“You ready to go in?” Scar questions, the pity lacing his tone making my stomach curl with unease.
I never thought I’d see the day where I’d have to be invited into my own house.
But then again, I also didn’t think I’d see the day where my mom would have to kick me out of it.
“Yeah,” I say in a hoarse voice. My vocal cords are still strained from all the shouting and begging I did this morning. My throat hurts like a motherfucker, too. I wouldn’t be surprised if I woke up tomorrow unable to make a sound.
“It’ll be okay,” Scar lies to my face, but I appreciate him making shit up to make me feel better.
“No, it won’t.” I state the fact before climbing out of the car and slamming the passenger-side door.
The truth is, nothing is ever going to be okay again.
Because Hadley knows what I did.
More importantly, she knows what I didn’t do.
I didn’t report Gray’s killer to the police.
I didn’t give her brother the justice he deserved.
I didn’t come through when she needed me the most.
The best excuse in the world couldn’t make up for the fact that I condemned Hadley and her mom to three years of agony.
My mom texted me that it was okay to come home a few minutes ago. I know it’s not fair to her. I put her in the middle by lying and ruining every good thing in my life.
She and Lillian came home just minutes after Hadley locked herself in the downstairs bathroom.
They knew something was wrong the second they heard Hadley’s sobs. I was pounding on the door, imploring her to open up and let me explain. I begged and I begged until my voice gave out.
After that, all I could do was repeat that I loved her.
It didn’t take my mom and Hadley’s long to put two and two together.
Not exactly the best way to tell your mom you hooked up with her best friend’s daughter, I know.
That’s when my mom pulled me aside, gripped my shoulders, and said, “I don’t know what’s going on, but you need to go.”
My initial reaction was to object to the idea. “Like fuck I do! I’m not going anywhere. I need to—”
“Kane, honey, look at me.” My mom cut me off, staring me dead in the eyes as if to drill the words into my brain. “She needs space. You hanging outside the door is not going to help. You’re just making things worse.”
I knew she was right. I knew it in my fucking bones, but that didn’t make letting go any easier.
“Baby, I promise I will let you know when it’s okay to come home, but she’s not in the right headspace to listen to you right now.” She glanced at Scar. “Can you take him somewhere to cool down?”
My drummer didn’t hesitate. “Come on, man.”
He reached for my arm, but I flung it away, walking back to the bathroom door and whispering a weak “Hadley, I love you. I love you so fucking much. I can explain everything. I promise.”
Scar had to practically drag me out of the house and into the car.
We’ve been driving around town all day. It goes without saying it was the longest afternoon of my entire life.
I spent most of that time blowing up Hadley’s phone with apologies, despite what my mom said. It took everything I had to walk out of the house earlier. I didn’t have enough self-control left to stop myself from texting her.
She didn’t answer one of my texts, not that I expected a different outcome.
My mom is the first thing I see when I step foot inside the house. She’s drinking coffee on the couch, wrapped in a plush blanket.
She puts her coffee down the minute Scar and I pass the threshold and round the couch.
Then she’s pulling me into her arms.
“Oh, my sweet boy.” She rubs my back in a circular motion. I melt into her embrace, the pit in my throat sharper than glass.
She has no idea what’s going on, and yet, she’s comforting me. She hugs me like it never even occurred to her that I might’ve done something horrible. Her faith in me will never cease to amaze me.
Hadley used to have that kind of faith in me…
“Where is she?” I croak the second we separate.
“Outside,” she says, taking my hand and squeezing.
I give a small nod, reading the pity in her eyes loud and clear.
This is the part where I lose her.
I venture onto the patio, closing the door and scanning the vicinity.
Nothing.
“Hadley?” I call.
I search the backyard for a few minutes, stopping near the edge of the patio and making out what seems to be a silhouette in the distance.
She’s down on the beach, standing inside the gazebo, where I first kissed her weeks ago.
Fuck, I shouldn’t have kissed her that day.
