Page 11 of Burning Demons (Burning Torments #1)

Chapter 11

Tate

Wren emerged from his day of avoiding me with a new attitude I was totally on board with. True to what I’d heard before: confidence was sexy. Which created a huge problem.

I had told myself that letting these feelings for Wren deepen was a bad idea all around. Not only was I conflicted about how I had left things in New York, but everything down here was going really well. Dad and I picked up right where we left off, as if it hadn’t been years since the last time I’d visited him. I didn’t have the best experiences with women, but I tried, and Winnie tried too. She was nice and welcoming, and things with her were better than I anticipated.

Once I had cooled off and thought of that moment in the pool, I realized my anger at Winnie had been more about my own experiences than what was going on. Winnie wasn’t the type to take advantage of her son’s fears. She wasn’t filming him to be a bitch and more than likely wanted to show Dad just as she’d said. Not all parents were scheming assholes as Mother and Franklin were. No, Dad and Winnie were awesome.

So, yeah, quietly falling for Wren? Horrible idea and a great way to fuck up all this family bliss I had cultivated over my few weeks of living here. But try to tell that to my emotions, my hormones, and my stupidly hopeful heart.

July moved into August. The new school year grew closer, and Dad finally asked why I hadn’t finished my senior year last May. I had tried to brush it off the times he brought it up, but he wasn’t letting it go anymore and had what Winnie later called a come to Jesus moment with me about it.

“Look, Tate,” he had said with a hint of how pissed he was darkening his tone. “You wanna tell me why you dropped out, or do I need to go back on my word and call your momma an’ ask her?”

When put like that, he backed me into a corner. For one, I had no clue how Mother would answer that—if she even remembered—and secondly, I couldn’t let my own mess cause Dad to break his word. But the truth was ugly. The truth would open questions I wasn’t ready to face or find answers to.

“I just, I got mad one day,” I had lied. “My teachers were idiots, and I got in an argument with one. I left and didn’t go back.” The story came out of nowhere and took on a life real enough I almost believed it. “Mother and-and my s-stepfather were too busy to deal with it. They said I could get my GED when I felt like it.”

Reality was never so clean. In truth, I didn’t go one Monday because of a love bite Franklin had left higher than normal, one that the collar of my shirt couldn’t hide. Too many times, I had worn a bandage to cover the top edge of one red mark or another. It had been something my classmates teased me over one too many times, and I hadn’t wanted to do it yet again.

The school had called Mother, who answered with her usual indifference when it came to me. I had told her I wasn’t going back, just to see what would happen, and she left it at that. She hadn’t cared. Weeks later, Franklin asked me about it, saying the school had contacted him when they couldn’t reach Mother to give her details about the GED.

I never wanted to remember the things Franklin had said to me that night, how he had teased me about being a kept thing, forever needing him. Honestly, it had been enough to make me go back to school, but I had missed so much by then. That was also around the time I found out about Mother’s and Franklin’s agreement, that I really had been a thing , a pet whose ownership they had negotiated between them.

So forgive the shit out of me if I hadn’t handled things well for a few weeks and missed my chance at finishing school last year.

“That ain’t gonna fly,” Dad had said in answer to my story. “If you plan on livin’ under this roof, and I want you to, I do, but you’re gonna have to finish school. Wren’s a senior this year. Y’all can finish out together.”

And that had been that. Winnie took me to the school’s office one morning and got me enrolled. The process was pretty easy because, being a teacher herself, she knew exactly what to do and say.

Based on my transcripts they pulled from my previous private school, I was set up for a ton of advanced classes. I said yes, ma’am to whatever, secretly giddy over the fact they were taking the time to make me do this. I didn’t want to be a high school dropout, and no one had ever presented it to me like that before. No one had shown an interest in making sure I completed anything .

After that, life in Alabama resumed its lazy crawl.

The unknown number I had yet to name in my contacts had sent several more messages. I thought once about blocking it, but he would just get a burner phone. I never responded, but that didn’t stop him or the nightmares they gave me.

