#MNGirl (Midwest Boys Series Book 1)

by A. M. Brooks

  “Thanks,” I mutter, slipping the bag up my arm, before I head toward the door. At least, if the rest of my shopping day is a bust, I was able to get the one thing that matters most. I glance back over my shoulder and find Reed still watching me. Something like fascination or fear crosses his face, before he tears his gaze from mine. Suspicion and unease settle in my gut. Something about that kid is familiar. I swear I’ve seen his face. Remembering him feels like a nightmare or a ghost story told by adults to little kids to keep them on the straight and narrow.

  Frowning, I make my way down the block, hitting each store that calls to me as I walk by. Along the way, I start to notice a pattern. The checkout clerk does a double take, shakes their head, then rings me up. When I hand over Matt’s card, three out of the five times, I get the stare at you under the eyelashes’ look. It’s bizarre, and I’m going crazy, because by the afternoon, I’ve started doing it, too. I finally cave and call Matt to see if there is a larger store in the area. He tells me to try Wal-Mart, which is in the next town over. Following his directions, I make it in under half an hour. I breathe a sigh of relief at the much larger selection and patterns than the antique store had back in Savage Lakes. I finally have a new bed spread and sheets, alarm clock, backpack, and I also pick up a hat and glove set. Slowly, I make my way through the clothing section. Nothing is jumping out at me, though. I add two pairs of jeans to my cart and another hoodie.

  “You look lost, Hun,” a voice calls to me from a rack over. My head zips back and forth, trying to locate the source. A tiny woman moves forward from behind the large mound of clothes she is holding. “Can I help you find something?”

  “No, I think I have the basics,” I tell her, shrugging and attempting a neutral smile. When I look back at her, our eyes clash, and her mouth drops in recognition.

  “Oh, my!” She moves closer, examining me from my shoes to the top of my head. “You look exactly like your mom.”

  “Uh, do you know my mom?” The question squeaks out of my lips. After everything that has happened, I was starting to wonder if I even knew her.

  “Oh darling, I used to go to Savage Lakes High with your mom. We were thick as thieves back in the day. We haven’t spoken now in, oh my, probably eighteen years,” the woman continues to explain, her eyes still roving all over my face.

  “Until she moved to New York.” I nod in understanding.

  “You betcha. She moved right after graduation. I hope now with you being here, maybe I’ll get to see her again,” she continues, completely oblivious to my comfort level dropping dramatically.

  “Maybe,” I agree, noncommittally.

  “Well, what are you shopping for? Anything I can help with? Hunting season is almost over, but there is still some camouflage and orange gear in the back if you need it.” She points to the other side of the building. My mouth drops for a split second, before I have to bite my lip to stop from laughing. A mental image of myself dressed in bright orange and camo floats through my mind. If Oaklynn was here, she would probably die laughing with me.

  “Just some essentials for school,” I tell her, pointing to the items in my cart.

  “Clothes for school? Did Matt send you here?” she asks, eyeballing my cart and snorting behind her smile.

  “Yeah,” I nod, looking along with her.

  “Men,” she huffs out, “look, I’m not knocking our products, because we have some cute things, but most kids your age go to the mall for their clothes. It’s just on the other side of town.”

  “There’s a mall?” I ask, again wanting to make sure I heard her right. Stupid Matt.

  “Yup.” She smiles. “It’s not going to have the same stores you’re used to; those are probably closer to the Mall of America, but they will have a better selection for school. It’s hard enough to be the new kid, I can’t believe Matt told you to come here.” She shakes her head, her black bob haircut bouncing with the movement.

  “Men,” I agree with her and shrug my shoulders. “Thanks, though,” I tell her.

  “No problem, sweetie,” she chuckles. “Hope you have a good first day.”

  I smile again and push my cart back between the rows and racks to the checkout counter. Once my bags are in the trunk, I find my way to the mall, and I want to smack my forehead, for not noticing it before. Almost another hour later, I pack more purchases into the trunk and suddenly feel a lot calmer about starting school on Monday. Even if I have to be the new girl again, at least I’ll feel a little more like the new me.

