by Tijan
Zeke edged forward a step. “We heard about your arrest and came to the station to see if we could help,” he told me. “Cops here are corrupt. If anything, we wanted to let you all know that.”
Blaise motioned between him and Cross. “You and me, that changes everything on our side. I don’t want to be enemies with my half-brother.”
Cross was silent—studying, gauging.
Then, as if it were some cosmic sign, we heard Taz’s voice behind us. “Bren? What are you doing?”
We waited. A full second, two, five.
Jordan cursed and shifted aside.
I turned, knowing she’d see guilt in my eyes, so I tried not to look. But her eyes weren’t on me.
They moved past me, seeing Cross, and then went to the door and beyond.
Her eyes got big, real big.
“Cross? What’s going on?” She moved forward, only stopping because my hand was still on his back.
He had tensed. He was all sorts of stiff, but he turned around, and as our gazes met, a flash of understanding passed between us.
I let him go, and in doing that, we opened the way.
Taz moved the rest of the way to her brother. She frowned at Blaise. “You’re from Fallen Crest. What are you doing here?”
We all waited.
It was Cross’ decision.
“Taz,” he finally said. “This is our half-brother.”
Taz lost her shit. And that was understating it.
She yelled, cried, sobbed, screamed, and folded into a ball. Then she started laughing, shaking her head, threatening her parents, threatening Cross. She turned to me a few times with fire in her eyes.
Blaise took off after five minutes. I was shocked he lasted that long.
Taz was in hysterics, and no one could calm her. The girls came in. Race. Even Z tried a hand. She shoved everyone away, turning and walking out with full heaving sobs wracking through her.
Race looked at Cross.
Cross looked at Race.
“I don’t know what to do,” Race said.
Cross held up his hands. “She lost it on me earlier. I’m sure all of this is from the divorce, me moving out, everything. But I don’t think she needs her brother.” He dipped his head forward. “It’s all you, buddy.”
Race grunted. “Asshole.”
“Love you too.” Cross chuckled.
Race looked back at me before leaving. “Did you want to talk? You mentioned it earlier.”
I waved him off. “No. It can wait. Take care of your woman.”
He ran a tired hand over his face. “Prom has sucked. Thank fuck it’s the last one.”
Z belched and raised a beer in the air. “Here’s to that.”
We found Jordan in the kitchen, leaning back against the counter with his legs spread wide. Tabatha was curled into him, her head resting on his shoulder, her arms around his waist. He had a hand stretched out behind her, resting on the counter. He’d been watching me. He lifted his head toward Cross and Z. He raised an eyebrow in question, but I just shook my head.
It was so fucking late.
I didn’t want to have a meeting. I didn’t want to check in with the crew. Yes, there were things to say, but the fight had left me. Channing was handling things. If I wanted to merely go to bed and cuddle with my boyfriend on prom night, I could. And the world wouldn’t end the next day.
Channing was taking care of me, and for once, I was letting him.
It felt good. It felt damn good.
But that wasn’t good enough for Jordan. He pushed off from the counter. Tabatha pouted, losing her half-standing rock to lean against, but he came over. “No meeting? That’s it? All the shit went down tonight, and we’re doing nothing?”
“Jordan,” I sighed.
“Bren,” he mocked.
“Hey.” A reprimand from Cross.
“Don’t hey me. Don’t do that.” Jordan stepped back, his jaw clenched. “It doesn’t work like that. I’ve grown. I’ve done a lot of growing, but when I see one of mine get arrested, then I have to help tackle another one of mine to keep him from losing his shit at the police station, and now what? Then his sister loses her shit at the after-prom party and what? No more buddy system, but what else? We’re all good? I’m not good. I’m pissed.”
He pointed at Z, at Cross, at me. “I’ve been the rock this time. I’ve been steady, taking on all you guys. Even the one night it was supposed to be about me, it ended up being about you.” His hands went up. “Which I’m fine with, I am, but I’m riled up, and I’ve been feeling threat after threat toward my crew, and now what? Nothing? Go to bed. Fuck your girl? I’m not down for that.”
