“What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Don’t you want to protect yourself?”
“Sure.”
“You don’t sound very convincing.”
“I don’t know why, but I mean what I say.” But if it all comes down to it, which it has, I’ll choose my sister’s safety over my own.
As he starts scrutinizing me, I decide that I’m done with this conversation. I have more important and pressing issues to worry about.
“Totally off topic, but did you by chance hear back from your social worker?” I ask, taking another step back from him. Not that I’m afraid of him. It just seems that standing too close to Blaise Porterson somehow makes me stupid and foggy-headed, which is so the last thing I need right now.
His mouth turns downward as he glances at the space between us. “She hasn’t yet. If I don’t hear back from her by the time schools over, I’ll give her a call. As for my dad, I tried to call him before first period started, but his secretary said he had a meeting this morning with a new guy he hired, but he told me he’d have my dad call me back when he wasn’t busy.” He sighs. “In my dad’s world, that could mean days, so I might have to stop by his house.”
“You don’t have to do that,” I start, but he talks over me.
“Yeah, I sort of do. I need to talk to him about some other stuff anyway.”
I can’t tell if he’s lying or not.
“Okay, but if you change your mind, I’m perfectly fine with it.”
After what he told me about his dad hitting him, I’m in no way comfortable making him go see him just for my benefit. Besides, considering I’m Mr. Porterson’s new guy, I’m not sure if I have any more questions for Mr. Porterson. He made everything pretty damn searing clear this morning. But I do need to find out more about the situation with Axel.
“Do you think it’s okay if I go into my house today?” I wonder. “Or is this Axel dude going to stalk my house like twenty-four seven?”
He nibbles on his bottom lip. “I think you need to probably wait until I talk to my dad.”
“How’s your dad going to help us with Axel? I thought they were enemies?”
“They are, but like all enemies, they still know each other’s business.”
“All enemies do that?”
“Haven’t you ever heard the term keep you friends close and your enemies closer?”
“But then, why do they get pissed off when the people who work for them associate with each other, or work for both?”
“Because they’re both power hungry and want control,” he explains tightly. “If they do it, it’s fine, because they’re the bosses. But if the people below them do it, it’s disrespectful. Even my brothers and sister and I aren’t technically supposed to associate with anyone connected to Axel.” His jaw tightens as he stares off over my shoulder. “Amelia makes that really fucking complicated.”
“Do you two have history together or something?”
His jaw nearly smacks the ground. “Are you shitting me right now?”
I shake my head. “You seem really pissed off every time you mention her, like she’s your ex-girlfriend or something.”
His face contorts in disgust. “I swear I’ve never wanted to or have dated Amelia.” He gives a short, considering pause. “She’s not my type.”
“Yeah, your type seems more like that girl in our first period class. I don’t know her name, but she’s got blonde hair, blue eyes, big boobs, and a super, super pretty face.” I bite back a smile, angle my head to my side, and tap my finger against my lips. “Yeah, you two would be super pretty together. With her pretty face”—I pinch his cheek—“and your pretty boy face, you’d be the perfect, pretty couple.”
He stares at me, unimpressed. “You think me and Layla would make a perfect couple?”
“Her name’s Layla?” I muse. “Layla and Blaise? Yeah, it has a pretty ring to it.”
His teeth sink into his bottom lip as he stares at me unnervingly. “And what sort of name is Hadley?”
I grin. “A feisty name.”
“Nah, it seems more pretty than feisty.” He steps toward me and places his hand on the wall behind me, leaning in so our bodies are mere inches from each other. “The girl the name belongs to, however, might be a different story.”
“Oh, she’s totally feisty,” I assure him, refusing to step back.
“Maybe.” The corners of his lips quirk. “But she’s also pretty.”
I shake my head. “No, she’s not.”
“How do you figure?”
“Because pretty is more of a term used to describe a girlie girl who’s attractive, something I’m definitely not.”
“Yeah, you’re definitely not pretty.”
I grin, but my heart stupidly stings, like it wants to be called pretty.
What a dumbass.
He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear with his free hand. “I think beautiful is more accurate.”
I roll my eyes so hard they nearly get stuck in the back of my head. My heart, however, flutters. I already established how it’s a clueless dumbass.
“Oh, my God,” I say. “Seriously?”
“What?” Blaise asks innocently. “I’m just giving you a compliment.”
“In the cheesiest way ever. And besides, I don’t need any compliments.” I place my hand on his chest to shove him back and notice how swiftly his heart is racing.
So weird. Is he nervous or worried or something? Why?
“Then, what do you need?” he asks, refusing to budge against my half-ass attempt to shove him back.
“Lots of things, but none of those things are compliments.”
“Why? Do they make you uncomfortable?”
“No. But talking about this is making me irritated.”
“Sorry.” He sounds anything but. “You are beautiful, though.”
“What is wrong with you?” I scoff, beyond aggravated.
I don’t even understand why I’m pissed off. He isn’t being mean. No, I think he’s attempting to be nice and genuine, and for some reason, that’s pissing me off. I’m not used to nice and genuine guys, and I don’t need one in my life right now. If I did, then I’ll probably want to keep him, and that will lead to the breaking of my no dating rules, something I desperately need now.
