Wings & Roots (The Scions Book 3)

by Gemma Weir

  “Did you hurt yourself when you fell?”

  “No, I’m just a little shaken, that’s all. Thank you for stopping to check on me.”

  “I didn’t stop to check on you. I stopped to yell at you for almost getting yourself killed,” he snaps, his voice becoming angry again. “You need a warning sign hanging around your neck or something. Where the fuck is your merry band of protectors? They were quick enough to step up at the party, but they’re not here when you almost get yourself killed.”

  “Protectors?” I ask dazedly.

  “Yeah, the three big dudes you and the other chick were with at the party.”

  “They’re my friends. I don’t need protectors.”

  Van’s laugh is low and dry. “Sure as shit acted like your bodyguards… or your boyfriends.”

  I wrinkle my brow, starting to get annoyed with his tone. “They’re not my boyfriends either; they’re my friends and they’re protective that’s all.”

  He smiles and my stomach flips. “Sure thing, Little Red, whatever you say,” he drawls, amusement lacing each word.

  The sound makes me bite my lower lip to stop from sighing in response. What the hell is going on with me lately? Between Kent, Griffin, and this guy, it’s like I’m in heat. In the past nineteen years, guys have barely made it onto my radar and now all of a sudden, my body has decided to sit up and take notice.

  “Get in the car. I’ll give you a ride to school,” he orders, squeezing me a little tighter before releasing me completely and taking a step back.

  My brow furrows and I shiver a little now I’m no longer engulfed in the warmth of his body. “I’m not going to get in your car.”

  “Don’t argue. I could have killed you and you’re still trembling. Get in the car.”

  I shake my head again. “I’ll be fine.”

  Van growls, then drags his hand through his dirty-blond hair. “You’re impossible; just get in the car.”

  “No,” I snap. “I don’t know you; you could be a stalker or a serial killer or something.”

  “Red, if I was a serial killer don’t you think instead of rescuing your ass I’d have just let you walk out in front of the car?” he says with an exasperated laugh.

  “Look, I appreciate your concern, but I’m fine. I’m sorry I stepped out in front of you. I’ll be more careful from now on.”

  I hear him grumbling beneath his breath as I turn and start to walk away, glancing over my shoulder as he loudly stomps around to the driver’s door of his car. For the first time I actually look at his car and my step falters. It’s an original Chevrolet Camaro Z28. It’s beautiful, absolutely perfect and I want to stroke it or lick it.

  My dad might be a biker, but my mom loves vintage and she loves cars. When her business was first successful, she restored a Mercury Comet and even as a kid I fell in love with it. That started my love of cars and this car in front of me is like porn.

  The red paint is polished to perfection, shining gloriously in the morning sun. I can’t help taking a step toward it and peering in through the window at the black leather seats, the simplicity of the dash and the smooth wooden steering wheel.

  As I gawk at the car it takes me a moment to realize that instead of getting in, he appears to be locking it. The keys jangle loudly as he circles the hood and walks intently toward me, reaching down to grab my hand as he unceremoniously pulls me forward.

  “What?” I say as he checks for traffic, then tows me into the street and across to the other sidewalk. “What are you doing?” I ask, shocked, but not pulling at his hand to get free. Heat is radiating up my arm from where his fingers are wrapped around mine and it’s… nice. No, it’s more than nice.

  “I’m walking you to school, Little Red, seeing as you don’t have any of your harem of bodyguards with you. It looks like the only way to keep you out of trouble is to take care of you myself,” he replies flippantly, both amusement and annoyance lacing his voice.

  “Why do you keep calling me Little Red? This is hardly a fairytale.”

  “Because it suits you better than Emmy,” he drawls, his accent thick, syrupy, and delicious.

  “You remember my name?” I ask, a little shocked considering the party was weeks ago and we only danced for one song.

  Sighing, he tilts his head to the side and stares at me. “You’re not easily forgotten.”

  My mouth falls open and I gawp at him. What the hell is happening here? “Err, I’m fine. I can get to school on my own. I mean, don’t you need your car?” I mumble.