Unknown number: Get this defiance out of your system and come home .

Unknown number: Ignoring me won’t stop this . We are inevitable .

Unknown number: Enjoy this freedom while it lasts .

Each text whispered in my ear as if he stood at my shoulder. As if he touched me through the distance and wrapped an unyielding hand around my throat. No matter the message, no matter the days that passed, I still had no clue what to do with—that. How was I supposed to force closure with a psycho except through distance?

The night I learned how grotesque and mishappen our relationship had been still stung in my mind. For too long, I had chosen to see Franklin’s possessiveness as a good thing, like a love-blinded fool. He cared so much he wanted me all to himself. He was my best friend. He was my comfort. And I was his world.

Lies. Nothing but lies.

Franklin didn’t see me as partner, a lover. I was his possession. His pet. I was his property. A fact he was all too proud of by the tone in his voice when he discussed my future, a future he apparently wasn’t going to give me any say in. But given all that, Mother’s betrayal cut deeper.

I didn’t know why. I had never harbored any false hope that she loved me and just had a hard time showing it. Yet as she stood there in Franklin’s study and negotiated the last terms of their marriage , a marriage that would come to an end sometime after my birthday, I found out exactly how much she hated me. How much I was worth to her.

Franklin might have been a psychopath, but Mother was a monster.

As much as possible, I pushed what I left behind out of my mind and flowed with time. Every day increased the growing familiarity with my new home until I didn’t feel so out of place. I wasn’t the lone bent post in the white picket fence anymore.

Once I shared my number with Wren, and after he got his head out of his ass, he sent me cat reels, of course, and funny jokes. He asked me once about social media accounts, but I didn’t have any. I refused to get any. I didn’t want to be found. Yeah, Franklin had my number and knew where I was, but I couldn’t help that now and wasn’t about to offer him glimpses of my life here he could distort.

The Saturday before school started, I woke covered in sweat with the screams of a nightmare fading in my ears. The house was quiet. Wren’s room was empty, which meant he was probably on a morning run or workout with the firefighter guy. The back-to-school party was tonight. Wren wasn’t too excited for it but promised his mother he’d take me and introduce me to our classmates.

I pulled myself from bed and gathered my sheets to wash. Chores probably weren’t fun to many teenagers, but I liked the accountability of it. I liked doing things for myself. After a shower, I shuffled to the laundry room, then headed for the kitchen.

Dad sat at the table, coffee in hand as he scrolled on his phone. Winnie stood at the stove, making breakfast. The scene was rather quaint and pure. Much too wholesome for any lingering negative thoughts, so I let them drift away to be replaced with the scents of whatever Winnie was cooking.

“Hey, Tate,” Winnie said in her chipper tone.

“What’s that you’re making?” I asked.

“Buttermilk pancakes. You like them?”

Pancakes, sure, but … “Buttermilk?” Yuck. Not that I had had any, but it sounded gross.

Winnie chuckled. “Oh, it’s good. You’ll try some, won’t you?”

“Yes, ma’am?”

Winnie chuckled again, and after a silent moment with me watching intently, she said, “You interested in cooking?”

I shrugged. “Maybe. I never had a chance to learn before.”

“Ha. That’s more than Wren ever said about it. Here, you wanna flip one?”

I rubbed my palms on my jeans, suddenly very unsure about all this. “Um, okay.”

Dad snorted behind us. “I can teach you all about grilling if you want.”

“That requires the outdoors,” I said. “I’m more of an indoor, non-melty sort.”

“Bah.” Dad waved a hand and refocused on his phone. “Can’t get Wren interested in it either,” he muttered.

“Here, hon.” Winnie handed over the spatula with a heap of responsibility.

“What if I mess it up?”

“You won’t.” Winnie pointed at one of the pancakes. “This one is ready. Just slide the edge under and flip it over.” She made the gesture with her hand, and I nearly asked her to do it again so I could pay more attention.

The spatula eased right under it, but the flipping, eh, not so great.