That’s what started this whole mess in the first place. I was doing so good before I tasted her. I’d managed not to touch her, even though every atom in my body begged me to.
I was supposed to stay away from her. I figured it would be the only way I’d get through the summer without my guilt eating me up from the inside.
The more I avoided her, the easier it was to forget about that night.
About the part I played in Gray’s death.
But then I caved.
I kissed her.
And I was done for.
Before I knew it, kissing her wasn’t enough. I needed to feel her. To please her. To have her in any way that I fucking could.
It all started here.
Only seems fitting for the story to end here, too.
I jog down the stairs leading to the beach, a pressure spreading inside my chest and stopping me from inhaling all the way.
Her back is facing me when I come to a stop behind her. I can see her body shaking from repressed tears, her arms folded over her chest as she hugs herself, as though she needs all the courage she can get.
“Hads…” My voice trembles.
She spins at the sound of her name, her body racking with a silent sob, and my fists clench.
I’ve never hated myself more.
“Let me tell you how this is going to work,” she chokes out, rubbing her palms up and down her arms.
I move closer, itching to hug her.
“You’re going to tell me everything. Every single detail. Who did it, how you found out about it, when you found out…”
My throat aches, a sign that I’m on the verge of falling apart.
Fucking get it together.
“And then?” I breathe.
“And then…” She stops, closing her eyes for a moment. “You’re never going to see me again.”
My heart caves in on itself.
She sits down on the gazebo’s built-in benches, gesturing for me to join her for the last time.
I sit down next to her, take a deep breath, and tell her a story there is no going back from.
THEN
KANE, 17
“The first break you’ve had in years, and this is how you want to spend it?” Scar raises a brow, staring at me from the passenger seat of my rental car.
I shrug, slouching in the driver’s seat. “No one forced you to come, dipshit.”
My drummer snorts, opening a bag of Sour Patch Kids. “No, but your hot mom asked me to watch you, and I take my job as your chaperone very seriously.”
I cringe. “Call my mom hot one more time and I’ll shove that bag somewhere you won’t be able to get it back.”
He lets out a laugh, popping a Sour Patch Kid into his mouth. As annoying as he is, I’m glad he’s the one joining me on this trip instead of my mom. She wasn’t sold on the idea of letting me go on a vacation by myself.
You’re not even eighteen yet, she said when I told her I wanted some time on my own.
She’s been following me on tour for two years now. She says she’ll be damned if she leaves her underage kid without adult supervision.
She eventually caved, but not before I told her that Scar would be with me at all times. Scar might only be two years older than me, but he’s considered an adult—pretty damn ironic that he’s the least mature person I know.
I check the time on my phone for the tenth time in under two minutes and drop it into the center console of the car.
School will be out at four.
Just fifteen more minutes until I see her again.
“I’m just saying—” Scar props his feet up on the dashboard. “—you could be anywhere in the world right now, and you chose fucking Silver Springs.”
The bastard has a point.
My US tour wrapped up just a week ago. I should be parking my ass on a beach right now, but instead, I’m here.
Staking out Easton High like some sort of predator.
It’s the first time I’ve been allowed a real vacation since I started touring—and by real vacation, I mean longer than a few days. I’m off for an entire month, and the first thing I did was get on a plane back to the town I left behind two years ago.
“I told you I’m here to see a friend,” I lie.
Technically, that’s not a complete lie.
I am in town to hang out with Gray, but he’s not the reason I’m waiting in this parking lot.
The reason is her.
Hadley.
I’m here to see her again.
I wonder what she looks like now.
Does she still wear her hair up? Do her eyes still sparkle when she smiles? Does she still dress the same?
Does she hate me?
I have no fucking idea what I’m going to say to her. Or if she’s even going to want to talk to me, but I figured she’d have a harder time telling me to go suck a dick if I was standing in front of her.
I know I messed up. I shouldn’t have gone radio silent on her, but part of me knew that staying in touch with this girl would make my new life unbearable.
