THE BOY I GREW UP WITH

by T I J A N

  No. I was talking about the dark kind of wanting to die, where it’s in the back of your mind, where it’s a little door you want to open and disappear through…

  Some days it was hard to suppress and harder to ignore, so right now I wasn’t doing either of those.

  “You’re not going to touch my sister again,” Jordan growled before delivering probably his fourth punch. “Got it, asshole?”

  It was my face getting bloodied. Not that guy’s.

  Jordan straightened to sneer at the guy lying at his feet.

  Jordan Pitts.

  He was the self-proclaimed leader of our crew. Note here: self-proclaimed. As in, he announced it one day. No one objected and off he went, embracing his cocky swagger and thinking he spoke for our group of four. The truth is he does, I guess, but only when we don’t have a problem with what he’s saying.

  Our group isn’t a dick-tatorship, whether he believes that or not.

  Jordan bent down—with his long, six-foot-two self—grabbed a hold of the guy’s shirt, and lifted him in the air. He shook him, growling again in his face, but the guy couldn’t answer. His face was broken. Literally. Either Cross or Jordan had punched his cheek so hard it looked busted. His whole face was a mess of blood and bruises. I would’ve felt sorry except for two things: he’d tried to rape Jordan’s sister, and when Jordan had asked him to report himself, he’d added a curse word and his middle finger, and spat on Jordan’s shoes.

  Apparently this guy didn’t know the reputation of our crew, or Jordan himself.

  Which made sense because Mallory Pitts just started attending a new private school at a neighboring town and that’s where this guy met her. If he had known, he would’ve run the other way. You had to give the guy some props, though. Instead of lying, he was honest. He told Jordan exactly what he thought of that suggestion. And anyway, if he’d lied, we would’ve followed up, and when he didn’t report himself, this whole beatdown would’ve happened anyway.

  That was my crew.

  Along with Jordan, there were two others besides myself—Cross Shaw and Zellman Greenly. My name is Bren Monroe, and even though I’m in the middle of this whole dark diatribe, and even though we look like the bad guys right now, things aren’t always as they seem.

  Jordan slammed the guy back down to the ground, then bent over him to issue more threats.

  Cross stepped back, and I felt his gaze on me even before I looked up. Yes, there it was. The tawny hazel eyes that so many girls loved. We were family—and not that kind of family. But I’d have to be blind not to understand why so many girls at Roussou High salivated over him.

  Six-one. Lean, but built. Cross had a strong, square jaw—one that would clench at times—and a face that was almost prettier than mine. He would’ve been gorgeous even if he was a girl, a fact I loved to tease him about. But teasing aside, Cross got the girls. He could just show up somewhere, and ten would appear around him. He could nod at a girl, and she’d go to his side for the night, usually be down for anything he wanted.

  Cross was the quiet, nice guy…except he wasn’t really either of those at all. I mean, he was, but he wasn’t. He was generally quiet, but he talked to me. And he was nice, but he could be lethal. Piss him off, and you’d never see him coming. He wasn’t like Jordan with the growling and throwing people around. He’d come right up to you, and then you’d be waking up in the hospital a couple days later.

  And while I loved Jordan and Zellman, they weren’t Cross.

  They weren’t my best friend, the guy whose closet I crawled into so many nights when I needed a sanctuary from my own hell called home.

  I met his eyes as he came toward me. His golden hair and tanned skin made him every pretty boy’s nightmare. When would he wake up and realize he had more potential than all of us? He could go to New York and be a model, or go to Hollywood and be an actor. Why he stayed in Roussou was beyond me.

  He wasn’t messed up like the rest of us. He wasn’t messed up like me.

  “You got the look,” he said, coming to stand next to me.

  Yeah. I knew what he was referencing, but I didn’t take the bait.

  “Okay, fuckhead,” Jordan announced. “We’re going to leave you now, and if you think you’d like to turn any of us in, don’t forget what we have on you. Got it? Nod your head, dickwad.”

  Jordan was the intellectual here. He was smart.

  The guy made a gurgling sound and managed to move his head a bit.

