by Max Henry
“Is Christian with you?” James asks. “In earshot?”
“Nope. I’m out the back with Greer right now.”
“I spoke to Derek. He’s doing damage control, starting with the Prescotts and then moving on to the Fellows.”
“You think that will do us any good?”
“I honestly don’t know, but we have to try everything at our disposal, don’t we?”
I snort, drawing James’ irritated scowl my way.
“Something you want to share with the group, Tuck?”
“They’re a bunch of teenagers,” I explain. “The lengths we’re all going to make it seem as though it’s a damn rebel army on the way.”
“They may as well be,” Lacey says softly. “We’ve seen what happens when the masses get together before, and it didn’t end prettily.”
“We’ve all had crazy parties. How is this any different?”
“They have endless resources.”
“He’s right,” Lacey affirms, eyeing me from beneath her lashes. “I know you don’t get it, but where I come from, they have no qualms about destroying property or people’s character because everything has a price.”
“You keep saying this,” I say, standing. “But all I hear is you gouging that division line deeper between us out here in Arcadia and your lot in Riverbourne.”
“Don’t be like that,” she murmurs, moving closer despite her father watching us like a hawk.
“No.” I stare at the phone while I talk as though that’ll get my point through to Colt better. “Until you all admit that they’re not these untouchable gods, then you’ll never bring an end to all of this.” I shift my focus to James, hoping as a reasonable adult, he’ll understand what I say. “This is the whole reason the animosity started in the first place: Riverbourne jerks shitting in our backyard because they believe their money makes them better than us.”
“They don’t think it makes them better; they believe it provides an advantage.”
I shake my head, one hand scrubbing through my hair. “Nah. See, that’s where you’re blind.” I huff my frustration at how ignorant they all are. “Half the families out these parts are far wealthier than your lot on paper. Our land is worth millions, the generations that have farmed the same blocks making that investment priceless. The only difference between you and us is that we have the humility not to lord it over our peers.”
“I’m sorry to say this, Colt,” James shares. “But he has a valid point.”
“What the fuck do you want me to do about it? You expect me to change a society’s culture with the snap of my fingers?”
“No,” his old man replies. “But I think we have to stick to what Lacey mentioned and treat them how we’d want to be treated. These kids are hurting and looking for attention; they just don’t know what kind they need.”
“So, sharing a fucking prayer circle and linking daisies is meant to fix it?”
“God damn it,” James roars, fingers pressed to his forehead. “Of course not. But maybe if we focus less on what we do now and more on how we react when the inevitable happens, we’ll be in a better place, to begin with.”
“You want us to let them come and do what they will?” Lacey asks her dad.
He nods. “Yeah. I guess so. Let them come. Let them crash Dee’s party, and let’s show them such a good time that they forget why they were even there.”
“The ultimate truce,” I mutter, running through the likelihood of this working in my mind.
“I’ll tell you if I hear more,” Colt says with a sigh. “I have to go try and explain this bullshit to the others.”
“Catch you later.” James reaches across and ends the call, then sliding the phone to Lacey.
She rises to her feet and steps around the table to where I remain rooted on the spot. “Come on, Tuck. We’ll go to my room and see if anyone’s heard from Ed and Johnson.”
“Yeah, sure. Okay.” A loaded breath rushes past my lips.
It’s only one night. Whatever happens on Dee’s property, at the end of the day, this is a mere blip before the rest of my life unfurls. As important as it all seems now, memories will fade, and people will move on. Even the worst fallout will become nothing but a footnote in the history of Arcadia.
I have to believe that because the alternative isn’t much fun at all.
Lacey turns for the hallway, several steps ahead of me before I snap out of my stupor and figure I should follow. I turn toward her and stall at James’ quiet request.
“Tuck. Before you head down there with her, could we have a quiet word?”
Getting kicked by a horse feels better than this. “Sure.”
“Let’s head outside.”
GREER
Colt disconnects from his sister with a frustrated sigh as he reclines on the sun-lounger. “Well, that was a load of utter bullshit.”
“What did she say?”
“They,” he corrects me, rolling his head to face where I lie on the matching seat. “Lace put me on speaker. She was with Dad and Tuck.”
“And?” I extend my leg and push my toes beneath his thigh.
“Their theory is that if we shower the fuckers with love, they’ll have a come to Jesus moment and feel too sociable to bother creating havoc.”
“I’m assuming by your tone of voice you don’t think this could work in the slightest?” His discouraging view of the world seriously worries me.
“It takes one bad seed to ruin the crop,” he states, gaze hooded. “You know that.”
“You’re not a bad seed, Colt,” I softly say while reaching for his face.
My fingertips brush his jaw before he captures my hand, lifting it to his lips. “I’m sorry we were interrupted.”
“I’m not.”
His brow furrows, grip on my hand tight.
“I’m happy to wait until this night is over. I want to take my time with you. Savour you.”
A wicked smile tilts his lips. “Isn’t that what I’m supposed to say to you?”
“Apparently not.” I wriggle my toes beneath his leg.