Being with Hadley would’ve made me hate my dream career and the constant traveling it requires.
I cut her off before I could get addicted. Tried to spare myself the withdrawal by putting a thousand miles between us, but she’s been on my mind every damn day for the past two years.
And fuck, that kiss…
It didn’t exactly help me move on.
It took me a while to understand that running wasn’t the answer. I’d rather be long-distance with her than not have her in my life at all.
I’m hoping once I tell her why I did it, she’ll give me a second chance.
I’ll spend all thirty days of my vacation begging on my knees if I have to.
My phone chimes with a text just as the bell goes off in the distance.
It’s Gray.
GRAY
I can’t hang out tonight. Got basketball practice and then I’m watching the store. But I’m off tomorrow.
I texted him right when I landed, asking him when he was free. Of course, I didn’t tell him I was hoping to spend my first night here worshipping every inch of his sister’s body.
KANE
All good, man. I’ll stop by your house tomorrow night.
He texts me back instantly.
GRAY
You sure? Hadley might see you.
Right…
I’ve asked him not to tell Hadley that he and I keep in touch. He knows what happened between us, and he agreed it was for the best.
I’ll never forget what Gray said when he found out I’d hooked up with his sister. I’d just walked into our bedroom after kissing Hadley in the shed on her birthday, and I felt horribly guilty for not telling her I was leaving. Not to mention I’d made out with my oldest friend’s sister behind his back.
Gray took one look at my face and immediately knew something was wrong.
He asked me about it, and the truth just came pouring out of me. I told him everything. I told him about our meetings in the shed, the kiss, my confusing feelings for her.
He didn’t say a word at first. Then he pushed off our bunk bed and took a few steps toward me.
I was sure he was going to punch me in the face, tell me to never look at her again, but instead, he asked me if I was serious about her.
If you’re serious about her, you have my blessing. But I need to know you’re not going to bail and break her heart were the exact words he said to me.
I was fifteen. I’m not sure I even knew what “serious” meant. Not to mention I was supposed to be getting on a plane the next day. And so, I said nothing.
After that, he made me promise to stay away from her. He said he’d rather die than let his sister get hurt.
I wasn’t ready then.
But I am now.
Today is the day I get my girl back.
KANE
I’ll talk to her. Make shit right.
He texts me back right away.
GRAY
Okay, but just a heads-up, she hates you.
I figured as much.
“Which one’s your friend?” Scar calls for my attention.
I told Scar we were picking up Gray to justify us coming here.
I look up, glancing at the building towering in the distance and the steady flow of students gushing out of it.
“He doesn’t need a ride after all. We’re hanging out tomorrow.”
Scar’s brow furrows. “All right, then. Let’s go back to the rental.”
This would’ve been so much easier if he’d just stayed there to begin with.
“In a minute,” I mutter, scanning the crowd for her fiery-red hair.
“Who are you looking for?” Scar asks.
I pretend not to hear him, my pulse skyrocketing every time a girl with Hadley’s hair color wanders into my field of vision
“Kane?” Scar presses.
I can feel my entire body contract when my eyes land on her.
Hadley. Fucking. Queen.
Chatting with her friends, she comes jogging down the stairs with a denim bag dangling off her shoulder.
She’s wearing a cheerleading uniform, a black-and-white top with a sexy little skirt that makes my eyes bulge out of their sockets.
Her body’s changed—obviously. The curve of her hips is more prominent, and her tits are noticeably fuller, but she still wears the same hairstyle. Every part of me wants to get out of my car, march over there, and talk to her.
Problem is, it would cause a panic, and I don’t have security with me. Plus, I don’t want to risk alerting the media that I’m here.
Wow, I did not think this through.
I tell myself I’ll just follow her home and wait until I’ve got her alone.
Spoken like a true serial killer.
Jesus, Wilder, be more of a creep.
“Who’s the hottie you’re staring at?” Scar questions.
My fists clench.
“Family friend” is all I say.
Scar’s eyes widen with realization. “We were never going to pick up your buddy, were we?”
