“CLAY, LET’S GO!” Krisjen pulls me toward Callum’s car.
But I dig in my heels, everyone scattering around us and engines firing up. Guests at Mariette’s turn their heads to see what’s happening, and Trace hangs out the window, howling as Dallas speeds them away.
Saber Point Lighthouse is a short mile up the coast, and they’ll kill us on the road, trying to get there first. What a perfect cover up for our murder. No, thank you.
Callum grabs my arm and twists me around. “Are you okay?” He takes hold of my face, as if the motorcycle spokes got me.
“I’m fine.” I push his hands down. “It was fun.”
He chuckles, hooking an arm around me.
“What a fucking asshole,” Amy bites out.
“Not at all.” I smooth out my clothes and check my handbag to make sure nothing spilled out when that ass threw me over his shoulder. “I would’ve done no differently in his shoes.”
Macon is smart. Liv was holding out on me. Playing a lot nicer than she had to. She had options for retaliation. Why didn’t she use them?
Amy pulls me. “Let’s get out of here.”
“We’re not going anywhere.”
My friends gape at me, and I’m not sure if they just want to go home or still get the flag, but they definitely don’t want to stay here.
Liv runs out of the autobody shop, slowing when she sees us not running. Suspicion etched on her face, she hops into the cab of a truck, the guy in the passenger’s seat getting out and giving it to her and jumping into the bed himself. Army drives off, Liv next to him, but her eyes remain on me until she passes.
“Are we going for the flag or what?” Milo snaps. “They’re going to beat us.”
I slowly back away, eyeing my friends. “I have another idea.”
Spinning around, I bolt down the road, past shacks and rundown lawns, houses barely held together with spit and glue and chipping blue paint.
“Where are we going?” Krisjen calls as we leave the lights of the main village.
“There’s another flag,” I tell her.
“Where?”
I twist around, running backward with a smirk pulling at my lips. “Their house.”
Her mouth falls open, and Callum laughs, everyone picking up their feet and running faster, excited. Their house isn’t on the way to Mariette’s—the only reason anyone from across the tracks comes over here—but I’ve driven past a time or two.
We race up to the house, an old Spanish-style pigsty that must’ve been great in its heyday, but lack of funds and the deterioration of the property values around it makes it look abandoned. The porch light glows bright, but no windows are lit up and no cars line the dirt road in front. I tip my head back, taking in the broken clay shingles and dead ivy scaling up the pink stucco walls to the second floor.
It was probably a very beautiful place once. The Seminole flag hangs above the detached garage, the bottom blowing in the light breeze.
“What a dump,” Amy grumbles. “If I lived here, I’d want to kill myself, too.”
Liv’s mother comes to mind, all of us knowing she died in this house. The story was she hung herself in the shower. Was Liv in the house at the time?
“I’m sure it’s tolerable when you don’t know anything else,” I reply.
Callum jumps up and rips the flag off the garage, and I step up to the door, touching my fingertips to the heavy, dark wood. Hundreds of years of rain weigh on it, and I run my hand up the surface, my body humming.
It feels like her. Cracks and splinters and sun and thunder, but she’s still here. I inhale a deep breath, gripping the door handle.
“Want a beer from their fridge?” I ask my friends.
I open the door, my heart skipping when it gives way. How did I know they would think they were safe enough to never lock their door? No one steals from Macon Jaeger, right?
“Clay!” Amy shouts.
I walk in, my friends following, all of us tracking mud into the terracotta foyer. Stairs sit right in front of us, and I look left and right, finding a living room—if you can call it that—and a pool table in what should probably be the dining room.
The chandelier suddenly illuminates, lighting up the whole space, and I hit the switch, shutting it off again. “Flush the bong water out of your head,” I growl at Milo.
Dumbass.
We filter out around the house, Milo and Krisjen heading for the kitchen and the beer, while Amy stays with me, and Callum inspects a tarnished silver candlestick before dropping it to the ground.
The crystal candy dish goes next, crashing into a hundred pieces on the tile, and I hear a commotion in the kitchen, knowing Milo is trashing the place. I pause, but then I realize Macon Jaeger almost killed me tonight, so fuck him.
“Don’t do that!” Krisjen yells to her boyfriend right before I hear something shatter.
“Shut up,” Milo tells her.
“God, you’re an asshole.”
“What are you gonna do about it?”
I round the railing to the stairs, their voices disappearing as I ascend, remembering her in the locker room this week. Come to my shitty house tonight. Sweat with me between the sheets.
Climbing the stairs, I draw in the scent of her that fills this house, hating how cold it is and how you can smell the mildew in the wood, but… While my house is clean, always tidy, and bright, it’s doesn’t have something hers does.
