My bloodshot eyes stare back at me. They’re eyes I’ve seen countless times, yet they somehow look different now. More haunted.
What exactly happened to me during those blank days following my mother’s death?
I need to figure that out. Figure out the truth. But the only person who may have the answers is the very person who put these bruises all over my face. And I have a feeling that finding my dad may not only be dangerous, but will also be very difficult. Because if there’s one thing my dad’s good at, it’s hiding from his problems.
Blaise
“You should go up there and check on her,” Rhyland says as he grabs a box of granola bars from the cupboard.
I tear my eyes off the stairway and shovel up the last spoonful of cereal into my mouth. “Go up and talk to who?” I play dumb. I don’t even know why. It’s not like we have more than one her in the house.
He rolls his eyes as he digs out a couple of granola bars from the box. “You know who I’m talking about.
“Hadley?” I question.
He rolls his eyes again. “Yes, Hadley. And don’t try to pretend you don’t want to go up there and see if she’s okay. You’ve been staring at the damn stairs for the last fifteen minutes.”
“I’m just wondering what’s taking Jaxon and Alex so long,” I lie, flipping on the faucet to rinse out my bowl.
“Sure you were.” He tears open a wrapper on a granola bar.
I sigh. “Fine, I was thinking about going up there, but only to see if she wants some painkillers or an icepack for her face.” I shut the water off and set the bowl in the sink. “She may have said it didn’t hurt, but I doubt she was telling the truth.”
“I know.” He takes a bite of the granola bar. “It looks painful as hell. Almost as bad as that time Dad…” He trails off, smashing his lips together, his worried gaze traveling to me.
“I know.” I sound like a fucking emotionless zombie, but I usually do whenever I talk about our dad or our past.
We haven’t really lived with him for years, but before he signed over guardianship to me, he’d show up at the house all the time. Not to visit his sons. No, the main reason he came over was either to fuck Rhyland and Alex’s mom when she was still around, or to hide drugs, guns, and whatever the hell else he was dabbling in at the time. He basically used the attic as his own personal storage space, despite all of our protests. We didn’t protest frequently, though, because that typical led to swollen, bruised faces and the occasional broken bone.
“I’m still worried she might have a concussion.” I redirect the subject back to Hadley because it’s better than talking about our dad. I mean, it’s not like I don’t want to talk about Hadley. It just feels like I’m already worrying about her too much. And I have other stuff I need to be focusing on. Like figuring out what to do with Alex’s drug addiction.
He looked like shit today, strung out and pissed off. While he’s getting ready for school, I wouldn’t put it past him to ditch to go out to that fucking trailer again and get high.
“Is she planning on going to school?” Rhyland shoves the rest of the granola bar into his mouth then tosses the wrapper into the trash can.
“I have no idea… She probably should stay home and get some rest, but I’m not sure she should be alone right now. And since I missed school yesterday, I can’t stay home and keep an eye on her.”
His brows crinkle. “Why would you need to stay here and keep an eye on her? She’s eighteen years old man.”
I shrug. “Because of the concussion.” But that’s only the partial truth.
I’m also worried that Mel—Hadley’s father—will show up. Or worse, some of Axel’s men or my father’s will be looking for Mel, and instead, they’ll find Mel’s daughter all alone. Last night, a car was parked out in the street for quite a while. I’m not sure if it belonged to Axel or my father, but both men are equally as bad. If my theory about Mel getting busted working for both Axel and my dad is correct, then the Harlyton sisters might unknowingly be in some serious trouble.
“No, there’s more to it than that,” he accuses, eyeing me closely. “I can tell when you’re full of shit.”
I rake my fingers through my hair. “Yeah, you’re right, but I really don’t want to get into it until I can find out a few things.”
“Things that have to do with Hadley?”
“Yeah… Or well, her dad.”
“What has to do with my dad?” Hadley asks as she steps down the last of the stairs and enters the kitchen.