“Nope.”
He scoffs. “Well… You coming to this shit town instead of the Bahamas suddenly makes a lot more sense.”
My eyes track Hadley’s every move as she stops just a few feet away from the parking lot, laughing with her cheerleader friends.
I’m surprised she joined the team.
I didn’t even know she liked cheerleading. I figured she’d be spending all of her time in her shed, painting.
Unless she doesn’t paint anymore?
She was so talented, it would be a shame if she stopped.
“You’re going to go talk to her?” Scar drives his elbow into my ribs.
“Not now, that’s for damn sure.”
Scar finishes the Sour Patch Kids and says, “Probably a good call. You don’t need a bunch of trampled cheerleaders on your conscience.”
I begin mentally making a list of all the things I’ll say to her when I—
“Who’s this guy?” Scar speaks my mind.
I dig my nails into my palm when some douchebag with a varsity jacket comes up behind Hadley and wraps his arms around her waist.
No.
“Maybe they’re friends. Or he’s gay.” Scar tries to soften the blow.
And it almost works.
Until he spins her around, cups her face, and kisses her.
It feels like getting stabbed in the chest with a butcher knife.
I blink repeatedly, as if to cleanse my mind from the image of them together.
Scar cringes. “Okay, definitely not gay.”
“I’m such a fucking idiot,” I whisper to myself.
Did I really think a girl like Hadley would stay single for two years? I never even answered her texts or reached out to her. Of course she’d move on with some asshole from the basketball team.
Why wouldn’t she?
It’s not like I gave her a reason not to.
I squint, making out the surname plastered on the back of her boyfriend’s varsity jacket.
Aster.
This Aster guy tickles her from the moment they move away, and she fakes a smile, shooing his hand away.
Fucking rookie.
She hates being tickled. She once kicked Gray in the face, almost breaking his nose, to get him to stop. He doesn’t even know her.
Why does he get to be the one kissing her?
“I’m sorry, man.” The pity in my drummer’s eyes makes me nauseous.
She kisses the lucky motherfucker again, crushes her body to his, and slips her hands deep into his hair.
“Whatever,” I drawl, starting the engine and backing out of my spot. “Let’s get out of here.”
I must have a taste for torture because I glance into the rearview mirror as I drive away, watching him kiss the hell out of her.
My Hadley.
Mine…
But that’s just the thing, isn’t it?
She’s not mine.
Even though I’m still hers.
“Remind me again why we couldn’t just go home?” I hear the words Scar is saying, but they don’t register, his voice a dull echo as I pull into the driveway of the only other people I know in this town.
Brody and Finn Richards.
Part of growing up with a rich father is getting to know other rich kids.
The Richards and my family were what I like to call convenient friends—i.e. people you wouldn’t be friends with if it weren’t for the fact that you run in the same social circle.
Everybody knows the rich life tends to be a lonely one.
Once you reach a certain level of wealth, things get messy.
Sometimes because your ordinary friends start to expect you to pay for everything; other times because your lives, goals, and schedules simply don’t align anymore.
Sooner or later, rich assholes find themselves other rich assholes to talk to.
Hence, convenient friends.
The Richards and my family went to the same country club for years before my dad died. We’d also get invited to the same events, and Brody, Finn, and I were usually the only kids there.
Granted, Finn was two years younger than Brody and me, but I liked Finn better than his older brother.
My mom agreed, calling Brody a delinquent and the embodiment of apathy. Partly because he was always lying and manipulating people, but also because he was the type to “throw his own mother under the bus if it benefited him.”
I haven’t talked to these guys once in the past two years, the last time being when I moved into Hadley’s house and Gray dragged me to a party.
The Richards were there, and we exchanged numbers.
Now, would I consider these people my friends?
Not really, but I sure wouldn’t mind some “convenient friends” right about now.
I want to get fucked-up.
To drink until I don’t remember Hadley’s name, let alone what she looked like kissing someone else.
