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CHAPTER

SEVENTY-FOUR

REMI

“Are you two coming or what?” Sloane gripes in my ear as Cortland opens the passenger door of his truck for me.

I hop down, glancing in the cab. I see a rope there, rolled up tight and I shake my head as he shuts his door.

“What’s that for?” I mouth to him, covering the speaker of my phone with my hand.

He shrugs, giving me a small smile before he tugs me into Thrifty’s. “Country boys have rope in their truck,” he says with a laugh.

I roll my eyes as the doors swing closed behind us, a little bell chiming in the store announcing our arrival. Then I smile up at him as he wraps his arm around my shoulder and pulls me closer.

“Yeah,” I tell Sloane in the phone, “we’re coming, just had to make a pitstop. Cort said there’s a carseat he wants here.”

Sloane sighs. “Put it on the baby registry, we’ll get it for you. Besides, Van is gonna eat all the food. He’s high.”

I laugh, shaking my head. A Friendsgiving dinner in the dorm sounded fun since I’m moving out at the end of the semester to live with Cortland, but now, well, it seems like it could be a disaster.

“Brinklin looks like someone shit in his turkey and Storm appears to be contemplating burning down the fucking dorm and we’ve already went through that once,” Sloane mutters in the phone. But I don’t miss the note of interest in her voice.

She dumped Asa.

Apparently, he was too close to his stepsister.

Nice boys do bad things.

I grin over at Cortland as he pulls me along to the rows of used books. And sometimes they make it up to you.

He drops my hand and plucks up a book with a haunted house on the cover.

My smile widens. I turn away from him, heading one aisle over, scanning the shelves.

“We’ll be there soon, I?—”

“Remi?” A cold voice interrupts me, and a chill slides down my spine.

“I have to go,” I whisper into the phone, whirling around as Cortland disappears further down the aisle I left him on, inspecting all the books on the shelves.

“Hurry up,” Sloane says, but I’m already ending the call.

Fear lights through me as I turn.

And my stepdad’s dark eyes hold mine.

I swallow, my mouth going dry.

He’s in a suit and tie, hands in his pockets, a faint smirk pulling at his lips as he stares at me.

“Why are you here?” I blurt out, glancing around the thrift store. He wouldn’t be caught fucking dead in a place like this. Not willingly.

His smile widens. “I finally sold the house you drove us out of.” He glances over his shoulder, at the row of windows lining the front door. “Saw you in here.” He shrugs. “Anyway, any of your belongings you left in the old house have transferred to the new owners.”

My stomach twists into knots.

I fist my hands at my sides. “I took all my shit out, but thanks for letting me know.” In my head, I feel his hands on me. His breath against my skin.

I see that glass shattering at his feet.

He steps closer.

I smell his cologne.

“You always were such a fucking brat,” he says, his voice low, but his tone is pleasant. Almost conversational. Like he just can’t wait to tear me down again. “You know, I heard Greg McGowan’s son was found hanging from the back of his closet.”

My eyes almost bug out of my head.

I think about the rope in the back of Cortland’s truck.

My stomach drops.

Silas steps closer. “I heard you were in the hospital recently.” Another step, and I can feel my pulse pounding in my temple. “It’s a shame it was Chase that died, and not?—”

Before he can finish his sentence, he’s yanked away from me, and I step backward.

Cortland has his fist cocked back, my stepdad’s tie wrapped around his other hand as he shoves him up against a row of books, some spilling onto the floor in a heap.

I try to breathe, my hand coming to my belly. I open my mouth to say something, anything , but before I can get the words out, Cortland has already launched his fist into Silas’s face.

I hear the crack of something that sounds like bone.

Blood spurts down Silas’s nose.

He lifts his hand to cover his mouth.

“You piece of fucking shit,” Cortland snarls.

I can’t speak. I just watch as Cortland’s fingers go to Silas’s tie, blood pouring over his mouth as he coughs, trying to sputter something between his fingers over his nose and mouth, but nothing comes out.

I don’t know what Cortland’s doing, and I see blood drip onto the white floor.

I glance over my shoulder, looking for anyone. Employees, customers. But no one is there.

Love feels like dying.

I look back at my stepdad, and think about the times he made me think I wanted to die.

That’s not love.

But Cortland, right now, wrapping Silas’s tie around his own throat and pulling hard… that is.

Cortland dips his head, glaring down at my stepdad as he coughs, fear in his dark eyes, his hands still over his face.

“You heard about Chase, huh?” Cortland growls.

Something sick like butterflies erupts in my stomach.

“You ever talk to my girl again,” Cortland pulls the tie tighter, and Silas’s fingers are scrambling at the material as he tries to breathe. “I’ll make sure you hang, too.”