He shifts to his side, facing me with his free hand tucked beneath that handsomely tortured face. “You’re the only thing that makes me smile anymore.”
“I’m sure I’m not the only thing.”
He doesn’t seem to think so.
“What about Lacey?” I ask. His sister must bring a smile to his face.
Colt’s eyes glass over while he stares behind my seat in silence. A beat passes before he formulates a thoughtful reply. “As long as she’s threatened, I could never feel the same joy around her as I do with you.”
“Because you’re constantly on the lookout.”
He nods, shifting his ice-cool eyes back to me. “Lacey was mine to protect from the second my parents brought her home from the hospital. I’ve always been there to watch over her, and I don’t plan ever to stop.” His gaze falls away once more. “No matter the distance between us.”
A sharp chill runs my spine at the lamented tone of his words. He plans something. And I know I won’t like it.
“Derek is speaking to Richard and Libby’s parents. What for, I don’t know. If they had a snowball’s chance in hell of reining their children in, they would have done it by now.” He speaks with clinical monotony.
The faint glimpse of the whole-hearted Colt that peeked his shy head out a moment before has left. All I have now is the robotic son of a socialite.
The Colt I’ve known for years. Not the one I fell hard and fast for, while at his most vulnerable.
“We can only hope for miracles, right?”
His hand slides from mine, body slowly shifting until he sits on the edge of the lounger. “I should go let the others know.”
I lost him before he walked away. But the physical absence is what hurts the most. I get the insatiable urge to run after him and grab Colt by the arm, tearing him from this political nightmare. Every part of me wants to shield, nurture, and protect.
To
take the pain for him.
A gasp fills the void he left behind as I sit bolt upright. I get it. This is how he feels about Lacey. The self-sacrificing urge to give all that you have and more, because holding on to the life you have doesn’t seem important if the people you adore aren’t there to share it with you.
He loves her. Entirely in the way a brother should, but with this kind of ferocity, it makes me wonder.
Would I ever be enough in comparison?
The realisation weighs heavy, pushing me back into the lounger as the afternoon sun tickles the tops of the trees. I have no idea what time it is, but the night isn’t far away. Before long, Arcadia will teem with reckless teens too bored to stay long enough to appreciate the town for what it is.
Community. The real embodiment of wealth and success. Contrary to what we were taught as kids, abundance isn’t measured through monetary metrics alone.
Real wealth comes from having friends who’ll be there to protect what’s yours, even when you can’t. From having people who see you for your strengths and triumphs, not your failures and mistakes. And from soul-deep peace found in the silence between conversation, when you don’t want to be anywhere other than where you are right at that very moment.
Because nothing else could be as perfect.
I’ve never found these things in Riverbourne. And as much as that irritates me, mostly it leaves me sad.
Sad that the people who choose to make the city their home have no idea what they’re missing.
A lonely bird startles from its path across the lawn, searching out worms when my phone rings loudly from its spot on the patio. I reach down and answer, blindly lifting it to my ear while I watch the bird study me from its safe distance.
“Hello.”
“Thank God. You answered.”
I tug the device back to check the name. “Are you alright?” Ingrid’s the last person I would have bet money on hearing from.
“For now.” She hesitates, and the line rustles. “Are you able to come pick me up?”
She still can’t drive with her ankle strapped so stiff. “Not right now. What’s up?”
“I need to get out of here before Libby arrives.”
This could be a trap. “Good one.” I laugh best I can when forced through a thick throat. “What’s really up?”
“I’m serious, G.” More hesitation while she groans, presumably moving around. “My parents went wild about the pictures. If they’re still floating around the web when I make nationals, then it could blow up in my face. Worst case scenario, get me kicked off an Olympic squad.”
“I’m sure it wouldn’t matter that much what you did as a teenager.”
“They’re huge on integrity,” she stresses. “People were sacked for less.”
“What does Libby have to do with your parents’ reaction, though?” I sit up a little, tucking my knees to my chest.
“Shit.” A clunk pierces the line. “Sorry, I dropped my damn shoes. She wants to pick me up before tonight so that we can get ready at hers. G, I don’t want to go.”
“Then tell her that.”
“I can’t,” she whisper-yells. “You know how pushy and persuasive she is.”
“Tell your mum to say you’re not well.”
Ingrid snorts. “Yeah, as though that would wash.”
“Then get her to say you can’t go. Pretend you’re grounded because of the photos.”
“Greer,” she drones. “Can you come to get me this afternoon, or not?”
“Not.” I glance behind me toward everyone inside. “I’m not home, and I don’t have my car with me.”
“Shit.” She grumbles, the line scratchy while I assume she gets her shoes on. “Where are you? I could get an Uber there.”
“I don’t know if they come this far.”
“You’re in Arcadia already?” she breathes.
“No!” I draw a deep breath. “I’m with Christian.” My heart skips a beat; I don’t know if I should tell her that.
Libby wants Ingrid with her. A plan takes shape in my mind, my heart kicking up speed as the thrill of how well this could work out takes over.
“Go to Libby’s,” I say. “To be honest, Ingy, I don’t know if I can trust you, or where this sudden change of heart comes from.”