And Brody might be a liar and a bit of a narcissist, but if there’s one thing the guy is good at…
It’s partying.
“Why don’t we just head back to the rental?” Scar insists when I don’t reply.
I completely ignore him. “Brody said to meet them in the backyard.”
“You sure this is a good idea? Getting fucked-up won’t change anyth—”
“You’re welcome to get an Uber and leave,” I say dryly.
The town is so small I don’t know if they even have Uber here.
“No way in hell,” he protests.
“Then stop bitching.”
Normally, I wouldn’t be this careless.
I’d have Drea send over NDAs directly to Brody before getting anywhere near his house, but the burning sensation in my chest won’t let me be reasonable.
I just want one night where I don’t have to worry about my image or my reputation. I just want to get drunk with a bunch of townies and forget that I lost the only girl worth fighting for.
“How many people are there?” Scar asks as we climb out of the car.
“Just him and a few of his friends.”
Scar cocks an eyebrow. “Who? Do you know them?”
“No.”
His disapproval is made clear by his frown, but he doesn’t voice his concerns, biting his tongue. Blaring music emanates in the distance, and we follow the beat to the backyard.
We’ve just reached the fence when I hear what sounds like muffled voices. I can’t discern the words spoken, but the overall tone paints me a pretty clear picture.
Two people are arguing.
The closer we get, the louder the voices grow. I’m quick to realize the strangers are right around the corner and stretch my arm out in front of Scar, stopping him.
“You didn’t see shit, Mitchell. You were high off your face.”
“I know what I saw. You were fucking the—”
Brody cuts him off. “If I were you, I’d think very carefully about what I’m going to say next. Last I checked, I’m not the only one with skeletons in the closet.”
There’s a beat of silence.
“Was that a threat?”
“If that’s what it takes for you to keep your fucking mouth shut,” Brody spits.
“I told you those things in confidence.”
“And I’m telling you to mind your fucking business unless you want me to pay your little sister a visit. Dia, is it?”
“Fuck you, Richards.”
My reflexes kick in just in time for me to grab Scar and take cover behind the garden shed on our right. We watch as the guy Brody was talking to storms past us and out of the backyard.
Looking at him tells me hiding was a good move. He’s tall, on the buff side, too. I don’t want to know how he would’ve reacted if he’d caught us eavesdropping.
“What the hell was that about?” Scar mutters.
I shrug. “No fucking idea.”
Scar scoffs. “Your friend sounds like a tremendous guy.”
“He’s not my friend.”
Although tonight, he will be.
Scar and I cut across Brody’s backyard, meeting him and two of his friends by the pool.
They’re passing a joint around, seated on the patio furniture. The air is dense with smoke, the smell of weed infiltrating our lungs the second we reach them.
“Fuck me. Is that Kane Wilder?” Brody says in a high-pitched voice, fanning himself like he’s one of my groupies. He rises off the three-seater, making his way over.
“Glad you made it. How’ve you been, man?” Brody pulls me into a bro hug, patting my back. He introduces me to the group as soon as he’s pulled away. “Guys, this is Kane. We’ve been friends for ages.”
I force a smile, greeting everybody. It’s funny how he’s making it sound like we’re tight, when really, I haven’t thought about this guy once in the past two years.
You wouldn’t believe the amount of assholes I’ve had claim to be my friend since my career took off.
New day, same shit.
“I’m Axel.” The younger-looking guy waves, eyes bloodshot from the substances he’s been abusing. He looks higher than a fucking giraffe.
“Dean,” Brody’s other friend says.
“This is Scar.” I point to my drummer, who I have no doubt wouldn’t have bothered introducing himself. He looks like he’d rather swallow that entire joint than get to know these people.
One thing I like about Scar is that he doesn’t pretend for anyone. If he doesn’t like you, you’ll fucking know.
“Go ahead. Make yourselves at home.” Brody gestures to the patio furniture.
I plop down into the one-seater nearby while Scar drags his feet to the three-seater and takes the last spot next to Axel.
