Hood River Zero (Hood River Hoodlums Book 4)

by K. Webster

  Me: Kidding, bitch.

  Roan: You could bring Lacey…

  Her name has anger picking at my heart that feels scabbed over. It’s dumb to pine over a girl I slept with one night. We weren’t in love. Hell, she barely even liked me. But, because of that night, I think I might have fathered her kid. A small part of me wonders if I could talk to her, maybe she’d see that I’m not the asshole she clearly wanted to get away from. I could be a family man if I needed to be.

  Me: Garrett has a big-ass mouth.

  Roan: He’s my father-in-law and you’re one of my best friends. I saw him today and he mentioned what went down yesterday. You think you knocked up Lacey?

  Me: Remember when you saw Sebban? That feeling that hit you right in the chest? Like you just KNEW?

  Roan: Yeah, man. I do.

  Me: That’s how it was. I looked into that little girl’s eyes and just knew.

  Roan: So what happens now?

  Me: I need to find Lacey. Find out why she’s hiding in Florida and letting her dad babysit my fucking kid.

  Roan: I called Samantha to fill her in. She helped me. She could help you.

  Me: I don’t have money for that.

  Roan: We’ll figure it out.

  Me: Gotta run.

  I have nowhere to run, but the last thing I need is Roan playing hero when it comes to me. I can handle my own shit. I’ll find Lacey so we can have a heart to heart, and then I’ll see about getting shared custody of my daughter.

  What if she’s not yours?

  It’d be for the best. I’m damn near handicapped after my accident, barely have a job, room with my buddy, and don’t have a cent to my name. Taking on a kid when I can hardly take care of myself seems like icing on this “Fuck Terrence” cake. Still, if she’s mine, I’ll figure out how to manage.

  Blood before bullshit.

  I notice another text from Grandma telling me to come get my shit. Another day. Definitely not this one. Slowly, making sure the migraine doesn’t make me its bitch, coming out of the shadows like the boogieman, I crawl out of bed. I grab some clean clothes and head for the bathroom. After a quick shower and brushing my teeth, I follow my nose once again.

  Charlotte is my new favorite person.

  She’s cooking up something that makes my mouth water. I’m almost to the kitchen where Cal has her pressed against the counter, kissing her like he’s trying to possess her body with his goddamn devil soul when I sense someone, stopping me in my tracks.

  “Hey, Smash.”

  Penny sits on one end of the couch, giant headphones covering her ears rather than her usual AirPods, sipping on a bottle of water. Her blue eyes are dimmed and dark circles ring her eyes. I knew something was up at tryouts earlier today. She was off. Edgier than usual. A bomb ready to explode.

  “Hey, mean-ass.” I flop down on the couch next to her, kicking my bare feet up on the coffee table. “What are you doing here?”

  “Dad and Jace are watching football.” She cringes. “They’re so loud.”

  I study her soft, feminine features. Penny is one of those naturally pretty girls like Charlotte, but she frowns so goddamn much you almost don’t notice. Of course I notice. My dick notices pretty things. Getting my head cracked open like an egg didn’t change shit where that’s concerned.

  “It’s quiet here,” she says, hugging her knees that are pulled to her chest. Penny is covered in layers. Thick socks. Sweatpants. Hoodie.

  “Thank fuck,” I murmur. “What happened today?”

  Her blue eyes harden and her lips thin out as she presses them together. “I played like shit.” She shrugs. “Blame my period.”

  “Don’t lie,” I drawl out. “We both know something set you off.”

  She swallows, her throat moving in a way that draws the eye. “I like to dribble.”

  “So you had a meltdown when I wouldn’t let you?”

  “Stop talking.”

  I arch a brow at her, noting how she shudders. Her fingers mash at her phone as she turns up the volume. My eyes flick to see what song she’s using to drown me out.

  White noise.

  Not the song, the sound.

  She shoves her phone inside the pocket of her hoodie, closing her eyes. I study her features, wondering what’s going on with her. Drugs? Penny doesn’t seem the type. She’s an athlete through and through. Cares too much about being the best—which she fucking is. Despite her meltdown, she killed it today. The team is lucky to have her.