“Jordan,” Z hissed, his hand on Jordan’s shoulder. “Calm down. Are you listening to what you’re saying?”
“Yes,” he snapped, jerking away. “I want to bust someone’s head in. That’s what we do. Threat comes at us, we fight it off.”
“No, man.” Z shook his head. “You never say you’re not down for fucking. Especially a hot girl that you love. That’s, like, sanctimony or sanctuary, or whatever. I can’t speak real good. I’m a little drunk.”
Jordan ignored him, seething. “I need to do something to protect my crew.”
“Jordan—” Cross stepped toward him.
“I need it!” His eyes were wild, his pulse pounding. I could see a vein bulging in his neck.
He was right. In the last couple months, Jordan had changed. He got a girlfriend. He fell in love. He moved from being the self-proclaimed leader and spokesperson to being the foundation. He was completely right, and because of that, because we could lean on him, we’d loosened the reins on our own shit. We were allowed to fall apart, because he wouldn’t. Because he would be there, pulling us back in, and now, when we were done and sated and had run the gamut of our shit, he wasn’t.
We’d cast him out, but no one was bringing him back in.
Cross looked at me.
There was no decision to be made. Jordan needed us, so that was that.
I murmured, “Let’s go find Drake.”
We piled into one of my brother’s trucks so we had a bigger cab so all four of us could fit. Jordan drove. I was okay with that. He had the edge, not me.
We went to Drake’s parents’ house. No one was there. We went to the local motel. Nothing. We went to the other two smaller hotels nearby. We checked the hotels in Fallen Crest. There was one motel in Frisco, but it was half burned down. Still, we went. We drove past. It was closed down, no vehicles in the parking lot.
We did a swing through the motor home park. Frisco. Fallen Crest. Roussou.
We even ran in and asked at the hospital while we were in Fallen Crest. And as a last-ditch effort, we checked at the Roussou Police Department. They hadn’t arrested him.
We never found Drake.
But we drove. And we drove.
We drove some more.
We drove the rest of the night, into the morning.
We drove until Jordan told us to stop.
When someone needed to eat, we stopped for early breakfast. When someone needed the bathroom, we made a pit stop. We went to gas stations, filled up on coffee, and hopped in the truck for another drive.
We did another full circle, going all the way out to Frisco, through the back roads into Fallen Crest, past Manny’s, and we went the long route that circled back to Roussou. When we neared the city limits, Jordan swung into another gas station. This time to fill up with gas.
Silently, one by one, we all trekked inside. More coffee. Snacks. Whatever we needed.
When we got back on the road, no one said a word. This was for Jordan. We’d keep going until he was sated, and finally, four miles north of Roussou, he turned onto the shoulder of the road and swung the truck around.
“I’m good,” he announced.
So we were going home.
No one made a joke. No one complained. No one did a damn thing. We were here for him in this truck, smelling, sweating, shivering (me), sto
machs growling until we filled them, and now we were half sleep-deprived and half wired from the caffeine.
“Z, you first?”
Zellman yawned, sitting up. He’d had his legs up on the dashboard, his cup in one hand, a half-eaten hot dog in the other. “Nah, man.” He threw a lopsided grin over his shoulder to where Cross and I were in the back. “Let’s take the truck to the lovebirds’ house, get in mine. Tabatha took Sunday home in your truck. I’ll drop you off.”
Jordan didn’t respond; he just drove us home.
When we got there, Zellman and Jordan went to Z’s truck, and Cross lingered on the sidewalk.
No one said goodbye. We just dispersed.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
Z and Jordan heard, stopping.
Cross had his hands in his pockets, his head hanging down. “I, uh, I know I should go in there with you, but Taz. She’s…” He gestured to his head. “She’s been on my mind. I can’t get her out, and I think… I don’t know, I think it’s a twin thing. I think she needs me.”