“Aren’t you supposed to be off doing superstar shit?” Brody drops into the hammock across from me.
“I’m off for a month,” I say.
“How long are you in town for?” Brody opens his hand, glancing at Axel, who quickly takes the hint and passes him the blunt.
“Not long. Two days, tops.”
There’s really no point in sticking around now that Hadley’s out of the picture. I’m thinking I’ll head back to LA and hit some after-parties.
Brody lifts the joint to his lips, dragging a hit. “Well, then… since we only have tonight, what do you say we make the most of it?”
He extends his arm in my direction, offering me a puff.
Now we’re talking.
What the hell did I get myself into?
Just one of the questions I’ve been asking myself since I got behind the wheel of Dean’s shady van a little after midnight.
Don’t ask me how I got roped into being the designated driver. I couldn’t tell you. All I know is there was a coin toss involved and a shit ton of tequila.
“Dude, seriously? Grandma just passed us,” Brody mocks from the passenger seat.
I may be drunk and an idiot for driving under the influence, but that doesn’t mean I’m dumb enough to risk getting pulled over. I’ve been watching my speedometer like a fucking hawk.
Man, the media would have a field day with this one. I can already see the headline popping all over the internet.
Kane Wilder arrested for driving under the influence.
“My guy’s got the grass.” Axel looks up from his phone. “He says to meet him behind the abandoned movie theatre.”
We ran out of weed an hour ago.
Then the guys decided to go meet their dealer in a sketchy part of town to buy more. In hindsight, that probably would’ve been a good moment to call it a night, but I wasn’t ready for the party to end—to Scar’s absolute misery.
I make eye contact with him in the rearview mirror. He’s staring daggers at me from the back of the van. He wanted to go home hours ago, but I insisted on staying. I still see her face whenever I close my eyes.
Translation: I’m not drunk enough.
“Tell him we’ll be there in a couple years. Maybe sooner if someone would just step on it,” Dean scoffs from the back seat, and I flip him off in the rearview mirror.
I may be a slow driver, but it’s not like his shitty van has much horsepower to begin with. The thing is covered in rust and making all sorts of weird noises.
The clunker also doesn’t have any seats in it, except for the driver and passenger seats. The guys are sitting on the ground like a bunch of hostages, passing a liquor bottle around.
When I asked Dean what he uses the piece of shit for, he said he uses it for his job. His answer made Brody snort. The whole thing seems sketchy as fuck. Not that I care.
I’ll never see any of these guys again after today.
“I’m fucking starving,” Axel complains as we’re turning onto a familiar street.
“Same,” Dean agrees.
They’ve got the munchies.
Classic.
“Dude, dude!” Axel, who’s seated behind me, taps me over the shoulder repeatedly. “There’s a store. Pull over!”
I glance at the convenience store they’re talking about
It’s right down the road.
But it’s not just any store.
I’ve been here before.
Hell, I’ve lived here before…
This is Lillian’s store.
Above it is the house where I lived for months after my dad died. Last I heard, Gray and Hadley work the register on school nights to help out their mom and make some money.
Matter of fact, Gray’s working the store tonight. That’s why he couldn’t hang out.
It feels so weird being here again.
The next thing I know, I’m turning into the parking lot, my eyes flocking to the large window on the second floor.
This is Hadley’s bedroom.
I wonder if she’s up there, sleeping like a baby.
Maybe she’s out with her boyfriend. It is Friday night.
Maybe they’re going at it on her bed. Images of her clawing at that guy’s back as he fucks her fill my vision, and I clench the wheel until I can’t feel my fingers.
“Holy fuck,” Deans blurts out just as I’m slowing down before the entrance. “Richards, isn’t that where the asshole from the party works?”
Brody’s eyes light up with realization. “Shit, I think you’re right.”
The asshole from the party?
“Did you ever get back at him for that stunt he pulled?” Axel questions.
“Him who?” I ask.