  His smile is indulgent and a little smug. “I can fetch my car later.”

  “Why are you driving anyway? The frat house is only just off campus?”

  “I don’t live at the frat,” he says, his hand tightening around mine a little as he guides me along the street.

  “Oh,” I say, not really knowing what else to do.

  He slows his pace until it matches mine and he’s walking next to me instead of pulling me along. I know I should make him let go of my hand, but walking beside him, his huge hand holding mine and his massive body sheltering me, fills me with a feeling that’s both achingly familiar and excitingly new.

  We fall silent and I glance up at him, noticing how confident everything about him is. He’s not unsure of who he is; he’s not a kid who’s just figuring himself out. Van seems older, but he can’t be that much older than me if he’s still a student.

  “How old are you?” I blurt.

  He stops walking and I realize that we’re already at the campus, just outside the main faculty building. He doesn’t release his hold on my hand, but he turns to look at me, his stubbled face and amused grin doing nothing to distract from how ruggedly beautiful he is.

  “I’m twenty-one. You’re what, eighteen, nineteen?”

  “Nineteen,” I answer.

  He nods, lifting his free hand up to stroke my cheek with a single finger. “So young,” he whispers.

  Then he leans forward and for a moment I think this virtual stranger is going to kiss me. Instead he pulls my cell from the pocket of my jeans and I watch shocked as his fingers move quickly over the screen and a second later music starts to play from his pocket.

  “Did you just call yourself from my cell?” I ask incredulous.

  “I wanted your number,” he answers succinctly, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

  Snatching my cell from his hands, I hold it protectively to my chest. “That’s such a dick move,” I say scowling at him.

  He shrugs, cocking an eyebrow at me without an ounce of remorse. “I’ll see you around, Red,” he says in his lazy Alabama accent, then turns and stalks back through the entrance gates and out of sight.

  What the hell was that? For a second I really thought he was going to kiss me, and I was going to let him. What’s happening to me? Back home if a guy, regardless of how hot he was, had leaned in to kiss me, I’d have kneed him in the balls.

  How can I go from the girl who hasn’t been kissed, hasn’t been interested in any guy ever, to the girl who went on her first date, kissed her best friend, and somehow caught the attention of another guy all in the space of a couple of days?

  I stare at his retreating back, my confusion warring with the desire to chase after him and ask him if this is all a joke. First Kent, then Griff, and now Van. This isn’t my life. I’m not the kind of girl who has two guys interested, and I’m definitely not the girl whose best friend suddenly starts kissing her.

  Someone clips my backpack that’s loosely hanging from my shoulder as they walk past, and I realize I’ve been standing in the middle of the path having a crisis while the rest of the world walks around me. I glance one last time in the direction Van walked in, then turn and force myself to move on slightly unsteady legs to my class.

  My economics class is just as dreadful as the others have been. If it wasn’t a Hayhurst requirement to graduate, I wouldn’t be taking it. I try to concentrate on Professor Clarey, but my mind refuses to cooperate and inst
ead I find myself thinking about Griffin.

  The more our kiss plays on a loop through my head, the more I convince myself that it was just him playing a mind game with me, reminding me of home and of the lifestyle we grew up in. If it had been him kissing me, just because he wanted to, he wouldn’t have said all those things about the Sinners or about how they want their women to feel; he would have spoken about him, and how he wanted to leave me feeling.

  Him kissing me to remind me of how ‘real men’ behave makes so much more sense than him suddenly having feelings for me, because even though he tries to, I know he doesn’t really understand my need for new people and experiences. Griff wanting me as more than a friend is absurd and it makes no sense. He’s never been short of female attention and I know he’s just waiting for the right woman to come along and capture his heart. He needs a strong, beautiful girl who will become the center of his universe because he has so much love to give. When he does give away his whole heart, it’ll be forever and whoever she is will be the luckiest girl on the planet.