  It sufficed for Jordan, and he nodded. “Good.” He turned, his long legs crossing the ground toward us.

  I leaned against the bed of his truck, Cross still next to me, as Jordan opened the driver’s side door.

  Zellman had been standing nearby at the ready. That’s what he tended to do—always lurking behind Jordan and waiting. Since Jordan had come over to us now, so had Zellman. He launched himself up to the opened truck bed behind us.

  I heard the cooler open, and he tossed a beer Jordan’s way.

  “Bren? Cross?” he called.

  Cross shook his head.

  I turned around to look at the guys. “I’m good. Thanks.”

  “You sure?” Zellman extended a beer.

  “I am.”

  Jordan’s eyes flicked upward—his response to a lot of the things I did. We had each other’s backs, but to Jordan that meant doing everything he wanted. Sometimes we disagreed, and every time I didn’t do what he did, he took that as disagreeing with him.

  Family doesn’t work that way.

  I watched him, just for a moment.

  One day we would battle.

  One day it would be me against him.

  One day his disapproval would make me snap, or one day he wouldn’t just be a jerk because I wasn’t doing what he wanted. He would go too far, and that would be the day I’d meet him halfway.

  I already knew how the lines would shift in our group when that happened. Cross would back me up. Zellman would probably back Jordan. It’d be two against two. Even though I was the only girl in the group—one of only two girls in the entire system—I could handle my own, and I knew I would enjoy lighting into Jordan on that day. But that day wasn’t today, and I hoped it would take a long time to come. I did care for Jordan like a brother, though he wasn’t my actual blood.

  “So.” Jordan slammed the door shut again, the force rocking his truck for a second. He propped up a leg. “What’s the plan for tonight?”

  This was the last night before our senior year started.

  Sunday night. People had been to church this morning, and we’d beaten someone bloody this evening. There was irony in there somewhere. I was just too tired to find it.

  “Ryerson has a party tonight,” Zellman offered. “I say we go.” His shaggy curls bounced around as his blue eyes darted between us.

  “Yeah?” Jordan’s eyes lit up.

  Zellman nodded. “I’m down to go. I think Sunday Barnes got new boobs this summer.” He grinned. “I’m hoping to check ’em out personally.”

  Jordan laughed. “I’m good with that.” He tipped his head back, finishing his beer, and then tossed the bottle into the trees behind us. “Bren, Cross, what about you guys?”

  Cross would wait for me, so I said, “I’m good for the night.”

  “No party?”

  “I’m gonna head home.”

  Jordan’s disapproval settled in the air over us, but no one said a word.

  “Think I’m down with you guys for the party,” Cross added after a moment.

  Zellman thrust a fist in the air. “Hell yeah. Take it.” He offered his half-emptied beer.

  Cross laughed, but shook his head. “I’ll wait for the good liquor there. Ryerson always has something.”

  “Yeah! That’s what it’s about.” Zellman finished his beer and reached into the cooler for a second. “Jordan?”

  “I gotta drive.” He glanced to me. “Ride home?”

  I looked over to where the guy still lay on the ground. He hadn’t mo
ved.

  I shook my head. “Think I’ll walk. I can cut through the trees.”

  “You sure?”

  Cross moved around us, clapping Jordan on the shoulder. “Let’s go. Bren can take care of herself.” He glanced back to me, circling around the front of the truck to get into the passenger side. He knew I wanted to be on my own tonight. He knew it because he could feel it. Just like I could almost hear his thoughts now.

  She always has.

  I finished in my own head, Always will.

  Cross’ statement seemed to settle the other guys, and Jordan started the truck. He circled around me, kicking up a cloud of dust, and zoomed back down the way we’d come. He saluted me with a finger as he passed by. Zellman had settled into the bed, sitting by the cooler, and he held up his beer as his goodbye.

  I shook my head, the smallest hint of a smile tugging at my mouth, but that was all the reaction they got.

  Once they were gone, it was just me, the bloodied guy, and the same dark quiet I’d felt earlier.

  It came out of nowhere at times, swallowing me whole. Some days it would vanish just as quickly. Other times, like tonight, it lingered.