“Nothing’s wrong with me,” he argues. “I’m just telling you what I already told you in that text I sent earlier.”
“Yeah, I know, but I was irritated with that text.”
“Well, I didn’t mean to send it.”
A bit of hurt prickles through me, but I ninja punch it in the throat—metaphorically, of course.
“Good. Because you don’t need to be thinking that I’m beautiful or telling me that I am.” I’m on the verge of yelling.
Yep, Blaise nailed it when he called me crazy.
“I still think you’re beautiful. I just didn’t mean to send the text.” He raises his voice to match mine, slanting closer.
My breathing accelerates. “Why did you type it at all?”
“I don’t know.” He’s breathing equally as hard, his attention seared on my lips. “Because it’s what I think.”
“Don’t,” I warn shakily, my breath faltering from my lips.
He remains mesmerized by my lips. “Don’t what?”
It’s terrifying how much I want to remain motionless. How much I want to feel his lips on mine. How much I just want to feel for once.
“Don’t kiss me.” My voice is weak, desperate. “Please. I can’t handle it right now.”
His throat muscles work as he swallows hard. Then he tears his gaze off my mouth and moves back, lowering his hand from the wall. “Okay.”
I nod unsteadily. “Thank you.”
He nods again, taking another step back. “We should probably go back inside.”
Great. Are things going to be awkward between us now?
“Okay, but can I just ask you one more question?” I ask, pushing a
way from the wall.
“Other than the one you just asked?” he teases, and I realize we might just be okay.
“Ha, ha, ha, you’re so funny,” I deadpan. “But yeah, I was just wondering who the old people are in there. Because no one ever actually answered that question earlier.”
“That’s because they’re not old.”
“Okay … How about older people?”
“Much better.” His smile is genuine. “They’re the owners of the auto shop and this bar.”
“How do you guys know them?”
“Jay used to work for my dad but quit when I was about ten or so. He was probably the closest thing I had to a dad up until that point.” He smiles wistfully. “He moved away from Honeyton for a while but returned a couple years ago. He’s really been there for me and my brothers and sister since then. Gave us jobs. Helped me learn how to do grown up things. Stuff like that.”
“Your eyes light up when you talk about him,” I remark. “He must be a good guy.”
“He is. And so is his wife, Sofie, the older woman.” He sweeps strands of his hair out of his eyes. “They’ve been talking about giving us the shop forever, but honestly, I didn’t really believe it was going to happen. I think because I’ve subconsciously gotten used to disappointment and naturally have a hard time believing good stuff will happen to me.”
“I actually understand where you’re coming from,” I say without any forethought, then instantly cringe.
Sometimes, I can be so open with Blaise that it’s frightening.
“I’m not surprised,” he tells me. “You and I are kind of similar in ways.”
My natural instinct is to argue, but I know he’s right, so … “Yeah, I guess we sort of are.”
His lips threaten to turn upward. “Did you just agree with me?”
“Maybe.” I restrain a smile. “I do have one more question, though … about how Jay quit working for your dad.”
His brows pull together. “I’m not sure what you’re getting at.”
“Well, it’s just that, from what you’ve told me about your dad”—and from what his dad told me personally—“it doesn’t seem like you can just quit working for him without any repercussions.”
That sparkle that was in his eyes dims. “You’re eerily accurate about that.”
“So then, how did he do it?”
“Honestly, I’m not sure, but I think him moving away might have had something to do with it.”
“You think his punishment for quitting was moving away from Honeyton?” No, it couldn’t be that easy.
He shakes his head. “No, I think he left to endure his punishment where no one he knew would have to see.”
I gulp. “But he returned to Honeyton eventually and is okay now, right?”
He shrugs stiffly. “It’s hard to say for sure. Some people are really good at pretending to be okay when things are far from it.”
It’s like he’s reading my soul aloud.
It’s damn near terrifying.
“We should go back inside. They’re probably wondering where we are,” he says distractedly, staring off into La La Land.
I nod then follow him inside, rattled, unnerved, and worst of all, scared. Usually, I’m way better at keeping my fear under control. Or at least pretending not to be afraid.
Pretending to be okay.
I’ve been pretending for so long that I’m starting to question if I’ll ever be able to stop and feel freely for once. Part of me wishes that possibility was plausible, but the other part of me is terrified of what’s hidden inside me.
Hadley
I remain fairly quiet for the rest of lunch. Like Scarlett promised, the food is delicious, but sitting around the table with the seven of them, listening to them reminisce and laugh, makes me miss my sisters big time. By the time it’s time to return to school, I’m tired and miserable and in no mood to joke around and laugh with Scarlett. Thankfully, she decides to skip out on the rest of school and help Sofie with some sort of super-secret project.
“Are you sure you don’t want to stay with me?” she asks as we cross the bar, heading for the back door. “We’re going to have a lot of fun, and Sofie is going to teach me how to ride a dirt bike.”
“That does sound awesome,” I answer truthfully. “But I’ve missed a lot of school already and I’m trying to get my shit together so …” I shrug. “Sorry.”