Gliding my hand up the railing, I take in the pictures on the wall on my way up, seeing some missing, as well, by the looks of the outlines where portraits once hung. Mismatched frames and some with broken glass feature black and whites and some from a hundred years ago, probably great grandparents and other ancestors.
There’s one of their whole family, including Liv’s dad, crowded into an air boat, and one with Iron holding up a baby alligator and looking happy.
There aren’t many of Liv. I’m guessing picture-taking hasn’t been a priority since her mom and dad died, and she was so young.
I wander through the bedrooms, dipping back out as soon as I go in, because the smell of boy makes me want to throw up, but when I open the door to the last bedroom on the right, it’s different. It’s not hers, though. I know that instantly.
The bed is made, the floor is tidy, and it smells like furniture polish.
Macon. I guess military habits are hard to break.
I step in, seeing his room has a bathroom. Callum trails me, and I grab the flag out of his hand and run to the bed, crashing on top of it.
“Get this,” I tell him, spreading the flag out above my head as I lie on my back on Macon’s bed.
Callum grins wide, snapping a picture. “Goddamn.”
Before I can get up, he comes down on top of me. I freeze and his mouth is on mine before I know what to do.
“We have to get out of here,” I tell him, squirming.
“No, you gotta say yes,” he tells me. “I have a picture of you on a much-older man’s bed now. What will your parents think?”
Is that blackmail? He pushes my shirt up and sucks on my breast through my bra so hard that my spine steels, my alarm raising.
No.
“Callum,” I warn, pushing at him.
But instead of getting off me, he licks the skin on top of the bra, trailing kisses all over my chest.
I bare my teeth, fisting his shirt. “What will my parents think of doing business with Garrett Ames once they find out he’s raping his teenage daughter?”
Callum halts, and I almost smile, despite the shudder in my body.
Did he really think he could pull this shit with me? Who else has he victimized?
He pushes off, rises from the bed, and looks down at me like I’m now the enemy.
“Well, well, well,” he muses. “You just got interesting.”
To be honest, his sister probably thinks she’s a willing participant, but the man is in his early fifties, and we all have skeletons. I can throw a punch same as Callum.
“I will have you, Clay.” His tone has an air of finality to it and an edge of a threat he’s never spoken to me with before.
Yeah, you just got interesting too.
I hear Krisjen yell outside, Milo probably doing something stupid again, and Callum turns and leaves.
I sit up on the bed, watching the door to see if he comes back, an unease settling in my gut I’m not used to feeling. First with Liv and her brothers tonight, and now with Callum. I’d told Macon his power was an illusion, but it was becoming clearer that mine was too.
Shit.
I fist the flag, grinding my teeth together as I toss it over my shoulder. I rise and walk out.
But I notice the door across the hall, next to the bathroom, and I know it’s Liv’s. Stickers plaster the door, some rainbow flag ones peeking out. I grip the handle, but I don’t go in.
It’s so stupid, but if I ever find myself here again, I don’t want to have to tell her I snooped in her room uninvited.
I drop my eyes and my hand from the knob.
A knock lands on the door downstairs, and I twist my head, my heart skipping a beat.
It’s not the Jaegers. They wouldn’t have knocked.
I jog down the stairs, keeping my steps light and see Amy come around the stairs from the kitchen. Her eyes are wide as we both look to the door, and I try to decide if we should make a run out the back door.
But then we hear her voice. “Liv?” a woman’s voice calls. “Anyone home?”
I go still, recognizing the voice. Megan .
“What the hell is she doing here?” Amy whispers.
“Liv?” She knocks again.
I ball my fists, jerking my head at Amy and sending her to the kitchen. I follow, moving backward down the hall and keeping my eyes on the door.
Son of a bitch. No wonder Liv hasn’t tried for more with me in the days since the locker room. No wonder. She and this bitch are going at it, happy as clams.
I shake my head. That bitch.
Shielded in the shadows of the stairs, I only hold back a moment before I say, “Come in!” And hope she doesn’t recognize my voice.
I slip into the kitchen, Amy lurks on the other side of the fridge, hiding herself as I keep the lights off.
I don’t know what I’m going to do, but Megan Martelle sure as shit won’t be here when Liv gets home.
The door opens.
“Liv?” she calls out again. “Hello?”
I kick one of the chairs at the table, hoping she’ll follow the noise, and then I park half my ass on the table, waiting for her.
She rounds the corner, coming into view, and I let my eyes trail down her skirt and legs and wonder if she’s wearing any underwear. She’s dressed to get laid, and my anger rises. What did they have planned tonight?
She sees me and stops. She takes a step back.