  It used to scare me. I now missed it when it wasn’t here, but I always knew it would move on. It was like a firefly slipping away into the night. When that happened, I was left with the feeling that I’d let something slip through my fingers.

  This night, that firefly remained.

  It warmed me.

  * * *

  Click here for more Crew.

  Logan Kade

  Chapter one

  “Logan Motherfucking Kade.”

  I heard the slow and sensual drawl behind me and smirked. I’d always know that voice, no matter what frame of mind she was in. Tate Sullivan had screamed underneath me, at me, and behind my back. Anyway there was, I’d had her. Lover. Enemy. Friend. Fuck buddy. We were all of those, and she dropped a bomb on her way out the last time she was in my life. Turning around, she was walking towards me with a sexy stroll, midriff showing under a white halter top and swinging those hips encased in tight-as-skin jeans. I narrowed my eyes and leaned back against my Escalade, sliding my hands inside my front pockets. “Tate Mother Slutting Sullivan.” There was no warmth in my voice. “What do you want?”

  She stopped and lifted an eyebrow. “You’re mad.”

  I grunted. That wasn’t a question, and she knew better than to give me an opening. I’d fillet her alive, but instead, all I said was, “You fucked with my relationships the last time I saw you.”

  “Uh. Yeah.” Her frosted pink lips pressed together, and her eyes glanced away for a second. “About that, you know that wasn’t to get at you, right? That was to fuck things up with your brother. He’s the asshole I wanted to hurt.”

  “Not making it better, Tate.”

  “Well.” She gestured behind me to the lit up mansion. Hip-hop music blared, even sounding loud where we were, a few yards away in the parking area. “I saw Mason and Samantha inside. They seem happy and still sickeningly in love, so all’s still good in the Kade/Strattan trio.”

  “You told Sam that I was in love with her.”

  “To my credit, I thought you were.”

  “Bullshit.” I pushed off from the Escalade and started toward her. Her eyes widened, and she backed up. I kept advancing. I wasn’t going to hurt her. With all the history between us, physical violence had never been present. Manipulation. Backstabbing deceit. Her just being a slut as she propositioned my brother when we were dating—yeah, that had all been there, but when Tate came back in our lives, she and I became friends. Well, we were fuck buddies, but those were the best types of friends in my opinion.

  “You’re scared of me now, Tate? Not when you told my brother’s girlfriend that I was in love with her. You didn’t just hurt Mason. You screwed with all of us. I love Sam. Always have, but only as a friend and a future sister. How’d you feel if I did something like that? If I fucked with your family, the people who you hold most dear?”

  She stopped, her back against a truck, and I stepped closer. Looking down, holding her gaze, I let her see the anger there. She didn’t look away. There was shame in her blue eyes, but resolve, too. Her chin trembled and then hardened, and she lifted her chin higher, standing higher as we stood toe to toe. “You did fuck with my life.”

  “You mean when we dated for two years, I was in love with you, and you went to my brother’s room to have sex with him? You mean after that, when he called me while you were propositioning him and my dad was nice enough to get you a driver to take you home?”

  She bit down on her lip, her eyebrows pinching forward together. “I was naked, and you were both going to cast me out like that.”

  I shrugged. “Who was the one who took your clothes off?”

  Her. The truth was silent from Tate, until she said, softly, “I thought we were okay, Logan. That’s why I came out here.” She leaned forward, grazing her breasts against my chest. “We were friends when I left.”

  We were more than friends, and I reached up, cupping the back of her neck. She shivered, closing her eyes as I said, “When are you going to learn, Tate?”

  Her eyes opened. She waited.

  “When you fuck with one of mine, you fuck with me.” I leaned forward, my forehead resting against hers. “And you fucked with my family.”

  She knew this wasn’t going anywhere. She pulled her head back, out of my hold, and leaned against the truck again. Her shoulders lowered a centimeter. “I didn’t think you’d get hurt by what I said. I really didn’t mean that. I just wanted to hurt Mason. He’s the asshole.”