“Grayson Queen. The motherfucker whooped Brody’s ass last week.” Dean takes his closed fist to his mouth, stifling his laughter. “Gray heard Brody talking shit about his prudish sister and lost it.”
My eyes widen.
Hadley…
Brody’s features twist with anger at the recollection. “It’s not my fault his sister’s a stuck-up bitch.”
Dean snorts. “I don’t know how my brother does it. They’ve been dating for months, and she still won’t put out. If it were me, I’d have pinned that girl down and fucked that virgin pussy from day one.”
Rage replaces the blood in my veins.
He would’ve forced himself on her is what he’s saying.
It takes all I have not to follow Gray’s lead and crash my fist into his jaw.
“Bastard’s lucky I was wasted.” Brody clenches his teeth at the recollection, his anger picking up steam. “Man, I should wipe the fucking floor with that kid.”
“Why haven’t you?” Dean pours fuel into the fire. “He fucking humiliated you. I say you go in there and show him who’s boss. Unless… you’re scared you can’t take him?”
I cast a glance toward Brody.
And see a switch flip in his eyes.
It’s like something died… Like whatever humanity he had inside him was drained from his body.
His fragile ego couldn’t handle the blows, and Dean knew that. He knew exactly how to push his buttons.
“You thinking what I’m thinking?” Brody asks Dean.
Dean nods. “That kid needs to be taught a lesson.”
“You still have them?” Brody adds.
“You bet.”
What the fuck is happening?
Scar and I trade glances, the look in his eyes matching the confusion in mine.
I realize what a monumental fucking mistake I’ve made when Brody reaches inside Dean’s glove compartment…
…and pulls out a gun.
“Dude, what the fuck?” I blurt out, backing away.
“What the hell are you doing?” Scar echoes.
“This isn’t fucking funny, man,” Axel joins in.
Brody lets out a dark chuckle. “What? You pussies never seen a gun before?”
I haven’t.
Not up close, anyway.
“Bro, just put the gun away.” Axel tries to talk some sense into him.
“I don’t think so,” Brody says through gritted teeth. “Let’s see how brave this asshole really is.”
That’s my snapping point.
“Fuck this shit. Scar, let’s go.” I start to unbuckle my seat belt, ready to make a run for it.
But something stops me.
Something cold.
It prods the side of my head, pushing against my temple.
“You’re not going anywhere,” I hear Brody’s snarl, but all I can focus on is the pounding of my heart in my skull.
It takes me a split second to understand Brody is pressing the gun to my head.
Gasps ricochet around the car, but no one speaks, the shock descending over us snuffing out our ability to speak.
I just wanted to party and drink my troubles away.
How did I end up here, stuck in a car with two psychopaths?
“Do you think I’m stupid? I let you go, and you’ll go straight to the police. Like it or not, superstar, you’re a part of this, too.”
Brody lowers the gun from my head long enough to pull out a ski mask and another gun from the glove compartment.
Then he hands the spare gun over to Dean.
Brody throws the mask on, the material concealing his identity. “Give me your phones.”
We don’t move or react for a few seconds.
“I said give me your fucking phones! Now!” Brody snaps, pointing the gun at Scar and Axel.
The weapon kicks us into high gear, and we practically throw our phones at him. Brody proceeds to shove all three of our phones into the back pockets of his jeans.
He points to us with a flick of his chin and tells Dean, “You take care of them. I’m going in.”
“Copy that,” Dean says. “Get the money, too.”
Brody pulls a large black gym bag from underneath the passenger seat and scoffs. “I always do.”
Holy shit…
This isn’t a first-time thing for them, is it?
They do this often.
Jesus, is that why Brody laughed when Dean said he uses the van for his “job”?
They’re fucking robbers.
I bet they steal all sorts of shit together. I know Brody’s dad refuses to give his sons a penny, hell-bent on teaching his kids how to make their own money, but Christ, I never thought Brody would break the fucking law to get some.