“Fuck,” I breathed as batter splattered and smeared across the pan, hitting another pancake beside it. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine. It’ll eat all the same.”

I handed the spatula back and took a huge step away from the stove.

Dad smiled at the two of us. “Better than I would’ve done.”

“Is there any more coffee?” I asked.

Dad gestured at the coffeepot. “Help yourself.”

I pulled a mug down from the cabinet over the pot and marveled at how easy all this was. Our kitchen back home had been off-limits for the most part. Here, everything was comfortable. I didn’t have to open every cabinet to find what I was after. There weren’t that many to choose from, but the placement of things made sense.

Dad and Winnie’s house was clean and well maintained, and it didn’t take an army of maids or cooks directed by my sloshed mother to achieve it.

Coffee in hand, I sat down at the table and waited for the food. By the time it was ready, Wren was back, sweating and heaving.

“Shower,” he breathed as he toed out of his shoes at the back door. He kissed his mother’s cheek, then winked at me as he hurried out of the kitchen.

Winked .

Holy shit. I’d done it to be funny, to get a rise out of him. Wren made me fifty shades of blush with the gesture because I’d apparently found myself deeper in this flirting business than I imagined. My solid convictions of keeping him at arm’s length got weaker, and Wren got sexier every day. Okay, those two things were probably linked. The point being, I needed to make up my mind quickly. Somewhere in the last few weeks, a fuse had been lit. The barrel of fireworks had yet to be moved out of reach, and that little spark was getting dangerously close.

Did I let this go on?

The right answer was no.

So why was a resounding yes echoing through my mind?

Wren parked in a large flat area with dozens of other cars and trucks, and we walked toward the brightly lit house. With every step, he got more and more tense. By the time we reached the porch, his shoulders were up around his ears.

“You good?” I asked.

“Hate parties,” he mumbled.

No shit.

A wide porch sat barely off the ground, spanning the house and floor-to-ceiling windows. Dozens of people inside were lit by the low glow of lights, and some swayed to the thumping music.

“Wren!” a voice called as soon as he’d opened the front door.

A girl around our age ran over to us but screeched to a halt when she saw me. She was tiny, and her big brown eyes were wide as she blinked. The knot of blonde hair on her head was artfully messy and totally worked for her. Her tight tank top revealed the strings of a bathing suit, and her shorts barely covered her ass.

She was adorable.

That was until Wren pulled her in for a hug. Who the fuck was this?

“Sienna, this is Tate.”

Ah. The BFF. The one Winnie was convinced was only a BFF.

Sienna blinked a few times between Wren and me, and then her red lips twisted into a grin. “Hey, Tate. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“And that was not at all ominous,” I said.

She threaded an arm through one of mine and squinted at me. “Hmm, I think we’ve got a lot of talkin’ to do.”

Wren dropped his big hand on top of her head and turned her with it. “What are you doin’?”

“Nothin’, Wren, just gettin’ to know your stepbrother .” She ducked and sidestepped his hand, then pulled me deeper into the house. “Come on, Tate. Let’s get you a drink.”

I followed along with a smile.

Heads that weren’t shoved together, making out in dark corners, lifted all around us as we made our way to the kitchen, where bottles lined the counters. From a lifetime of practice, I watched everyone watch me without hinting that I noticed. Their gazes were like touches. Hot and sweaty touches that I absolutely hated, but no one could fake it better than me.

“You’re the one who took the photos at the cemetery?” I asked Sienna when we stopped to scan the selection of liquor and mixers.

“He showed you?” She beamed.

“Yeah,” I lied. Wren had closed the screen as soon as he saw me looking at them. “Good stuff. You’ve got a good eye.”

“Thanks. And yeah, I do. I hope to make it a career one day. You actually just gave me an idea.”

“That quick?” I stretched to my full height and rubbed my stomach, using the chance to glance around for Wren, who wasn’t in eyeshot. “Damn, I’m good.”

She giggled and slapped me without a drop of force behind it.

“What’s this idea?” I leaned my forearms on the counter, which put me a little closer to her as she poured Coke out of a two-liter into Solo cups.