  Penny cracks an eye open. When she catches me staring, her nostrils flare, and she smashes her eyes closed again. A smile tugs at my lips. She’s such a brat. A cute one, but still a brat. Always up in everyone’s shit, throwing shade at them like it’s her job in life.

  She’s wearing her blond hair in a ponytail like usual. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her with it down. Ever. I’ve known her since before she hit puberty. Back when she was one of those zombie kids obsessed with her iPad and shit. It’s fascinating to me that she changed so much over the years.

  Reaching over, I tap on her pert nose, getting her attention. She pulls the headphones off, her signature scowl morphing her features.

  “Staring’s rude, Humpty Dumpty.”

  “I wasn’t done talking to you,” I murmur. “You can’t shut people out because you don’t want to talk to them.”

  I’ve hit a nerve because she bristles.

  “What?” she demands, fatigue in her voice. “Are you going tell me I played like shit? That I won’t make the team?”

  No tears or wobble of her lip. Nothing.

  Expressionless. Seemingly uncaring.

  Her eyes don’t lie, though. They flash with shame.

  “You goofed on one drill,” I admit, “but, let’s be real, Penny. You whipped everyone’s ass today.”

  Her blue eyes widen slightly. “I can do better.”

  “I don’t doubt it.” I reach over, tugging at a loose strand of blond hair. “You made the team in case you were worried. You and Tierra both.”

  She relaxes, the tension bleeding from her body. “Good.”

  “You going to Roan’s New Year’s gig?”

  “It’s either that or hang out with Jace and Dad.” Her lip curls up. “I’m not eager to spend an evening watching Dad suck the face off his girlfriend while Jace watches.”

  “He watches them make out?” I ask, amused by this tidbit of information.

  “Jace is a freak,” she reveals. “I bet he did all sorts of freaky shit in prison. Probably had orgies with guards and stuff.” Her eyes flash with wickedness. “We should ask Jordy if he was into it too.”

  I smother a laugh as I imagine Penny asking Jordy what sort of sexual shit he got up to while in the pen. That poor fucking guy will never live that shit down. I sure hope Little Hoodlum was worth it all.

  “Keep your ten-inch dick away from my little sister,” Cal says as he saunters into the living room.

  She flips him the bird before retreating back to her headphones. Cal’s an idiot. Like I’d be trying to get into the pants of Penny English. A fucking teenager. I’m too old for her, not to mention, I prefer my women sweet.

  Penny is fucking sour.

  She’s way cooler as a friend who likes to give me shit any way she can.

  Still, I can admit she’s pretty. She’ll make some guy her age very happy one day. Or girl. Hell, maybe she’s bumping uglies with my cousin for all I know.

  The thought of Tierra fucking anyone makes me cringe.

  Fucking gross.

  “Dude,” Cal mutters, punching me in the arm with his good hand as he plops down on the other side of me. “What’s going on?”

  I tear my stare from Penny’s nose that I only noticed tonight is sprinkled with a dash of freckles. “Hmm?”

  “You, man. You’re checking Penny out.” His brow is lifted, confusion swimming in his green eyes as he picks at a frayed end of his orange cast.

  “I’m not checking her out,” I grumble. I’m not. “I
was checking on her. Your player ass doesn’t know the difference yet. The rest of the human population can see women as more than something to stick their dicks into.”

  Cal snorts. “Please. Save me the hero speech. Like your ass wasn't fucking your way through every female at OSU.”

  “Just because I like to fuck doesn’t mean I want to fuck everyone I come in contact with.”

  “If you guys are done comparing who was the biggest manwhore in college, the spaghetti is ready,” Charlotte says, interrupting our bickering.

  Like she has him tethered on a string, Cal rises to his feet, making his way over to her. I take the moment to peek over at Penny. Her eyes are zeroed in on them, watching them with barely hidden interest. It makes me want to ask her what she’s thinking about. When she catches me staring, she rolls her eyes, yanking off her headphones.

  “Cal,” she calls out, “your ugly friend is broken. He won’t stop staring.”

  I laugh, shaking my head at her as I stand. “You’re such a little asshole, English.” I hold my hand out to her, offering to help her up from the couch.