I meet Scar’s gaze in the rearview mirror, and he gives a small nod. I immediately know he’s up to something. I think I see him mouth the word wait, but I’m too busy imagining all the ways things could go horribly wrong to be certain.
Once Brody’s out of the car, it’ll just be Dean.
That’s three against one.
My best guess is Scar is going to try to disarm him.
If we’re lucky, we’ll knock him out and go get help.
But if we’re not…
It’s curtains for Scar.
I have no idea how far Dean is willing to go. From the looks of things, he and Brody are just low-grade robbers, hitting a few stores here and there. Maybe some vacation homes. Odds are they’re all talk and wouldn’t ever pull the trigger.
The question is: am I willing to bet Scar’s life on that?
I inhale a sharp breath when Brody casts a final glance at his accomplice, the vicious smile stretching across his lips chilling me to the bone, and climbs out of the car through the passenger-side door. I watch him make his way to the entrance of the store and disappear inside.
Fuck.
Gray.
I don’t even have time to worry about him because Scar’s launching himself at Dean before I can make sense of what’s happening. Dean falls onto his back, and Scar jumps at the opportunity to clock him in the face.
“Run!” Scar hollers like we’re in a fucking action movie, and a rush of adrenaline surges through my veins. I unbuckle my seat belt, about to haul ass out of the van to try and get help, but then…
All the hope in my body bursts into flames.
Dean manages to elbow Scar in the face and regain control of the situation, climbing on top of him and angling the gun underneath his chin.
“Don’t be a fucking idiot,” Dean growls, fury seeping out of him. “This doesn’t have to get messy.”
What does that even mean?
Are they just going to let us go after this?
And if they do, what’s stopping us from going straight to the police station?
There’s no way this is not going to get messy.
Either they kill us, or we rat them out.
There’s no door number three.
Scar seems to share my thoughts because he blurts, “Are you fucking kidding me? It doesn’t have to get messy? It got messy the second you—”
That’s when I hear it.
The gunshot.
It resonates through the night, the sound making my throat close up and blocking my airways until my lungs feel like overinflated fire balls.
Brody was probably just trying to scare Gray.
That was just a warning shot.
It had to be.
Brody comes rushing out of the store with the black bag in his hand, and Dean starts shouting at me. It’s something about “getting ready to drive,” but my ears are ringing.
Something’s wrong.
“Let’s go!” I hear Dean scream as soon as Brody drops into the passenger seat. “Are you deaf? Fucking go! Now!”
The gun is back on my temple before I know it, pressing so far into the side of my head my skull radiates with pain.
Brody is hyperventilating next to me, his entire body shaking.
Scar’s voice is the only thing to pull me out of the trance dragging me under.
“Kane, fucking drive!” he begs, the concern in his tone rebooting my brain.
My foot comes down on the gas so hard the tires screech as we take off at maximum speed.
Brody starts throwing up all over himself, mumbling nonsense as his body spasms. “I didn’t… I wasn’t… I didn’t mean to…”
“What the fuck happened?” Dean yells, but Brody doesn’t answer. “Brody, what the fuck did you do?”
On autopilot, I drive and drive, images of Gray flashing before my eyes, the memories we’ve made from age five up until this moment flashing before my eyes.
I see it all.
Us sharing a bedroom.
Us laughing on the Fourth of July.
Us lying to our moms so we could go party on the beach.
Him asking me to promise that I would treat his sister right.
“Look me in the eyes and promise me you won’t break her heart, Kane. And if you can’t, then promise me that you’ll let her go.”
Tears start spilling down my face.
Almost as though I know what Brody’s about to say before he opens his mouth.
“He…” Brody chokes. “He said my name.”
“What?” Dean presses.
“He recognized me. He fucking knew who I was, and I… I just panicked,” he says in between vomiting.
“Don’t tell me you killed him,” Dean belts out, panic consuming him. “Do not tell me you fucking killed him!”
Brody says nothing, gasping for air.
That’s all it takes for me to know.
Gray’s dead.
Gone.
And I just became the getaway driver to my best friend’s murder…