She has a backpack on, her long brown hair is swept to the side in a sexy mess of waves, and the torn jeans she’s wearing are tight enough to show off her long, lean legs. I think she’s also put on some makeup, because the bruises on her cheek and hairline are fainter.
“How’s your face feeling?” I ask as she crosses the kitchen toward me.
“I already told you earlier it didn’t hurt that bad.” She crosses her arms as she stops in front of me, close enough that I can see the blue and purple bruises underneath the makeup. “You didn’t answer my question, though. And I’m going to pretend like it was completely accidental even though I know it wasn’t.”
She’s right. I did try to change the subject on purpose but only because I want to find out for sure if my theory about her dad is correct before I have to dump that mess of worry on her.
“I was just wondering if your dad’s been in contact with my dad,” I say with a half-shrug.
“Why?” Her interrogating gaze flicks between Rhyland and me.
“So maybe we’d have an idea of where he is,” I explain. “And then we wouldn’t have to worry about him just showing up.”
“You know, I think you might be lying to me, Blaise Porterson, but that’s okay.” She pats my arm. “I’ll break it out of you eventually.”
I roll my tongue in my mouth, fighting back a smile, something I seem to have to do a lot whenever I’m around her. “Okay.”
She puts her hands on her hips. “I’m being serious.”
My smile is really threatening to break through now. “And all I said was okay.”
“But you said it with doubt.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Yes, you did.”
I tug on a strand of her hair, my smile surfacing. “I hate to break this to you, stubborn girl, but just because you say something doesn’t make it true.”
“Um, yeah, it does. And the sooner you realize that, the better.” She takes a small step back, putting a bit of space between us and tucks her hair behind her ear.
I don’t want to take it personally, but I’m fairly sure the space is to keep me from touching her. I don’t want to be bothered by that, but I annoyingly am. I’m not even sure why. I’ve never cared before whether a girl likes me or not, and it’s not like I need or have time for a girlfriend right now. But I’m attracted to Hadley; have been since the day I first saw her and she told me to go fuck myself in a very colorful way. And that attraction only seems to grow the more I’m around her and the more she puts me in my place. Yep, confidence and toughness are what apparently turns me on. Well, that and the fact that she’s sexy as hell without even trying to be.
Of course, her interest in me seems to be hovering at about a negative one hundred. That might be my own damn fault, though, for acting like an asshole the first couple of weeks we’ve known each other.
“So, are all of you guys going to school today?” Hadley changes the subject, glancing from Rhyland to me.
Rhyland nods. “As far as I know, we are. “
I raise my voice and call toward the stairway, “We definitely are, just as soon as Alex and Jaxon stop primping and get their asses down here.”
“Will you chill out!” Alex shouts back. “Looking this fine takes time.”
Hadley snickers. “He sounds like Payton.” Her smile falters.
Pity fills Rhyland’s eyes. “Have you heard from any of your sisters?”
She shakes her head. “No. I trie
d to text them last night and this morning, but so far they haven’t replied.”
“Depending on who their caseworker is, they may have gotten their phones taken away,” I tell her apologetically. “To make sure your dad can’t get ahold of them.”
“Yeah, I figured that might be what’s going on.” She shifts her weight and scratches at her wrist, seeming uneasy. “You wouldn’t by chance know a way to get ahold of them, would you? Or maybe a way to find out if they’re going to the same school? I mean, if you don’t, it’s cool, but I thought I’d ask.” She examines her fingernails, pretending to be chill.
But I think she’s far from it.
“I actually do know someone who used to work for Social Services,” I say. “If you want, I can call her up and see if she can get some info about where they were taken.”
She casually nods, but relief washes over her features. “That’d be great. Thanks.”
“Give me just a second and I’ll call her.” I start toward the living room, retrieving my phone from my pocket.
“Wait. What’s the favor I’m supposed to be doing this morning?” she asks before I exit the room.
I dismiss her with a wave. “How about we skip today?”