  A pain ricochets through my chest and I lift my hand and cover my heart, pressing down on the raw void that feels like it just appeared. I love my friends, I truly do, but when they grow up and meet people, I’ll lose them. It’s different with girl friends, but with the guys, the women they fall for won’t understand our relationship, or who the Scions are and I’ll be pushed aside. Maybe if I’d been the one to drift away the pain would be less, but the idea that my time with them is counting down hurts so much more than I ever would have thought. But this is life, people grow up and the frivolities of childhood and childish notions like friendship above everything else fade.

  I’m jolted from my internal musings by class ending and the screech of fifty chairs all moving at once. Reaching forward I hit save on my meager notes, then shut the lid of my laptop and lift it off the desk, sliding it into my backpack. Hoisting my bag onto my shoulders I slowly follow the mass of students out of the classroom and toward fresh air and freedom. My next class isn’t for an hour, so I pause for a moment, debating if I should head to the library like a good little student, or go find somewhere I can sit and read until my next class starts.

  “Emmy.”

  Spinning at the sound of the voice, I find a stern-faced Zeke striding toward me. I wave and his expression softens a little. “Hey,” I say when he reaches me.

  “Hey, you got time for a coffee? I’m jonesing for some caffeine.”

  Laughing at his pained expression I nod. “Why didn’t you just bring a coffee with you? I made a pot before I left this morning.”

  “I did make one, but I left it on the counter and didn’t remember ‘til I was already on campus,” he whines grumpily.

  My shoulders shake as I chuckle silently.

  “Don’t laugh,” he chides. “I’m still getting used to remembering my own shit.”

  “Come on, I have time for coffee,” I say.

  Zeke curls his arm around my neck and turns us in the direction of Brew Me Up Buttercup, the small kitschy coffee shop that’s hidden in the corner of campus. Unlike the cafeteria that sells burned, chewy coffee, Brew Me Up sells delicious richly roasted caffeine goodness and sugary treats. The place is full of bleary-eyed students when we push through the door and Zeke shoos me over to a table and heads to the counter to order our drinks. He returns a couple of minutes later with a tray laden with a frothy latte for me, a dark roast Americano for him and two Biscotti muffins.

  “I hate early morning classes,” he says, yawning.

  “My class started an hour ago,” I remind him.

  “I know. Thank God none of mine are that time. There’s no way I’d make it if I had to be here for eight. I had to set ten alarms to get here now.”

  I roll my eyes at him, then we lapse into silence as Zeke drinks his coffee and I pick at my muffin.

  “So what’s going on with this Kent guy?” Zeke asks, his expression suddenly serious.

  “Nothing yet. Last night was our first date,” I say with a shrug.

  “I don’t like it, Em. I don’t want you going out with anyone who isn’t going to treat you right,” Zeke growls.

  “You don’t even know him. He could be the perfect guy for me,” I argue.

  “Exactly. I don’t know him. I never even knew he existed until he turned up on our doorstep yesterday. What the fuck is up with that?”

  “I don’t have to tell you about every guy I meet. You sure as hell don’t tell me about every girl you fuck,” I snap, sitting up straighter in my seat and crossing my arms pointedly across my chest.

  “Do you want to know about every girl I fuck? ‘Cause I got no problem telling you.”

  “No,” I cry. “Of course I don’t want to know. I’m making a point.”

  “And what point’s that exactly?” Zeke asks, raising an eyebrow at me imperiously. “If I met a girl who meant anything to me, I’d talk about her. I’d tell you guys, because you’re my family, my best friends, and I’d want you to know.”

  “It was a first date, Zeke. If things had gotten serious I’d have told you all, but I only met him last week,” I cry in exasperation.

  “See that’s the thing though, Em. You don’t date. Have you even been on a date before?”

  Avoiding his gaze, I focus on my muffin, pulling a piece off and shoving it into my mouth.

  “You’re not like me. For you to agree to go out on a date with that guy, you must already think he’s important. So, I’ll ask again, why didn’t you tell us about him?” Zeke growls, his eyes boring into me and demanding answers.

  “I don’t know,” I cry, throwing my hands into the air dramatically. “I don’t know, okay? He asked me out and he’s cute and different and I just—”

  “Do you wish you’d gone to school on your own? The Ivy League one you had your heart set on.” Zeke asks, his eyes watching me warily.