  By some miracle, I manage to find my way back to Savage Lakes. Before hitting the far end of town, I notice a brown sign instructing drivers to turn left to go to the water access. I lift my brow, my curiosity piqued. This must be the other lake that Matt said was for locals. Without thinking, I turn down the dirt road and drive until I reach the parking lot. Jumping out of the car, my feet make their way to the start of the sand, and my breath catches. It’s beautiful. I now understand why the locals keep it to themselves. Stepping onto the sand, I notice it’s solid from the cold weather and frost. I make my way to the edge of the water. Ice has started to form on the edge of the banks, and orange, red and gold trees line the water. A series of cliffs are farther down, on the opposite side from where I stand. My stomach does a little flip, imagining climbing those rocks and jumping into a freefall from the top. I wonder if the water is deep enough over there. A boat lift is nestled off to the left of where I’m standing. Closing my eyes, I picture how summer could look here. My smile thins when I realize I don’t even know if I’ll be here this summer or what will happen to my life.

  Casting one last glance at the water, I head back to the Bronco and lift myself inside. I have no reason to stay; yet, the thought of returning to a home I’m not sure I’m wanted at makes my insides twist. Reaching into the glove compartment, I pull out my new iPod touch and start clicking on the music from the store that Reed had set up before I left. I find Ed Sheeran and click on “Antisocial” before leaning my seat back. Closing my eyes, I concentrate on breathing and let the lyrics and melody dance in my blood.

  I’m so lost in my own private concert, I don’t hear the truck pull into the parking lot a few spaces down from me. I don’t notice their music over mine. When the sudden honk from a horn goes off, I jump, and my body slams against the seat, my nerves automatically on edge. The sunlight dances over my eyes, momentarily blinding me while I fight to keep them open. Squinting, I raise my head over the edge of my window and immediately lock on the grey truck with its tinted passenger window half rolled down. My eyes widen when my brain clicks with what I’m actually seeing. The blonde girl’s head is thrown back, her mouth open, while her breasts jump from the impact of the solid looking body crouched behind her, pumping his hips into her. All I can see of him is tan skin stretched over rippled stomach muscles. One large hand grips the window, and I don’t know where the other hand is. My voice squeaks in my throat, as I slump back down in my seat, shifting to my side, and turn my own music up louder in my ears. My heart hammers in my chest, hoping they didn’t see me, and don’t bother to look to see if anyone is in this vehicle.

  I’m not sure how long I keep my body balled up and eyes slammed close. Close to ten songs have played in my headphones so that should be enough time, right? Hesitating, I slowly turn, so I’m laying upright, and raise my seat back to its normal position. The minute I do, I wish I hadn’t. The truck is still there, with the passenger window rolled up this time, only my brown eyes clash with an angry set of forest green ones. Destroyed blue jeans hang off his lean hips, while he slips a black Henley over his head, not breaking eye contact the whole time. A blush spreads over my cheeks and the need to avert my eyes and cower is strong. Please don’t think I spent the whole time watching. My mind races while this stranger continues to stare me down. My throat goes dry when I notice the muscle in his square jaw jump and his lips thin in disgust. If I thought Ciaran’s scowl is painful, this guy’s artic glare is brutal. I can read the hate in his
eyes when it dawns on me he didn’t care that I could see. He wasn’t hiding. With one last sneer, he turns away and disappears inside the truck. My chest heaves while he backs up and guns it out of the parking lot. Sucking in air, I struggle to bring my racing heart back under control. I’m at a loss as to what that dude’s problem is. If he is going to get it on in public places and doesn’t want people to see, he should probably check to make sure he’s alone or keep his windows closed. Not my problem he’s a dumbass. Shaking my head, I twist the keys in the ignition, and that’s when I see it.

