“You’re really not going to tell her the truth?” Finn asks.
I drag my hoodie over my head and stare at him in the darkness.
We’re all sweating after the November Bash jam session. The concert is in two weeks, but Bex Dane invited us to play with his band, just for fun.
My brothers were interested so I went along, but my heart wasn’t in it. I spent most of the time listening to the other band members rather than playing.
“Why would I tell her the truth? What good will that do?” I growl, stomping into Redwood Prep.
I want to pick up an amp from the music room. Bex Dane has a tech guy who knows sound systems like a doctor knows the body. We haven’t been able to get anyone to fix that speaker and I figured Bex Dane’s guy was worth a shot.
“You saw the way she was looking at you, right?” Zane smirks at me, an eyebrow raised. “If I were you, I’d watch your back at night.”
“She’s not going to do anything.” I step into the hallway leading to the practice room.
“How are you so sure?” Finn baits me.
I place my card on the scanner and watch the familiar green light. It looks extra bright in the darkness.
Redwood Prep is always creepy at night, but it’s even more so after the fire. The stench of sulfur and smoke still lingers in the hallway. There’s water damage all on the walls and the lockers.
I push the door in and stop short when I see the mess on the floor. Our practice room is trashed. Pillows on the floor. Trophies in pieces. The sofa on its head. Moonlight glitters against tiny glass shards.
I rear back.
Finn walks in next to me and his eyes widen. He raises both brows when he sees the destruction. “You were saying?”
“Holy mother of—” Zane cries out. “My drums!”
I slice my gaze over to Finn, my eyes deadly serious. “Go check your guitar.”
He nods.
I walk forward slowly, as if I’m moving through water. My guitar is on the ground, strings extending out like a woman’s hair.
“She didn’t touch my drums,” Zane announces quietly.
“She didn’t touch my guitar either,” Finn says.
My brothers come to join me and we all stand around my shorn guitar like we’re at a funeral.
A muscle ticks in my jaw, but I don’t let the rage out in my voice. “She made her point.”
“What are you going to do?” Finn asks me, his gaze dark and cool.
Any other culprit and he wouldn’t be this calm nor would he be asking that question. No, if it were anyone else who dared to mess with us, Finn would have asked ‘what are we going to do’. And the suggestions would not have been pleasant.
But my brothers don’t seem all that concerned with revenge right now.
“You still thought it was a good idea not to tell her?” Finn presses.
I wipe my sweaty hands on my jeans and turn sharply.
“Where are you going?” Zane asks.
I stop and turn, my dark gaze sweeping across my brothers. “To take what’s mine.”
CADENCE
There’s a noise from the kitchen when I come out of the shower. My fingers tremble and I grip the hem of my T-shirt.
Back going ramrod straight, I unbundle my dirty clothes and grip the knife I took into the bathroom with me. The handle is smooth to the touch.
There’s another noise.
My heart pounds.
I take a hesitant step forward, listening for even more sounds.
The person isn’t trying to be quiet. I hear the fridge door open and shut along with the rattle of cutlery.
My throat feels like it’s being squeezed so tight, I might explode.
But I keep moving forward.
Back against the wall, I push my head out a little so I can peer into the kitchen.
There is someone in my apartment.
But it’s not the person I expect.
Dutch Cross is sitting around my dining room table, casually eating a sandwich. His long, slender fingers swipe at a spot of ketchup against his mouth and I watch, my insides twisting, as he sucks the ketchup off his thumb.
My legs start going weak and I grip the wall even tighter. How did he get in here?
“Cadey,” Dutch’s voice has a dark thread running beneath it, “would you like a sandwich?”
My heart is currently climbing all the way up my esophagus, but I don’t let it show. Pulling on my armor of indifference, I move into Dutch’s line of sight.
He’s wearing a hoodie, sneakers and jeans. His big body is curled in the chair, lounging as if he’s on vacation. But those eyes tell a different story. When he lifts them to my face, a powerful, tingling sensation sweeps over me.
I approach him cautiously, my head held high. “How did you get in here?”
He simply watches me, not saying anything.
I march right up to the table. “What do you want, Dutch?”
“I considered letting you go.” He sets the sandwich down and wipes his fingers against a napkin. Confident and cold. “But I saw my guitar in pieces and realized that it’s impossible.” He sighs and looks up at the ceiling with those magical honey eyes of his. “You just cemented your place, Brahms.”
“Get the hell out of my house!” I hiss, my fingers tightening around the knife.
He runs his tongue over his bottom lip and watches me with an appreciative glint in his amber eyes. I’m keenly aware of my limp hair, over-sized T-shirt and the tights that barely cover anything.
Dutch’s eyes shift from the color of sun-soaked autumn leaves to dark shadows. “I was hoping you’d come out of the shower in a towel. Bummer.”
My nostrils flare.
My heart is about to fly out of my chest.
At that moment, I know why Dutch is here.
I know why he’s not making a mess of my house or threatening me or even calling the cops on me.
It’s tonight.
He’s taking me tonight.
“Really, Cadey, don’t look so scared.” He tilts his head and studies the knife. “What are you going to do with that?”
He’s right. I’m not going to stab him. He’s not the one I want to hurt the most tonight anyway.
I release the knife and it clatters to the ground next to my bare feet.
The tension in the air thickens and it, somehow, feels more dangerous. As if I’d actually gone and tried to stab him.
I grit my teeth. “Why didn’t you just tell me that you weren’t the one who set the fire?”
Dutch’s eyes go flat even as he flashes a sharp, dangerous smile. He leans forward on my dining room chair. It might as well be a throne of gold the way he lounges on it.
Confidence screams from his skin, like he owns everything and everyone in the universe. Like I should be grateful that he’s asking when he could simply take by force.
“How did you break into the practice room? Did Sol give you his key card?” I don’t miss the slight clench of his jaw when he asks.
“You don’t answer any of my questions and you expect me to answer yours?”
His head tilts back. “What do you want to know?”
“Why did you want me out of Redwood?”
He purses his lips. “Just before summer break, we snuck into school and got caught trying to steal something. Sol took the blame. Right after, we left on tour. We abandoned him.” His eyes fall to the ground. “When we came back from tour, he’d disappeared.” Dutch motions to me. “And his scholarship spot had been given to someone else.”
“Me,” I whisper, the realization stealing my breath.
“Sol was never supposed to leave Redwood. We needed to bring him back where he belonged, but to do that, we had to get rid of you first.”
It makes sense. Their insistence. Their cruelty. It was nothing but torture on my end, but Dutch was going all out for a friend.
“You could have told me. When Sol came back, you could have clarified it.”
“Then all would have been forgiven?”
My hands explode in the air. “Of course not! What you did was still messed up. You ruined Mr. Mulliez’s career. You made my life a living hell.”
“Exactly. Telling you wouldn’t have mattered. I’d rather show you what I feel.”
“How?”
He continues to smile in that away that gets under my skin. My fingers curl into the T-shirt so hard that I’m sure it’ll leave a permanent wrinkle.
Dutch stares at me, a hot and sticky kind of look that makes me feel like he’s touching me even though he hasn’t lifted a finger.
A part of me longs for him to pierce this stupid tension, but another part of me is scared. Scared I won’t be able to handle it if he does.
Without a word, Dutch goes into his hoodie pocket, lifts a velvet box and tosses it next to the knife beside my foot. My breath catches as I reach down, grab it and lift the lid.
There’s an actual freaking diamond in there.