“Team meeting?” I ask. “It’s kind of late.”
Amy steps away from the refrigerator, and I see Megan’s back go straight, her guard up.
It fucking should be.
“Go get Krisjen,” I tell Amy.
She leaves, and Megan searches the wall for a light, asking, “What’s going on?”
But I speak up before she can find it. “You tell me.” Tears burn my eyes. “What are you doing to her? Am I next? Do you watch us in the showers?”
“What?”
Vomit rises up my throat. I hate all the shit coming out of my damn mouth. Megan isn’t bad. She’s weak and a little annoying, but she isn’t hurting Liv. If anything, Liv was in control in that video.
And that’s why I took it down. I couldn’t stand it. Liv was into it in the car with her. So into it, and it hurt.
She raises her chin. “I’m going to Father McNealty tomorrow and reporting you.”
I laugh, the bitterness choked through the tears that she can’t see in the dark. “Please do.”
I hop off the table and approach her. “You’ll have to tell him why I’m so angry with you and what you’re doing at a student’s house, late on a Saturday night. Then, he’s going to find out it was you in the sex tape with her, and you will never get another job again.”
“Screw you, Clay!” she yells. “I have family too, and they’re not the Jaegers whom you think you can bully.”
“Stay away from her or else.”
“Or else what?” she fires back. “You going to take another video of us? Well, enjoy yourself, because when she graduates, and I go to college in New York in the fall—oh, did she tell you about Dartmouth? As luck would have it, we’ll be that close to each other…” And she gets in my face, taunting me, “And then I can fuck her every weekend where you can’t get a hold of her.”
My eyes go wide, burning.
“We’ll be gone, and we’ll laugh about how sad you were.” She laughs. “Or are.”
I grit my teeth together.
“You don’t deserve her attention,” she says, “and pretty soon she won’t think of you at all!”
“Ugh!” I slam my hands into her chest, and she crashes into the wall next to the doorway. She cries out, falling to the ground, and I spot the garbage can next to her and grab it.
I hesitate a moment, a sob stretching my throat so tightly it hurts. Fuck it . I lift it high and dump everything on her head, and she screams as remnants of gumbo and chicken noodle soup smear all over her.
“Clay!” she cries.
I drop the can and clutch her jaw in one hand and the back of her neck in another, bringing her face up to mine. “Look at me,” I grit out. “Look at me!”
She raises her eyes, whimpering. “Stop.”
“Shut up,” I say, tears welling in my eyes, because I know I’m losing. I’m going to lose her forever. “Her team spots her. Do you understand?” And then I lower my voice, pressing my forehead into hers hard. “ I spot her. If I have to repeat myself again, I will do damage you can’t come back from. She is seventeen, a minor, and…”
Mine.
Megan coughs, and needles prick my throat, because she doesn’t deserve this, but it can’t happen. Megan doesn’t deserve her. And Liv doesn’t get to have someone. She doesn’t get to forget about me.
She stares at me, clearing her throat as something crosses her eyes. “You want her,” she pants. “That’s what this is about. Oh my God.”
Tears spill.
“You’re a…a…”
And I throw her down, ready to hit her until she can’t say the words loud enough for anyone to ever hear.
“What the hell?” someone bellows.
I look up, seeing Liv standing in the doorway as I hover over Megan on the floor.
Liv runs up, flipping on the light. She takes in Megan and me and dives down to pick up her friend; Megan shivering like a scared rabbit as she grapples onto Liv.
Liv turns to me. “What the hell is the matter with you?”
Her brothers spill into the house behind her, and I grab the flag from the table and bolt out the back door and into the yard.
Patting my hand over my mouth and singing, I dance into the forest. “I got the flaaaaag,” I call out. “Come and get it!”
I dart back toward the village and Callum’s car, but in moments, Liv is on my tail. I feel something muddy hit the back of my knee, and I’m on the ground, flipping onto my back and looking up at her.
She comes down, pinning my wrists to the ground.
“Get me off the ground,” I order.
“In the dirt is where you belong!” she spits out. “You’ve never been uglier to me. How could you do that to her? What the fuck is wrong with you?”
I don’t answer, clenching my teeth so my chin doesn’t quiver.
I know she’s right. The walls close in, and sometimes I feel like I want to die.
“That money and that house doesn’t make you clean,” she says. “It just provides a shield of defenders who are only there because they hope to get something out of you. They don’t love you. No one loves you!”
She rises, and I pause, her words sinking so deep I can’t breathe.
In a fog, I climb to my feet.
“What, am I supposed to treat you like glass because you have a dead brother?” she bites out. “I’m supposed to make an exception for your behavior, even though a toddler has better fucking manners than you do?”