  “No fucking way.” I open my door, stepping out, and walk to the hood. A condom. A dirty, used condom is plastered to the hood of the Bronco. Matt’s Bronco. “Agh!” My head falls back as a yell is forced from my throat. Who does that? Jackasses do, apparently. A gnawing in my gut has me guessing this was no accident. That asshole threw it on my vehicle on purpose. The hate in his eyes went way beyond just being upset someone might have seen him humping his playboy bunny in a parking lot. He knew me. He clearly has a problem with me. Popping the trunk, I grab a plastic bag and slide it over my hand like a glove and peel the tainted condom off the hood, flipping it into the bag. Hustling over to the garbage, I slide it in, before racing back to my vehicle and tearing through my other bag for the hand sanitizer I bought earlier. “Crazy rednecks,” I grumble and curse that giant Neanderthal. Without waiting another second, I back up and screech my own tires to get out of the parking lot.

  Cruising back through town on the main drag, I keep my eyes peeled for the car wash and gas station I saw earlier and pull in. The sun is starting to sink into a cotton candy pink sky, and a chill hangs in the air. I had no idea so much time had passed while I was at the lake. Checking my phone again, I’m surprised to see Matt hasn’t tried to contact me or check in. He clearly is way more laidback than my mom would have been. I decide to fill up the tank while I purchase a car wash. My eyes wander over the shops and the restaurant across the street selling that chicken. Whipping around, I notice that most places look dark and closed up. An almost eerie silence buzzes around me. I didn’t remember if Matt said there was a curfew in town. Another glance at the phone tells me it’s only half past six. Is this a Minnesota thing?

  The pump clicks when it’s done, and I grab my receipt for the car wash code and drive around the building. Twenty minutes later, I pull the Bronco back into the garage and park it. I load my arms up with all my bags, refusing to have to make more than one trip. The sun has officially set, and it’s freezing. My hoodie no longer provides enough warmth against this temperature.

  “Oh, hey.” Matt glances up at me from his spot at the kitchen table when I walk in the door. “You just get back?”

  “Yeah, I got a little distracted,” I tell him, gesturing to my many bags. His eyes widen, but he keeps his mouth closed.

  “Okay. I’m getting ready to head to the garage. I have some work to do. Ciaran already left. There’s some left over frozen pizza in the fridge if you’re hungry. I usually get Mama G’s, but with the game tonight, they closed early,” Matt explains.

  “What game?” I ask, remembering how shut down the town is.

  “Football,” Matt explains. “Big game tonight. Winner goes to sectionals next week.”

  “Everything closes down for a high school football game?” I question, making sure I heard him right the first time.

  “Yup. Whole town really gets into it. We have a great team this year. The quarterback is being scouted by top tier college teams,” Matt answers, while pulling on his jacket and shoes. “Did you need my help setting up anything in your room?”

  My mind blanks for a minute, still digesting what he told me, before his question fully registers. “No, I got it,” I reassure him, shaking my head.

  “Make sure you eat,” Matt instructs, before heading outside.

  The silence echoes in the home as I make my way back up to my room. I throw my bag on the bed, before heading to the kitchen. Armed with a couple slices of pizza and some water, I start tackling my room. I make a wash pile with the sheets and blankets then a separate one for my new clothes. I quickly find the only power outlet in the room and plug my new lamp into it, before turning it on and testing it. It’s bright enough to keep the demons at bay, but not overpowering where I won’t be able to sleep.

  Putting my headphones in, I take my first load of laundry to the washer. I lose myself in the rhythm of Mako’s “Breathe,” singing and swaying my body to the beat. After days of being scared and unsure, it feels good to be doing something normal. Laundry isn’t exciting; it’s mundane, which is exactly what I need to feel like a regular teenager. Smiling, I shimmy my way back down the hallway, before sliding to my door Risky Business style. My glide is halted, though, when my body crashes into an immovable object, bouncing and stumbling backward. Catching myself, I straighten and come face to face with an unamused Ciaran. His glare travels over my body, and I become painfully aware that I’m only in a pair of sweats and my sports bra. Heat blooms in my chest followed by splotches of red over the exposed skin.