She struggles not to frown. “Maybe another time?”
“Oh, totally,” I promise her as I dig my car keys from my pocket. “In fact, one of these weekends, you should come over to my house and hang out with my sisters and me.” That is, if I ever get them back.
Don’t fucking lose your shit now.
“That sounds fun.” A smile illuminates her face. “You know, I’ve always wondered what it’d be like to have sisters instead of a bunch of brothers. It seems like it’d be a lot less smelly and loud.”
“We’re definitely less smelly for sure, but my sisters and I are loudmouths.”
“Yeah, I knew that the moment I met you.” She teasingly smiles as we reach the door. “I’ll see you at school tomorrow.”
“Yep.” I wave. Then, noting I have approximately five minutes to get back to school before the late bell rings, I rush outside to my car.
Not a whole lot of time left to get there, but if there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s getting places quickly. I just hope another damn sketchy cop doesn’t pull me over on the way.
I manage to get to school without getting a ticket and I’m on time. As an extra bonus, I make it all the way through school without missing any classes. A first for me since we moved to Honeyton so, yeah, go me!
All celebrations aside, a gloomy cloud is hovering over my head as I stop by my locker to grab the books I need to complete tonight’s homework. My mind is stuck in Worrying About My Sisters Land, a cloudy and stormy place to reside. But I can’t leave—can’t stop thinking about them—until I talk to them, find out if they’re okay, and get them back home. But, where is home exactly? At the house I currently can’t go to without running into, as Mr. Porterson put it, an “entrepreneur.” Or well, that is if Axel views his job the same way as Mr. Porterson.
“Man, I need to figure out a way to get him off my back,” I mumble as I stuff a book in my bag.
“Hey, you’re Hadley Harlyton, right?” A guy almost as pretty as Blaise props his shoulder against the locker beside mine, startling the crap out of me. As I work to regain my breath, he tries to dazzle me with a charming smile. “I think we have second period together.”
My guard instantly goes.
Pretty boys always put me on edge. And this guy is beyond pretty. I bet some might even say more so than Blaise, but I wouldn’t agree with them. Where Blaise’s all dark clothes, studs, and leather with a few piercings and, according to him, tattoos—although, I’ve never seen these alleged tattoos, so I’m still skeptical they exist—this guy’s all wrinkle-free, button-down shirts, slacks, and … yep, just like I guessed, freakin’ shiny-ass shoes.
Seriously, you can never trust people with shiny shoes.
I shrug, grabbing my English textbook from the top shelf of my locker. “If you say so, then I guess I’ll take your word for it, but honestly, I have no clue who you are.”
“Ouch, that hurt.” He presses his palm to his chest, his grin broadening, a dimple in his cheek appearing. “You’re ruthless.”
“That wasn’t ruthless. That was mildly cruel.” I sling the handle of my bag over my shoulder and slam my locker, preparing to leave.
He hurriedly straightens and walks beside me as I start down the crowded hallway. “Well, ruthless or not, you still haven’t answered my question.”
“What question?” I ask distractedly as I check my messages.
No new messages. Dammit, I was hoping Blaise would have some info about my sisters by now.
“Your name’s Hadley Harlyton, right?” His interest in my name puts me even more on edge.
/> “Actually, it’s Belinda.” I use the alias I gave a couple of guys I met at the trailer that Blaise and I picked Alex up from.
His eyes dance with amusement. “All right, I’ll play along. Belinda what?”
“Belinda, My Last Name is None of Your Pretty Boy Business So Please Turn Your Shiny Shoes Around And Leave Me Alone Dude.”
Instead of getting offended, he appears quite the opposite—completely entertained.
“That’s quite the last name,” he muses, rubbing his jawline. “But I think you might be lying to me, Belinda.”
I shrug as we reach the end of the hallway. “Believe whatever you want.” I start to push the door open when he folds his fingers tightly around my injured wrist. “Hey, back the hell off,” I warn, jerking my arm.
His grip constricts. “Maybe before you start smarting off, I should introduce myself.” His tone is eerily calm and emotionless. “I’m Austin Maeiriellie.”
Austin … Why does that name sound familiar?
My head throbs as I try to figure out the answer. I’m not certain where the pain is coming from, either from the potential concussion I had, lack of sleep, or the ass load of stress raining down on me.
I really need to get some sleep.
“Thanks for introducing yourself.” My voice oozes with sugary sweetness. “Now, when I punch you in the face and knock you out, I’ll have a name to give the paramedics when they show up to haul your unconscious ass to the hospital.”
His lips twist into a delighted, wicked grin. “I think you and I are going to have some fun, aren’t we?” He squeezes my wrist until my eyes water. “But I should probably tell you who my father is before you start throwing punches and make a huge mistake.” He drags out a pause as my muscles ravel into tense knots, the dots slowly connecting. “I think you might know of him. Axel Maeiriellie, the man your father double-crossed.”
“Son of a bitch,” I grumble. “That’s why your name sounded familiar.” Blaise had warned me about him earlier today. Said Austin was straight-up crazy, which I can see.
“You’ve heard of me.” An arrogantly pleased smile stretches across his face.