Her eyes flash with irritation. “No way, dude. You’re not going to give me a pity skip.”
I rub my hand across my mouth to conceal my smile. Rhyland lets his grin slip through, though, and it irks me a bit, even though Hadley isn’t mine and he has every right to smile at her.
“Okay, give me a minute and I’ll think of something.” I turn to leave the room.
“And don’t you dare make it an easy favor,” she calls out. “I mean it.”
That damn smile I’ve been holding back all morning slips through. It’s been a while since I’ve smiled for real, either because I’m too stressed out to remember to or because the heaviness of the stress makes the simple act of turning my lips upright feel like the hardest thing to do in the world. I have to give Hadley some serious credit for getting me to smile. Hopefully, I can return the favor when I call up the lady who used to oversee mine and my brother’s cases during the times Social Services stepped in and dragged us out of our shitty home life. She’s retired now, but she might be able to help us out. At least, I hope so.
As I step into the living room to make the call, I’m reminded of another problem I need to deal with.
The damn car with the tinted windows is back, parked outside in the driveway of her house.
Hadley
“You should’ve just taken the freebie and not do a favor for Blaise today,” Rhyland remarks after Blaise leaves the kitchen. “Most people would’ve.”
“Most people don’t mind getting favors,” I say, adjusting the handle of my bag. “But in my experience, when someone does you a favor, it usually means they want a favor in return, so it wouldn’t even be a freebie because I’ll owe him.”
“Yeah, I get your point, I guess.” He tears open a granola bar and takes a bite. “But sometimes people do favors just to be nice and don’t expect anything in return.”
“And you can honestly say that’s what your brother was doing?”
He nods without hesitation. “Blaise is a nice guy, Hadley.” He breaks a chunk of the granola bar off and pops it into his mouth. “And I think if you’d look past his bad flirting skills and stupid need to protect his brothers all the time, you’d realize that.” He offers me a smile then heads toward the stairway. “Cut Blaise some slack, okay? I promise you won’t regret it.”
“And what if I do and regret it?” I challenge. “Then what?”
He spins back around, tilting his head to the side musingly. “I’ll tell you what. If you cut Blaise some slack and get to know him and end up regretting it, then you can kick me in the balls. You like doing that sort of stuff, right?”
“Maybe.” I chew on my bottom lip. “You know, gambling the wellbeing of your man goodies on whether or not me and your brother are going to get along seems like a big risk on your part.”
“I don’t think it’s that big of a gamble.”
“Are you sure about that? Because every time Blaise and I around each other, we argue.”
He grins. “Yeah, that’s not arguing, sweetheart.”
“Hey, watch it with that name,” I warn, pointing at him.
He surrenders his hands in front of him with an innocent smile. “Sorry, my bad. I completely forgot you hated it.”
“Sure, you did.” I scowl at him, but the corners of my lips twitch. “But seriously, Blaise and I argue, and if you had functioning eyes and ears, you’d know that.”
“You can call it arguing if it makes you feel better. But everyone who has functioning eyes and ears knows your little,” he makes air quotes, “ ‘arguments’ are your guys fucked up way of flirting.”
I glare at him. “That is so not true…” I trail off as he dazzles me with a smirk then bolts up the stairs. “Deal on, dude!” I shout after him. “So prepare your balls for some pain!”
Rhyland’s arrogant laughter is my only answer. Well, that and Alex saying, “What fucking kind of kinky shit are you guys doing?”
I consider chasing after Rhyland, but I’m not sure what I’d do when I caught him. Maybe put him in a headlock and make him retract his statement about Blaise and me flirting with each other.
Yeah, a headlock definitely seems like a deserving punishment.
“So, I have some good news and bad news,” Blaise announces as he wanders back into the kitchen.
I turn away from the stairs, making a mental note to somehow pay Rhyland back for his accusation. “What’s the bad news?”
He shoves his phone into the back pocket of his jeans. “Are you sure you don’t want to hear the good news first?”