  “I’m so sorry,” I say, my eyes widening, while I watch his glare turn from disgust to rage.

  “Watch what you’re doing, Princess,” he practically hisses, “and put some clothes on. You may be a charity case but have some decency to act appropriately, okay?”

  Heat flares in my cheeks. “What the hell is your problem?” I spit the words out, matching his glare with one of my own.

  “You, being here.” He steps farther into my space. My body fights the instinct to back up. Instead, my head tilts back, never breaking eye contact with him. “I don’t like you. You’re only here because of Matt’s loyalty to all things Rogue. There are other people out there who deserve our help more than you and your family.” Each word from his mouth is like a sucker punch to the gut. My body literally folds in on itself in order to stop the painful verbal blows.

  “You have no idea—“

  “And I don’t give a fuck,” he cuts off my words, refusing to even hear my side of the events, which, these days, is typical.

  “You’re an asshole.” The words are bitter as they fly from my mouth.

  He smirks. “Yeah okay, Roxanne,” he says, before shouldering his way past me and into his room. His door slams shut, and I’m still frozen in place outside my room.

  Sighing in frustration, I open the door and close it behind me. My good mood goes from ten to one within a five-minute time span. Adrenaline fuels my anger. My body is alive again. Resentment, frustration, and pain swirl inside and pump into my veins. He called me Roxanne. I know the song he’s referring to and I hate that he thinks that of me. I need to hit something. I want to run. I crave the sting of the pain to wash away the feelings I’m experiencing. Pacing in my room leaves me breathless and fighting for air. My body sinks to the floor while my traitorous memory plays over every detail of the past few weeks like snippets and screenshots in my mind.

  Ciaran’s words mold their way into my conscience. And I hate that he’s right. Matt even said himself this isn’t a case they’d normally take on, but he did for my mom. Because of their history. Not everyone will agree with him, though. My dad destroyed lives. The news covered stories of the victims affected. One man even committed suicide after losing all his family’s money because of my dad. Other families lost their homes, or they were going to lose their long-time family businesses because my mom and I were too naive to open our eyes, and he was too much of a greedy bastard to stop. The worst story, the one that will haunt me until they find him, that was in the news after my dad’s arrest was the mother who killed her entire family after they lost everything. They lost their money, her position of employment was terminated for making a bad deal and signing with my dad, and their friends turned against them for bringing my dad into their lives as well. Tears spill down my cheeks, remembering that family’s photo when it had flashed across the television screen.

  Ciaran is brutal yet honest and the sudden realization
that Monday is not going to be a walk in the park for me becomes real. These kids are going to know who I am or at least have heard of my family and what my dad has done. All the fight and strength leaves my body. Sagging onto the bed, the tears start again. Starting over is no longer appealing. Monday will be the same story as before, just a new state and a different area code.

  Ciaran

  Monday arrives before I know it, and I really have to pretend to have my shit on lock down today. It was easier over the weekend. I worked during the day, Saturday and Sunday, and at night, we partied at the beach with a bonfire. Kai knew both Silas and I needed a distraction and needed to let loose, so, for once, he let us, keeping it under wraps from Matt. Needless to say, I avoided the house and the disaster. That’s what she is. A disaster that is going to bring havoc to the town. It doesn’t matter that her mom used to live here or that she and Matt used to be friends. Kelly almost destroyed Rogue when she left and married that prick. Her husband, though, is responsible for much worse. He’s an international criminal. He ran instead of facing the charges. This is not how we operate. No matter how Matt tries to spin it, Saylor is still an outsider, and her family is currently leaching off the company he claims to be so proud of. The company our families have built to save those who need and deserve our help. Not to be a shelter for an entitled, spoiled princess, who couldn’t be bothered to try and preserve an ounce of discretion. Who the fuck has purple hair anyway?

  “Straighten your shit out today,” Matt warns, peering at me across the kitchen. “I mean it, Ciaran, she’s staying, so you and Silas need to move on. Even if we talked about it beforehand, it wouldn’t have mattered. I’d still had helped Kelly.”