  She eyes it like it’s a venomous snake. I could grab her hand and haul her up, but something in her tight expression has me dropping my hand at my side. She scrambles to her feet, unassisted, and walks around the coffee table, keeping herself at a distance from me.

  The dark, disgusting thoughts that sometimes overwhelm me rear their ugly heads.

  You’re a freak show, T.

  They can’t look at you now.

  “Don’t stand there looking like I kicked your puppy,” Penny says, her eyes sharp as she cuts them through me. “Just because I don’t wanna hold hands like a lovesick groupie doesn’t mean I don’t like you, ugly.”

  Her words chase away the shadows in my mind. Penny always has a way of doing that. Cutting through the bullshit and telling it like it is, but in a way that makes you laugh.

  “Yeah, yeah, mean-ass. I’m coming.” I tug on her blond ponytail. “Lead the way.”

  Penny

  Clink. Clink. Clink.

  Charlotte’s fork hits her plate each time she cuts into her spaghetti, making me tense up. Cal and Terrence both twist their noodles around their forks, splattering sauce everywhere, but my sister cuts hers into tiny pieces.

  We’ve gone to blows over this before.

  Once, when I was twelve, I was particularly irritated by the sounds she was making and deliberately sent my milk spilling across the table and into her lap. She screeched and bitched at me for not paying attention.

  But the sounds stopped.

  How do I make them stop this time?

  “Do you really think she’s yours?” Cal asks over a mouthful of noodles, his attention on Terrence.

  I’m dragged from the clinking to inspect Terrence’s features. His full lips press together as he frowns. I skim my gaze over his uneven flesh on his head where hair doesn’t grow. The dent would be less noticeable if hair grew there. It makes me wonder if it ever will.

  “It’s a real possibility the kid is mine,” Terrence says with a huff. “I need to find Lacey, but…”

  Terrence might have a kid?

  Interesting.

  “But what?” I ask.

  “I don’t even know where to start.” He scowls.

  I whip out my phone, ignoring my meal. “What’s her name?”

  “Lacey Henderson,” Terrence replies, his spine straightening. “She’s in Florida right now.”

  “What does she look like?” My attention is on my phone as I prowl through social media on a hunt to find her, starting with Facebook.

  “White. Blonde. My age.” He sighs. “It’s been years, so I don’t remember much else.”

  Strange.

  Nothing on Facebook.

  I skip over to Instagram. Nothing there either.

  “Have you asked Garrett to look into it?” Cal asks Terrence. “Maybe he could help.”

  “Does Dad know her?” Charlotte pipes in, setting her fork down.

  Thank baby Jesus for the reprieve.

  “Lacey’s stepdad, Jack, brought the little girl in to see Garrett yesterday. I tried to talk to Jack and he flew outta there with the girl. She looks just like me.” Terrence sighs. “I want to know for sure, but I can’t figure out how to get a hold of Lacey.”

  I take a moment to study Terrence. His skin is a dark, golden brown everywhere besides his pink, garish scars on the left side of his head. Mahogany-colored eyes are rimmed in thick, long black lashes that draw your attention there. His black eyebrows are a pleasant thickness—not bushy or thin—and the one over his right eye peaks a little higher than the left, as though he’s continually smirking or amused. I like how his nose is a little wide, and how his nostrils flare each time he breathes. His cheeks, chin, and around his mouth are dusted in shortly cropped black facial hair. Like his short hair on his head, his facial hair is trimmed along the edges in a blunt, precise way that makes me appreciative of the clean lines. It’s something people probably wouldn’t notice, but it’s evident he spends time making it perfect and I like that. The most intriguing part about him are his lips. They’re pink, the hue contrasting against his brown skin, drawing your eye to them. His bottom lip is a little fuller than the top one, giving him a naturally pouty look. The corners of his mouth curl slightly up, making it seem as though he’s always smiling, even when he’s not.

  Charlotte continues her clinking with her fork, jolting me out of my blatant stare down of Terrence. I shudder at the sound, trying to shake off the way it affects me.

  “I’ll get Jack’s address from Dad. We can pay him a visit,” I offer. “Shake him down.”