  “No,” I say immediately. “No, I’m glad we’re all here together. It’s just that you guys are all so certain of how your future looks. You and Griffin want to be Sinners. You plan to get your degrees, then go home and start your life. Nova wants Valentine and he wants her; they’re going to be blissfully happy no matter what they end up doing, and then there’s me.”

  “What about you?” He asks.

  “I think about my future and it’s just this big, black empty space.”

  “That’s okay, we’re only nineteen. It’s normal to not know what you want to do with the rest of your life,” he says, leaning across the table toward me.

  “I know that, but I feel like what I do now, who I date, what classes I take, they’re all forging a path that if I’m not careful will just lead me right back to Archer’s Creek.”

  “What’s wrong with Archer’s Creek?” he asks quietly.

  “Everything and nothing,” I answer. “But I want something else, something more than just being the kid of the Sinners Prez. Kent is different, and he doesn’t look at me like I’m anything more than just me. It’s nice, to just be me for a change, to have something that’s just mine.”

  I expect Zeke to argue, but he doesn’t. Instead he inhales, then exhales slowly and nods. “I get that. He’s not like us and that’s what you want.”

  The sadness in his expression almost has me denying it, but what’s the point? It’s the truth.

  “Why are you here, Em?” He asks, his tone serious.

  “What do you mean? You came to find me after my class and asked me to come get coffee,” I say, confused.

  “I mean here, at Hayhurst. You had your something different all ready for you. You had your get-out clause, a brand-new life just waiting for you. So why are you here?”

  My lips part and I stare at him. He’s not joking around; his eyes are narrowed slightly at the corners and his lips are pressed together in a tight line. He looks daunting and intense and I inhale sharply, shocked at how serious he’s being.

  “Because.”

  “Don’t give me the bullshit stock answe
r. I want the real reason.” He demands.

  A lump forms and I clear my throat. “I…” I pause, swallowing again. “I wasn’t ready to be alone.”

  I expect his face to soften, but it stays the same. “Why else?”

  “I didn’t want to leave Nova.”

  This time, there’s a glimmer of something in his eyes. “Why else?”

  “Does it matter?” I snap.

  “Yeah it does. The summer before Valentine showed up, we barely saw you. You were distancing yourself from us, withdrawing more and more. You were getting ready to leave and we all saw it. Then Nova lost her shit and suddenly you were back, you were one of us again, you were present, but we all still expected you to leave. I need to know if the only reason you’re here is because you feel some kind of fucked up sense of obligation to Nova.”

  I start shaking my head even before he finishes speaking. “No. No, I love Nova and yeah maybe her illness is what made me change my mind, but it’s not the only reason.”

  “Explain it to me then, Em. Because right now, you’re here, but you’re not. You’re in, but not all the way. You’re you, but you’re trying to be someone else. Tell me what the hell is going on,” he begs, his voice softening.

  “I don’t know,” I admit, my eyes dropping to my fingers that are wrapped around my mug. “The plan was always to use college to get as far away as possible from home and the club and this fucked up world that somehow made us royalty when all I’ve ever wanted to be was normal.”

  Lifting my eyes, I implore him to understand, to really hear me. “You and Griffin, you like the way people revere The Scions,” I say making quotation marks in the air with my fingers. “But I never wanted the attention. I don’t want to be someone that people have expectations of. I just want to be normal. I thought getting into a good school, where no one thinks about bikers, where I could reinvent myself, I’d be happier.”

  “So if that was the plan, the dream. What changed?”

  “Nova,” I say simply. “I had no idea she was falling apart. I knew she played the role of the mean girl because she thought that’s what people expected of her, but I had absolutely no idea that she was literally battling with her own head every single day. She’s my best friend, we’ve known each other our whole lives, and I was completely oblivious. That day in the gym when I saw that video of you and her, I realized that I’d been so fucking selfish. I’d been so busy trying to forget who I was, to plan my escape, that I actually did forget who I am. I forgot who my friends are, who in my life is important.”