“I always like to get the bad stuff out of the way. That way, I can focus on the good stuff.”
“Yeah, me too. Most people like it the other way around, though.”
“I know. Londyn, Bailey, and Payton are all totally that way.”
“Rhyland and Jaxon are too.” He slides his hands into his pocket. “Alex isn’t, though.”
“That doesn’t surprise me,” I say. Then remembering the wager I made with Rhyland, I decide to be nice and add, “I don’t mean that like in a rude way or anything. He just seems like a let’s cut straight to the bullshit sort of dude.”
“You’re trying not to be rude to a Porterson, huh?” Blaise rubs his jawline. “What brought that on?”
“Why I’m so glad you asked.” Feeling pretty pleased with myself, I lean against the counter. “While you were on the phone, Rhyland and I made a little wager.”
Wariness floods his expression. “Really?”
“Yep, we sure did.”
He grows silent, his wariness doubling.
“Aren’t you going to ask me what it is?”
“I’m a little afraid to,” he admits reluctantly.
“Don’t worry, it’s not that bad. Well, it will be for Rhyland if he loses, but not for you or me.”
“Okay.” He sinks into silence again.
“Oh, come on.” I stomp my foot. “Ask me what it is, or it’ll ruin my fun, dude.”
He smashes his lips together, his face red with silent laughter. “All right, stubborn girl, what deal did you make with my brother?”
And there he goes with that stubborn girl bullshit again, but I decide to let it slide this time.
Grinning, I hoist myself onto the counter and let my legs dangle over the edge. “Well, he suggested that if I cut you some slack and got to know you a bit better that I won’t regret.” I press my hand to my chest. “I, however, am a bit skeptical. No offense or anything, but we sort of clash.”
“Do we?” He gives me that really intense look that always makes me feel way out of my comfort zone, the one that makes me feel as if he knows all of my secrets.
But refusing to let that look ruin my fun, I keep on grinning. “Yeah, we really do.”
“Okay,?
?? he agrees, but the way he says feels like he’s only tolerating me. “So what happens if Rhyland is right and we do end up getting along?”
I shrug. “Then I get the awesome reward of not having to hand you your ass every time we’re around each other.”
“You say that like you don’t actually like handing me my ass.”
Shit, he has me there.
“Okay, maybe I do, but at least we can get along while I hand you your ass.”
A grin takes over his face, and I hate that I notice how stupidly pretty it is. “You know, you seem really obsessed with my ass.”
“Not your actual ass,” I clarify. “Just your assy attitude.”
“Is assy even a word?”
I give him a toothy smile. “It is in Hadley’s Awesome Dictionary of Made up Fan-freakin’-tastical Words, which is the only dictionary to live by. If you’re smart anyway.”
He presses his lips together so forcefully the skin around his mouth turns white.
“What? No comeback for that?” I tease. “That must mean that you completely agree with me and that you’ll be wanting a copy of my dictionary so you memorize and worship it.”
He lowers his head as his shoulders start to shake. I think he might be laughing at me, but trying to hide it.
“So odd,” he mutters before lifting his head. His eyes are a bit watery, his face flushed with laughter.
“You were laughing at me,” I accuse. “That’s not cool, man.”
“I was a little bit,” he admits. “But only because you’re so damn amusing.”
“So I’m damn amusing and odd. Gee, thanks.”
“Those are both good things.” He reaches out to tuck a strand of my hair behind my ear.
It’s the second time he’s touched my hair this morning. I don’t know why he’s so fascinated with it, especially when I haven’t washed it in a couple of days. Maybe that’s why. Perhaps he has a fetish for dirty hair. Whatever. To each their own, I guess. Where the real problem lies is how my heart reacts every time his fingers brush across my dirty strands of hair. The idiot must be broken or something, getting all fluttery over pretty boy’s fingers tugging and playing with my greasy hair. It’s stupid. I’m stupid. And I shouldn’t be getting fluttery at all right now.