  Cal snorts. “Okay, Detective English. Because, yeah, that’s how the real world works.”

  I flip him off, flashing him my nastiest glare. “What are you suggesting? That he waits until she comes to him?”

  “I’m just saying it doesn’t work that way, kid,” Cal explains.

  “Not to mention,” Charlotte chimes in, “Dad isn’t going to give out his patients’ information.”

  “Who said I was going to ask Dad?” I lift a brow. “I have my own ways of getting info from him.”

  Cal rolls his eyes and Charlotte frowns in disapproval. Terrence, though, narrows his eyes at me, searching for my sincerity.

  “We’ll get to the bottom of this,” I tell him.

  His lips quirk up on one side in a boyish grin that makes my stomach tighten for some weird reason. Again, I blame my period and Charlotte’s spaghetti.

  The moment Cal starts mauling Charlotte in the kitchen as she tries to clean up dinner, I bail. Grabbing my coat, I toss it on and slip out of the cabin. A blast of cold air chills me to the bone, but I suck in a deep, steadying breath and walk down the porch steps.

  Outside, it’s quiet.

  Soundless.

  Perfect.

  Tiny dots of snow land on my face, cooling pinpricks on my warm skin. I close my eyes, reveling in the chilly silence. A soft click can be heard and then muted footsteps. The frigid evening air is blocked by a solid wall of heat. My heart rate speeds up, making blood rush to my ears, creating a white noise of sorts.

  I snap my eyes open, craning my head to look up at the man standing in front of me. Too close. Too close and yet I don’t step away. He’s tall like Cal, though maybe not quite his height. His head is tilted down as he stares at me, brows furled.

  “What?” I grind out, my voice husky sounding.

  “You shouldn’t be out here alone.” His words are a gentle whisper. “Not after what happened with your sister.”

  The heat that was coiling in my belly cools. “They’ve been dealt with, remember? The Cunninghams aren’t running loose and certainly aren’t concerned with me.”

  A blast of wind whistles past us, sending loose strands of my hair sticking to my face. Terrence raises his hand, making me tense. My frown deepens when he uses a finger to hook across the hairs, catching them in his grip. A shudder trembl
es through me as he tucks the hair behind my ear.

  Why is he touching me?

  Why don’t I hate it?

  “You know you can talk to me,” Terrence rumbles, the gravel in his words rolling over my skin in a painful way.

  I recoil, taking a necessary step back. “About what?”

  His droopy eye is no longer noticeable as his eyes narrow to slits. “Everything. Anything. Nothing.”

  Sounds like too many words.

  “I don’t like talking,” I bite out. “Talking is stupid.”

  It is. So stupid.

  “What if I was the one who needed to talk to you?” Vulnerability shines in his reddish-brown eyes that seem to burn with intensity.

  “I’d say talk to yourself,” I huff, crossing my arms over my chest.

  “Ouch.” He grimaces. “I thought we were cool, Penny.”

  Guilt claws at me, tearing holes into the impenetrable walls I keep around myself.

  “We’re cool, dent head,” I grumble. “I’m just not a good listener. Or talker.”

  “You’re good with Tierra,” he argues, his head tilting to one side as he scrutinizes me. “And she talks a whole fucking lot.”

  “You really need to talk to me?” I arch a brow up. “What about Cal? Roan? Jordy?”

  “They don’t get…us.”

  His words have my blood freezing in my veins. “There’s nothing wrong with me,” I shriek, my tone shrill. “I’m fine.”

  Bile rises in my throat.

  He can see?

  Terrence knows about the sounds? About the maddening shit that goes on inside my head every day? How? How does he know?

  My body shivers and my shoulders hunch.

  Will Dad find out? Will he make me see a shrink? Will I have to quit basketball?

  “You’re cold,” Terrence whispers as he steps closer, his massive hands curling around my shoulders, sealing in the warmth he emanates. “You need to get back inside.”

  “I n-need to g-go home,” I chatter out. I hate how weak my voice sounds. Like I might cry. I don’t cry, especially not in front of others.

  Concern flashes in his eyes as he dips lower to search my face. Enough searching. I don’t want him to find what I try desperately to keep under control.