My eyebrows rose. “You’re going to your house?”
He shrugged. “Or wherever she is. If she’s not at the house, I’ll go to Race’s. I got no problem sneaking in and crashing on their couch. He told us where the key is.” He eyed me. “That okay with you?”
“Yeah.”
I was surprised, because it truly was. I didn’t know if Channing was in our house, but it didn’t matter. I didn’t feel alone walking in there—not the way I used to when I would avoid going home.
“I’ll be fine.”
“You sure?” He took my hands and pulled me in. His lips brushed over mine. “I love you.”
I kissed him back. “I love you.”
He walked backward first, then turned toward his truck. Z and Jordan, seeing we were fine, waved and got into Z’s truck. A second later, they were gone. Cross was waiting for me to get in, so I did. Unlocking the door, I gave him a last wave over my shoulder and stepped inside.
I heard him drive away as I walked into the kitchen. Then the hairs on the back of my neck shot straight up and I froze, mid-step. But there was no one in the kitchen.
I whirled.
There, sitting in the farthest chair in the living room, near the fireplace, was Drake, a poker in hand.
“We need to talk.”
My heart was pounding.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
“Drake.”
It just kept thumping. Loud. Strong.
Using the poker, he shoved himself out of the seat, and even across the room, he seemed to loom over me. He didn’t look good. He had a different edge, harder, more desperate.
He moved toward me.
I backed up. “Stop.”
He didn’t acknowledge me, just put the poker down and resumed his path toward me.
“Come on.” His tone was brisk. His eyes tired. His hair looked like he’d been raking his fingers through it nonstop, and underneath the edge, the desperation, the roughness, was exhaustion. He was resigned—I saw it now as he passed me.
He always had a purpose—everything he did, every move he made. Now, he was just trudging along. Life had weighed him down.
The round face he and his brother both shared was more haggard now, even since I last saw him at the store. His dark eyes looked almost washed out, and I hadn’t noticed in the store, but he’d lost some of his bulk. He was thinning down.
He touched my shirt, tugging me behind him. “Come on.”
I resisted. “Drake, what are you doing here?”
“I just want to talk. That’s all. I’m not here to hurt you. I’m not here to threaten, to play games. It’s over, Bren. All of it is over.”
A spark shone bright from his eyes. Finally. He was here, the Drake I used to know. He’d been masked this whole time, but he was staring back at me, albeit bleakly, but he was there.
“Okay.” I heard myself agreeing. “Where?”
Torment flashed for a second. “I want you to take me to your spot. You never let me go with you, and I know you’ve taken Cross. One night. One last night.”
I still wavered. That was my spot. “Why?”
“Because I’m going to tell you everything, so you gotta give me something. You kept it from me all the time we were together. One last time, show me… Please.”
The please did me in. My throat was raw. “Fine.” I moved around him. “But I’m driving.”
I caught motion behind me. He raised his arms in the air, his head falling back. “Fine. Yes. You drive. Such a hard bargain.”
I rolled my eyes. “Guess whatever was going on really is done. You’re back to pissing me off.”
He grunted, following me out the door. “You don’t say. You’ve always pissed me off.” I caught his grin, unable to stop myself from joining him.
After we got to the woods and parked, I snuck looks at him as we walked. He was coming along quietly. Not a peep from him since we left the house, and as he fell in step behind me, his hands in his pockets, his head down, he looked amenable.
Was it that? Or was my first thought right? Defeated.
“This is it? Where you always used to disappear to?” He stepped around me, coming into my clearing. There was a bottle of whiskey hidden underneath some brush, along with a carefully wrapped blanket, but I wasn’t pulling that out. That was for Cross.
I sat down, pulling my knees up to my chest, and I waited for him to sit beside me. He did, leaving a respectable distance between us. He mirrored my position for a moment, then let his legs stretch out. He leaned back, resting on his hands behind him.
