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I keep going, keep moving. “I guess that’s why our parents opted for no alarms on our windows,” I explain. “They wanted us to have each other if we were ever afraid to talk to them. This tree is family. It’ll never die. But you will, kid. And probably young, too.”

Because you do stupid things.

She stops, and the light from my porch just reaches her midnight eyes.

“Don’t you want to enjoy a little more freedom first?” I tease.

Before you inevitably get arrested.

But she’s not smiling. Her gaze hardens. “Freedom?” she whispers. “What is that?”

Her eyes shimmer, and I realize they’re wet. I go still.

“Is freedom having no responsibilities? No job?” she asks me. “Or a job that pays enough to feed and shelter you for longer than just today?”

Chills spread all over my body, and I open my mouth to reply, but I don’t know what to say.

“I’m not a kid.” She snickers like I’m so naïve. “You are.”

And she spins, yanking up my bedroom window and diving inside.

I chase after her, climbing into my room and racing through my door as she thunders down the stairs and into the foyer of my parents’ house.

I come up on her tail, just as she’s about to reach the front door, and catch her, both of us crashing into the wall.

She growls, whipping around to get out of my hold, but she pulls too hard, and we both tumble to the floor. Pain shoots through my elbow, and she flips over onto all fours, scrambling to her feet. But I grab the hood of her jacket and yank her back down, coming down on top to straddle her.

Ah!” she yells, her arms flying out, trying to hit me.

I grab her bag and pull it off her, tossing it to the side before I pin her hands above her head and glare down.

She opens her mouth, but she doesn’t say anything. Just fixes a snarl on her face and glowers back up at me. I almost smile, liking the nice, hot shot of adrenaline running through my chest. My dad on my back, Schuyler—it’s been weeks. I appreciate the distraction. I’m blowing off more steam than an afternoon at the gym.

I cock my head. “Need a ride home?”

She raises her chin, getting all tough, and I almost laugh. Her black eyes under long lashes promise pain and suffering if I don’t get off her, but it’s a good look on her.

“I’ll give you one, if you want,” I taunt. “My cousins will help. A whole escort of Pirates back to that shithole, Weston.”

I see her jaw clench, but still, she doesn’t spit any vitriol back at me. She’s used to not giving an inch. She’s used to people taking it.

I pat her coat, feeling a lump in one of the pockets. I dig inside, and she tries to fight me off with her one free hand. “Get off!” she shouts.

I pull out her wallet and flip it open. I read her driver’s license. “Aro Marquez. 686 East 3rd Street, Weston.” I close it and stuff it back into her jacket. “It’s up there forever now.” I gesture to my head and then pin her other hand back down. “Stay out of the Falls, or I will make trouble for you.” I lean down, and she tries to jerk her face away, but she has nowhere to go. “And I won’t even need my daddy or my credit card to do it.”

I know what their preconceived notions are about the Falls. We’re all spoiled trust fund babies to her, even though she’s lying on the floor of my house and can plainly see it’s not a mansion.

I roll to my feet and grab a fistful of her coat, pulling her up with me.

I stare down at her. “You shouldn’t have come alone, honey.”

But a honk sounds outside, and we hear shouts. “Aro!”

I look down at her. She smiles.

Oh, what the fuck?

She shoves me in the chest, and I stumble back, crashing into the entryway table. The dish of keys falls to the floor, shattering.

The next thing I know, the alarm screams in my ear, and I flinch, watching her run out the front door.

I follow, seeing cars in the street, headlights blinding me as I dig in after her and watch her legs disappear ahead.

“Hawke!” I hear Kade, his pounding footsteps approaching as Dirk and Stoli flank him.

I look over. “Where’s Dylan?”

“At the shop with the cops,” he says.

I’d texted him to get him over here, but I’d wanted to make sure Dylan wasn’t alone first.

A small group of people enter on my right, and I look over, seeing the girl, all tall and brave now that her boys are here.

I lock eyes with Hugo Navarre. He was a senior when I was a freshman. We never met on the field, but he’s stayed involved in the bullshit between our towns.