  “No, Tate. We’re both assholes. You just like how I feel inside of you.”

  “God.” She shoved me back. Her eyes flared. “You can piss me off.”

  My lips curved up. I was being the asshole she liked to screw, and we both knew it. I saw the old lust coming back over her. Her skin was warming. Her lips parted. Her nipples hardened under her shirt. But I meant what I said. “What are you doing here, Tate?”

  Her bottom lip stuck out. “You’re going back to Cain U tomorrow.” She rolled her eyes, shaking her head. “I thought one last night, but I can see that’s not going to happen.” She gestured around the parking area. “I thought you were waiting for me. That’s what we used to do. The party’s inside, and you’re out here.”

  “Who said I was waiting for you?”

  She opened her mouth, then stopped. No sound came out. “God, you’re a prick.”

  I rolled my shoulders back. “You’re lucky this is all you’re getting. Did Mason see you inside?”

  “No. I saw ’em in the back with Nate, then saw you heading out here. I thought maybe you saw me, too, and here I came.”

  My mouth twitched. I could do so much with that last statement, but I held back. She’d take it as flirting. “I came out here for a chick, but it wasn’t you. Sorry.”

  “Same old Logan.” Her eyes slid down me and back up, a soft sigh leaving her. “Screwing girls, partying, and,” her eyes fell back to my hand and lingered there. She touched my red knuckles. “still fighting.”

  I pulled my hand away. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

  She sighed, touching the corner of my mouth before letting her hand fall back to her side. “I’m sorry for hurting you. I know I did.”

  She was sincere and I frowned at that. “That was a long time ago. I got you back. We made your life hell in school afterwards.”

  She groaned, grinning up at me. “You did. Holy shit, you and Mason both did, but I still want to apologize for what I did. I did you wrong, and I’m sorry for that.”

  “Apology accepted.” I waited. Tate didn’t do anything without reason. She probably did come out here to proposition me for one more night, and if this had been two years ago, I would’ve taken her up on that, but she hurt my family. There was no going back from that. “What’s going on with you, Tate? Why’d you really come out here?”

  “I
really did come out to get in your pants, but I know that’s not going to happen.” She lifted up her slim shoulders. “I came to this party to find you and to apologize again. I heard through the grapevine that what I said to Sam had hurt you too. I’m off to my college tomorrow, too, so who knows the next time I’ll get the opportunity to do this in person again.”

  I nodded, my suspicions still clouded in my mind. “Okay. Thank you for apologizing again.”

  “Logan!”

  Tate glanced over her shoulder, seeing the real reason I’d come out to this parking lot, and she rolled her eyes before meeting mine. The girl didn’t matter. She had a good rack, and I loved how she gave blow jobs, but who she was wasn’t important. Both Tate and I knew that even if the girl thought she was, I never lied to them. I never made promises where they’d be my girlfriends. On the rare occasion, I’d have to hurt their feelings, but more often than not, they accepted what I offered. A good time. That was all, and with this girl, I’d forget her name in the morning, or even in an hour depending how good she was. For once, a shadow of doubt crossed my mind. I had loved Tate, or I thought I had. She was my first serious girlfriend and I only had one other since her. I loved sex. I loved to party. And yes, I loved to fight, too, but I never considered changing...until I saw the disappointment in my first ex.

  Then I shrugged that off. That was crazy.

  “Okay. Well, see you, Logan.”

  I nodded. “See you, Tate.”

  She turned, one hand hooked in her jean pocket as the other girl slowed, passing her by. Tate ignored the girl and said, “Give me a call if you ever change your ways.”

  My side-grin turned cocky. “Tate, if that ever happens, you’d be the last girl I’d fall for.”

  She laughed. “And there’s the asshole again. Thanks. I almost forgot for a second there.”

  “No problem. I’m here if you need an asshole.”

  She shook her head and sauntered away, holding two fingers up over her shoulder. “Deuces, Kade. I never thought I’d be saying this, but I really do hope your next year is a great one.” She paused, glancing back, and her voice came out softly, “I hope you fall in love. You can feel what the rest of us feel.”