That’s when he saw. “Hollllleeee….” His mouth parted. “This is where you’d go? To watch your old house?”
I lifted a shoulder. No way was I sharing why.
He cursed under his breath, looping his hands around his knee. “I was so fucking jealous of Shaw. He knew where you went, and he never told me. That fucker.” He grunted, wincing. “I knew you two would get together the second I was out of the picture. Always too close. Wasn’t natural unless one of you is gay or you’re siblings. And you’re neither.”
“You told Race to try to date me.”
I scowled. He laughed.
“I did. Alex reported the fallout. That was awesome. It was worth it, too.” He watched me, his head tipped back. “Any way I can mess with Shaw, I’m taking it. Still. To this day. Little fuck. I never had a chance with you, not really.”
Maybe. Probably. “We were good, until you left.”
“No, we weren’t,” he said. “You just hadn’t woken up yet about Shaw. I knew you would. Me leaving wasn’t about you, but it was perfect timing. You and Cross, you guys were inevitable. I knew it. Everyone knew it. Even your crewmates. They knew it too.” He paused a beat. “And speaking of, how’d they take it? I know you guys had that ‘no dating’ rule in your crew. I’m sure they must’ve been pissed.”
I thought back to when Jordan had found us. Being mad was the last thing on his mind.
“Jordan found out the same day we took your brother to the hospital to get his stomach pumped.”
Drake’s smirk vanished. “Oh.”
Now I watched him. “Do you care?”
His nostrils flared. “Do I care that you guys saved my little brother’s life? Goddamn. What kind of monster do you actually think I am?”
Fine. Let’s get into this.
I moved to face him and squared my shoulders. “One that sends his cousin to mess with my relationship. One that came back to set me up. One that’s involved with a whole mastermind plotline that I can’t quite get my head wrapped around.” I paused and leaned forward, dropping my voice to a hiss. “Am I missing anything?”
He was riveted, growing absolutely still. “No. Keep going. What else do you know?”
“Did you tell the cops about District Weekend?”
“Yes.”
I startled. I hadn’t expected honesty so quickly. But I read his face again, and he’d spoken the t
ruth. He really was going to tell me.
“Everything?” I asked.
His eyes darkened, right along with my thoughts. “Everything. Next question.”
“Were the cops coming to arrest me?”
“Yes.” A beat. “But not just you. I know what Alex thought, and he wasn’t altogether right. There was an alliance between Neeon, his cop wife, and Broghers. They just want the crews out of Roussou. That’s all. The TV thing wasn’t going to interview students, but suddenly they figured a way to get all those waivers signed. And no, the TV people didn’t know that part. No one could tell them, and they never questioned it. Of course people want to be interviewed—that’s how they think.”
“So the TV thing wasn’t a plan to distract my crew?”
“No, it was, just not one set in motion by dear old Kenneth Broghers. My boss wanted you to get arrested so you’d be shipped off to juvie. When that didn’t happen, it was strongly suggested to Principal Broghers that you be assigned as their assistant. You and your crew being distracted was plan B for my employer. The guy they have on the FC police force is the one who suggested the idea to Broghers’ sister. He just cemented it when you weren’t arrested that night.” He turned to watch my house. “He was just doing his job.”
His job.
“Did you burn the Frisco school down?”
“Yes.”
I blinked. What? I hadn’t expected that. Again.
And before I could continue my questions, he said, “And yeah, I got two punks from FC Public, gave them Alex’s name, and told them to burn your school down. Said I had a cool grand for each if they did.”
“You set your brother up?”
“You say set him up; I say more like removing him from the equation so my employer couldn’t use him against me.”
My mouth dropped. “You were trying to protect Alex?”
He didn’t respond.
“He could’ve been beat up at school.”
“I told my crew hands-off, and I knew you and your boy toy wouldn’t feel right about it. I thought you guys would question him, just didn’t realize it’d be the next morning. Jesus. You two just fuck and roll out of bed? You do the whole sleeping part after the job was done?”