. I just want to scare him.

  Apparently, Rhyland doesn’t think I’m that scary though, and he only laughs harder. I could smack him, maybe punch him in the dick, but he’s not really doing anything that justifies a dick punch, no matter how much I want to do it.

  “You’re lucky,” I say, lowering my hand onto my lap.

  “Why’s that?” Rhyland asks, his eyes stained with tears of laughter.

  “Because during t
his car ride, I’ve wanted to punch you in the balls twice, but I have some self-control. Although, if you keep it up, I may lose it.”

  He scoots forward in his seat, a wicked grin playing at his lips. “Those are some big threats coming from your cute mouth.”

  Shaking my head, I ball my hand into a fist. “You know what? Screw this whole self-control thing.” I move to hit him.

  I’m not really going to. I just want to make him flinch, which he totally does, but then laughter tickles his lips again. I give him a nasty look right as the driver’s side door swings open and Blaise climbs in.

  His gaze skates between the two of us and then a crinkle forms at his brows as his eyes settle on Rhyland. “Why does it look like Hadley’s about to punch you and you find it amusing?”

  Rhyland lifts a shoulder, a mischievous glint sparkling in his eyes. “Because that’s exactly what was happening.”

  “You didn’t find it amusing.” I smirk. “You totally flinched.”

  “I had an itch in my eye,” he insists, reclining back in his seat.

  “Liar,” I argue, but I’m on the verge of smiling.

  A real smile too.

  How that’s happening with everything going on is a mystery, but I’ll enjoy it while I can.

  The smile is short-lived, though, as Blaise pulls back onto the street and I spot the same car I saw this morning driving just behind us.

  I’m about to ask Blaise if he knows who it belongs to when he mutters a string of curses.

  “What’s up?” Rhyland asks, casting a glance behind.

  Blaise shakes his head, his gaze flicking at the rearview mirror. “I think one of dad’s lackey’s is following us.”

  My heart slams against my chest. “That car was following me this morning.”

  Blaise attention snaps in my direction. “What?”

  I nod. “When I drove to school this morning, I noticed it.”

  His grip on the wheel constricts. “Why didn’t you say anything about this earlier?”

  I shrug. “It slipped my mind.”

  “How did a car following you slip your mind?” he asks in astonishment.

  I give him a duh look. “Because I have a bunch of other shit taking up space in my brain.”