“I want out of this bullshit,” she laments. “I’m worried, G. If her games affect my future, I’ll regret it forever.”
“You were so against Colt and Lacey, though.”
“I still am,” she grumbles. “But I also want somebody to knock Libby’s feet out from underneath her.”
“Coming here won’t help anything,” I reason with her. “If you want to help bring an end to this, you’ll prove how serious you are and go to her place anyway.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“Eyes and ears, Ingy. She’s always underestimated you, babe. Show her how wrong she is to do so.”
A tense moment passes, my lungs painfully tight while I wait on her to share her thoughts.
“Okay.”
“Okay?” I realise my hand rests at my throat, the suspense too much.
“Yeah. You’re right. Libby needs to understand that she isn’t untouchable.” A sigh. “I’ll keep in touch via Messenger when I can.”
“We need to know what she intends to do.”
“I get that. Leave it with me.”
She hangs up before I can say any more.
She might not want to be Libby’s off-sider tonight, but that doesn’t mean she’s wholly on our wagon. It’s risky trusting her to be our spy, but what better opportunity do we have to get live updates on Libby’s battle plan?
I ditch the phone underneath my bent legs and then hug my thighs, face pressed tight into my knees.
“Fuuuuuuuck!” My hollered curse is muffled, quiet enough that even the bird didn’t startle this time.
If there’s one thing a well-bred lady knows, it’s how to lose her ever-loving shit in private.
COLT
“Who was that?”
Greer snaps her head around, sitting straighter so she can see me over the back of her lounger. “I thought you were still inside.”
“I was waiting for you to join us before we start.”
Her gaze drops to the phone in her hand. “I didn’t realise.”
“And now you do.” I know it—I’m a complete arsehole. “You didn’t answer me,” I state, pushing the cold bastard façade. “Who was that?”
“Worried that it’s another guy?” she challenges, narrowing her gorgeous honey-flecked eyes.
“Hardly.” I jam both hands in my pockets to save from doing something utterly embarrassing for her. “Are you joining us or what?” I couldn’t care less if the jackoffs in Christian’s living room caught a glimpse of my bare arse while I gave it to Greer, but I care about her modesty.
That’s all that stops me from picking up where we left off. That, and knowing I’d sully our first time together in the name of making myself feel better.
She deserves more than my selfishness.
“Ingrid is on her way to Libby’s.” Greer rises from the lounger, long legs graceful like a dancer as she moves toward me. “She seems determined not to be the next victim of Libby’s socialite agenda. Asked if I could pick her up. But I convinced her to be our eyes and ears instead.”
I hold her gaze, our faces so close I can feel the gentle gusts of her breath tickle beneath my chin. “Can you trust her?” My hands flex in the pockets of my jeans—as best they can in the tight confines.
“As much as you trust Willow.”
Oh, I trust her. Wouldn’t have utilised her in my petty blackmail if I didn’t.
I don’t trust Ingrid. But Greer seems comfortable enough with the risk, and I trust Greer.
“What game do you play?” I mutter through a dry throat.
Her long lashes sweep over her cheeks as she drops her gaze to where her hand presses against my heart. “No games, Colt. Just confirming something for my
self.”
“What?” I twist to follow when she breezes past. “Tell me what’s on your mind.”
“I would if I thought it would make a lick of difference.” Her phone rings again, and she stares at the screen by her side before tapping the End button.
“That’s the fourth time you’ve done that since I got here.”
She peers at me over her shoulder. Nothing needs to be said; it’s written in the peak of her eyebrows. She’s surprised I paid that much attention.
I always pay attention—more so than some realise.
“Your father again?” I take a step closer.
She backs away. “It doesn’t matter.”
“If it hurts you, it matters to me.” I keep moving until her back hits the French doors.
Barret lifts his head from his phone at the noise. I pay him no mind, nor Christian, where he frowns in my periphery as I set a hand to the glass to cage the target of my affection. Greer’s furrowed brow and pinched lips set vengeance afire deep in my gut. She’s mad at me for asking? She’ll soon see how angry I can get if she doesn’t answer.
“Your parents won’t keep us apart,” I growl low enough for her ears only. “No matter where in the world they want to send you.”
I don’t need the fuckers on the other side of the glass eavesdropping on our business.
“Colt.” She turns her head to look away.
I grasp her chin and face my girl forward. “Don’t you dare dismiss me.”
“Like you did to me just now?” There she is. The fight burns bright in her eyes.
“I didn’t dismiss you.” My thumb traces a path along her plump bottom lip. “I separated heart from head.”
“What the hell does that even mean?”
“It means if I let my heart rule what I do when I’m with you, Greer, we’d be out of this fucking town and finding our way in the world; however that looks. If you had to get a job waitressing tables and I was at the end of a goddamn shovel, I wouldn’t care anymore.” I pause to commit this to memory. To label it and assign it a trophy in my recollections that details the moment I sacrificed one of the women I care about most to help save the other. “But I can’t do that if I want to clean up this mess.”