“Nope. Drink first. What’s your poison?”

“Don’t get him shit-faced. If Sam doesn’t kill me for getting him drunk at his first party, then Momma will.”

I lifted my head, planning on scowling, but Wren was already scowling at us from across the island, so I winked instead. I was rewarded for my efforts when the tips of his ears turned red.

That’s right, two can play this game .

“You don’t own me, Big Country.” Yet nearly slipped out of my mouth, but I reeled it back. Feeding whatever was going on between us was very bad. For now, I’d blame it on the pheromones of a hundred hormonal teenagers jumping around us like porn thumbnails waiting to be clicked.

Wren hooked a brow. What I wouldn’t have given to have read his mind right now.

Sienna barked out a laugh, oblivious to the heat ticking higher in the room. “Big Country? Oh my gosh, that’s perfect.”

“Don’t start,” Wren growled.

Sienna was impervious to his gruffness and handed out Jell-O shots. I got a green one. For my eyes, she said. She and Wren got blue ones because brown Jell-O would be nasty. I kept my gaze on Wren—to be fair, his was on me too—and downed the shot.

Sienna’s wide gaze did that blinky back-and-forth thing again, and then she handed me the Coke she’d poured. “Okay. I’m doin’ a calendar this year.”

“You say that every year.” Wren cocked his head and crossed his arms over his chest. His biceps swelled, and his lips pinched. I had seen buff guys before. However, I would swear they just grew boys bigger down here, and I was not complaining.

“Yeah, but I mean it this time. Tate, you’ll model for me, right?”

Wren grabbed a beer out of an ice-filled bucket. “He probably will. Someone told him he was pretty.” He smirked at me, pinched Sienna’s side, and walked to the sliding glass door that let out onto a back patio. Wren locked eyes with me until the door closed, and the glare of lights turned the glass into a mirror.

“Ain’t he just so sweet?” Sienna stared after Wren, then turned a serious expression to me. Her syrupy charm fell hard and fast like blocks of ice at my feet. “Wren’s been my best friend since we found out what friends were.”

“Yeah?” Was this going to be the best friend warning?

“Yeah. I read people pretty well, you know? Maybe it’s a photographer’s eye thing.” She shrugged. “Wren’s the best person I know. He’s loyal and trustworthy, and he’s got everyone’s back but his own. You? It’s too early to tell, but Wren likes you, so we’ll go with that for now.”

She crooked her finger at me to get on her level. When I did, she put her small hand on my shoulder.

“Hurt him and I’ll peel the skin off your balls and dip them in salt, pretty boy.” Sienna pulled back with that sugary smile in place and a coy flutter of her lashes.

Shit. This chick was scary. Not just in the surprise punch from a small package but how she nailed it right off that something was brewing here. Shock stole my words for a few seconds, and I didn’t get a chance to respond before a bare-chested dude growled from behind her shoulder.

“Who’s this?” A punk with dark red hair, the number nine painted on his ripped torso, and a lethal glare in his eyes stood close enough to Sienna the implication was loud and clear.

Go ahead and piss on her. She’s yours, I get it .

“Alex, meet Tate. This is Wren’s stepbrother.”

Alex did the classic up nod. “Sup.”

“Hey.” I didn’t give one in return.

Alex pulled Sienna’s head back by the knot on her head. “Where’s Wren?”

“Probably outside in the dark.”

He let go of her hair and patted her head.

“Your boyfriend?” I asked when Alex had walked off.

She turned and shrugged. Alex stepped outside, and as I scanned for a sight of Wren, I caught all the other shirtless guys walking around with numbers on their chests.

“No,” she finally said. But maybe she wanted him to be?

“What’s he to Wren?” I asked.

Sienna pivoted back around and immediately cocked her head. “Not his boyfriend either.”

I smiled at her, and she laughed.

“I may not know all your angles yet, but we might become friends, Tate.”

Several girls rushed around us, accidentally-on-purpose stumbling into me.

“Sienna, who’s your friend?”