I clutch the flag in my fist as she advances on me and backs me into a tree.
“I swallow your shit,” she growls, her cheeks flushed, “because you’re not important enough to spare an effort, but I’ve reached my limit. I’m tired of hearing that I’m not good enough. That I deserve to be treated like garbage, because of who I am or where I come from or who I want to be with.”
I blink away the tears, steeling my jaw.
“That I can’t have that . Or that’s not for me, or I’ll never have that life,” she continues. “A lifetime of being told I’m wrong for your world. Of not seeing myself in your school hallways and represented in your town.”
“You won’t find what you’re looking for in the back seat of your car either!” I grit out.
She nods, looking like she has more to say, but deciding that it’s not worth it. She looks at me, several breaths passing before she drops her gaze and murmurs, “Or at Marymount, I guess.”
I narrow my eyes. “What does that mean?”
She’s been there almost four years. She’s all of a sudden realizing she doesn’t fit?
She meets my eyes again, swallowing and sounding calm, her anger suddenly gone. “It means I don’t have anything to prove. I don’t know why I ever thought I did. Especially to you.”
Because…because what happened in the locker room wasn’t one-sided. She felt it, too. “Because you want to touch me,” I tell her.
She scoffs, tears glistening in her eyes. “Is that what this is about?” she inquires. “Don’t think what happened in the locker room was real, just because I kissed you back. I was angry and full of a lot of steam to blow off, and pretty much in fucking shock too, but I don’t want you, Clay.”
No?
“You’re like vanilla,” she says. “I mean, yeah, it’s ice cream, but it’s not really an option when there are other choices that taste better.”
She turns away, and I grab her, but instead of yanking away from me, she grabs me back and presses me into the tree, its bark digging into my back.
She glares.
“Don’t say that,” I whisper.
“Why?”
“Because I can’t…” I don’t know how to explain. “I can’t… I can’t…”
I don’t want you. I can’t want you. It’s just…
So I say the only thing that I do know for sure. “I can’t leave you alone,” I tell her.
That’s all I know. I need to feel it again.
My hair falls in my face, but I can smell the remnants of her watermelon lip gloss. “Ask me to touch you.”
Please. I want her to want me to touch her. I won’t force her like last time. Ask me.
But she just shakes her head slowly, and I don’t know what it means.
I place my hands on her waist. “Ask me.”
But just then, a low hiss pierces the air somewhere behind her, and we both freeze.
My pulse echoes in my ears, and I peer over her shoulder as she turns her head, both of us spotting a glowing pair of eyes low to the ground about ten yards away.
“Liv.”
“Shhh.”
She still holds me pressed to the tree, but both of us are too afraid to move. I resist the urge to push her behind me. Alligators can’t hear outside of water, but they have great night vision. I might not be Swamp, but any Floridian over three years of age knows the basics.
“Don’t leave me,” I beg.
She grew up out here. I don’t know what to do.
“When I say,” she tells me in a hushed tone, “run back to the path and follow it as fast as you can. They don’t move quickly outside of water, but there could be more. Don’t zig zag.”
“Huh?” Why?
But she doesn’t wait another second. “Run.”
“Liv!” I gasp, not ready.
She grabs my hand and we pound the mud, the reptile slithering into view, growling and hissing, and I can’t not look back. I scream, and Liv crashes into me, falling.
It advances, moving right for her, and she scurries back, trying to get up until it’s damn near snapping at her feet.
“Ah!” My lungs drop to my feet, and I cry out, grabbing her and hauling her up. “Oh my God.”
We run, stomping through the mud and jumping over fallen logs, and I take her hand, not letting her go until we reach the paved road, the streetlights shining overhead. I dart my eyes all around us, making sure we’re safe.
“Did it hurt you?” I ask.
But she just stares at me, breathing hard and sweat glistening on her brow.
I don’t know what I want to say. Thank you? Are you okay?
I’m sorry, maybe? I want to say I’m sorry for so many things, because I look like shit in her eyes.
“Touch me,” she says.
And my heart leaps into my throat. I hesitate, because I’m afraid she’s fucking with me, but then I seize the chance offered and take her face in my hands.
She doesn’t pull away as I hover over her mouth, every inch of me warm under my skin. She covers my hands with hers, and whispers, “Take care of yourself, Clay.”
“What?”
But I don’t have time to figure out what she means when she pulls away and casts one last, long look before spinning around and running back into the forest, toward her house.
I take a step. The alligator is in there.
But coming just around the corner is Callum’s car, and I only consider running after her for another second before he’s on me, Amy and Krisjen calling out and opening the back door for me to climb in.
Take care of yourself, Clay.
What does that mean?