As soon as was politely possible, I left the squealing girls and met back up with Wren outside. He leaned in closer than I figured he would in public. The music was loud, so that was why, right?

“You survived,” he whispered.

The only thing keeping me from shivering as his breath tickled over my ear was the slight buzz I had from the drinks Sienna forced on me.

I turned my head, putting our faces so close I could put my cheek to his. “Barely. My balls are still tingling from Sienna’s threat.”

He chuckled. A handsome blush bloomed on his cheeks, but it didn’t stop him from adding. “That all that’s got your balls tingling?”

The fuck?

I shoved his shoulder. “What’s in that cup, Country Boy?”

He tipped it toward me enough I could see inside. “Coke.”

Okay. The fuck, for real. He said that without a buzz?

The night was filled with introductions I would never remember. Sienna was a cheerleader. Figured with her cute and bubbly factor. The shirtless guys were on the football team, which included Cody, the host. I didn’t accept any more drinks and only sipped water after Wren’s step off into super ballsy. I needed all my wits for this guy.

Beer pong was played, as was spin the bottle. Cringy. A fight broke out on the deck that lasted until a planter was knocked over. Cody about lost his shit, but he was given a bottle of Jack, which seemed to pacify him. Ahh, Hickory Bend High seniors. Best of the best right here.

Not all of the football team gave asshole vibes as Alex had. Wren introduced me to Cal and Michael, who were juniors this year but invited due to being on the team. Michael had a little shadow in the form of his gothic brother, Jamie. Neither of them said much, and with Michael’s perma-scowl matching Jamie’s darkness, they made me think of crows sitting on fence posts, watching life play out.

Wren snagged my attention and nodded to the far side of the pool, where lounge chairs sat empty and waiting. We got comfortable and became spectators to a chicken fight between girls in the pool.

One finally tipped the other set over to chants of “Emily. Emily. Emily.”

Wren laughed, and I clenched my jaw.

“You like her?” I gritted out.

“Emily?” He turned to me, and a little lower, he asked, “Jealous?”

Yes, but I wasn’t ready to admit that. “She doesn’t seem your type.” I took a drink from my water bottle to drown anything else I might have said just then.

“Hmm. My type.”

I glared at him. He knew damn well what I meant. At least, he better know. With all the winks and flirting, I couldn’t be reading this wrong, right? I didn’t like doubt. I didn’t like not knowing shit was a done deal. I’d never had to find my way around these sorts of things before. Even if he hadn’t been entirely honest with me, I never had to guess at Franklin’s affections, distorted as they might have been.

I pulled a new pack of cigarettes from my pocket and angrily ripped them open. Fuck this.

“Where are you getting those from?” he asked as I sucked in the first pull of sanity.

“Why?”

“I dunno, just asking.”

I turned at his defeated tone and forced myself to lighten up. My failings weren’t his fault. “You ever smoked?”

“No.”

“Not even weed? Don’t you country boys like to grow shit?”

That made him laugh, which was my intent. I didn’t like the unknown, the questions that had no answers, but I hated him being down even more.

“You’re a dick,” he said through a chuckle.

“Right back at ya.”

We sat quietly for a while, sipping our rated-E-for-everyone drinks as the party mellowed with us.

“You ready to go?” he finally asked.

“I think I was ready to go when we got here.”

Wren slapped the arms of his lounger. “Then what the fuck are we doing here?”

“Don’t ask me. I’m the new kid.”

He stood, and before I could follow on my own, he grabbed me and yanked me to my feet. His hand lingered on mine. Heat and lightning surged up my arm and danced in his eyes.

“Come on. Let’s go.” Four words, spoken calmly, softly, trailed over my lips as if he kissed me with them.

All in all, it probably hadn’t been more than a few seconds that his hand was on mine, that his words and gaze hugged around me. Seconds was all I needed. He let go of my hand—that was normal, expected, so why did I memorize how his fingertips skimmed each of mine before they parted?

Dangerous? That hardly mattered now. I was in too deep for any more warnings.