Page 28 of Quiet Rage (Wicked Falls Elite #5)

Tamson

The pillow under my cheek is moving. It’s warm, it’s smooth, and it’s moving.

And it’s…snoring a little?

My eyes pop open as if an explosion had rocked the house.

My heart is in my throat the way it would be if there was an explosion, too, only that’s not the problem this morning.

It’s from waking up to realize I rolled over at some point in the night and snuggled up against Kellen.

He’s still on his back, like he was when we fell asleep.

I’m the one who curled up with him and slept with my head on his shoulder and one arm thrown over his chest.

Indecision freezes me. Do I stay like this? Do I roll over? Do I pretend I’m still asleep?

Turns out it’s a little too late for that. “Good morning.” There’s soft laughter in his voice, rumbling in his chest.

At least he seems like he’s in a good mood. He didn’t shove me off him and tell me to get fucked or anything like that. I’ll take it as a good sign. “Good morning,” I mumble, peeling myself off of him. “Sorry if I drooled on you.”

“It wouldn’t be the worst thing I’ve ever had on me.” He looks down at his bare skin. “Looks okay.”

I would swear he is two different people.

The version I’m with now, the one I fell asleep with, has a sense of humor.

He’s warm, even patient. I wonder how a good doctor would diagnose him.

I wish I had the money to get it done, because I like being with him when he’s like this.

I can hardly believe it, but I kind of wish things could always be this way.

The problem with that, of course, is the way my heart sinks when he sits up with purpose. “I better go.”

He’s right, obviously. He can’t stick around.

There’s not even enough time to count all the reasons why.

“Sure,” I mumble. Pulling the blankets up under my arms, I scoot back until I’m sitting against the headboard while he gets dressed.

It’s a little awkward, but not in a bad way.

There’s nothing cold or distant about him. He’s just in a hurry to get going.

Once he’s finished putting on his shoes, sitting near the foot of the bed, he looks at me over his shoulder. He even looks different this morning. Softer. Younger. Whatever it is that usually creases his brow has smoothed out. “It was nice sleeping with you.”

I don’t know what to say. I’m pretty sure the flush that heats my cheeks and the smile I can’t hold back says it all. A funny grin touches the corners of his mouth when he gets up, standing over me before leaning down for a soft, gentle kiss that still manages to singe my soul.

My toes are ready to curl by the time he straightens up. “I’ll see you later.”

He’s already out of the room and downstairs by the time it occurs to me to wonder when I’ll see him, where he’ll be. It won’t be at school. Does he plan on always staking out the store? He’ll end up failing out if he does that. I know I shouldn’t care, not after everything he’s done.

So why is it that when I hear the front door close downstairs, I slide down on the bed and stretch out with my head against the pillow he slept on?

It’s still warm. It smells like him—musky, spicy.

I turn my nose to it and breathe deep, remembering what it felt like to wake up with my head on his shoulder.

With our skin touching, our bodies so close.

What is happening to me? What is he doing to me? I barely recognize myself. Almost giggling, practically giddy. He even kissed me goodbye like there was something normal about doing so, and the thing is—it felt normal. It felt right.

Stretching again, I can’t help but remember how good he made me feel last night.

He wasn’t forceful; he didn’t demand anything afterward.

All he wanted to do was please me. Why? After everything he’s done, after all his cruelty, he can turn around and treat me like I’m more than his favorite punching bag.

And I can believe him. That’s the most confusing part of all. I genuinely believe he means it in the moment. He just wants me to feel good. He practically forces me to, like it matters that much.

The house is quiet. Lying in bed, I listen hard for any sounds telling me Mom or Dad are moving around.

He must already be gone for the day—he’s been spending more and more time outside the house lately.

Yet another weird little turn of events.

I don’t know how to feel about it. There’s something wrong about the relief I feel when I know I don’t have to see him.

There has to be. A good daughter, a normal daughter, would want to see her father. Right?

But then he’s not a normal dad. He’s anything but. I know it had to affect him, finding out I left school. I couldn’t lie about it—it was either tell the truth or pretend to go to class. He would have found out eventually.

But he just sort of stared at me, looking resigned. There was no argument, no demands for an explanation. Just…acceptance. It was chilling. I kept waiting for the shoe to drop, but it didn’t. It still hasn’t.

So I guess nobody can blame me for being glad he’s not home as I get out of bed and get in the shower.

I almost hate to wash away all traces of last night.

I must be sick. Like whatever makes Kellen run so hot and cold has rubbed off on me.

One minute I hate him, the next I don’t want to wash away his touch.

By the time I’m back in my room, wrapped in a towel, there’s an unread text on my phone. Emma: Hey, how are you? I was wondering if you would have lunch with me today.

I’m supposed to go to the store today. After all, if I’m not in school, I have to do something with my time.

I poke my head out into the hallway and find the door to Mom and Dad’s room open, the bed made.

There’s not a sound coming from downstairs.

Did she go over there with him this morning?

If she’s there, that means they don’t necessarily need me behind the register. Not yet.

But I need a friend. This morning, that feels more important than pulling a shift at the store. It’s more important than worrying about our lack of money, too—one lunch won’t kill anybody. And it’s not like I have to order anything expensive.

This is more about the experience. Spending a little time with a nice person. Emma is definitely nice, and I honestly can’t believe she bothered to reach out. She doesn’t owe me anything—it’s the opposite. I’m the one who should reach out and offer to take her to lunch after her kindness.

My mind is made up by the time I send a reply. Me: That would be great.

That’s it. No going back now. I might actually make a friend. It’s sad that the thought should make me this happy, but here I am, humming as I blow dry my hair, singing softly as I pick out my clothes. So this is what it’s like to feel a little slice of normalcy. I could get used to it.

Though I should know better than to think I’ll have the chance.

And there’s reality, tapping its nails against the back of my skull before pissing on my parade.

I believe Emma has nothing but the best intentions.

She told me enough about her own experiences to convince me she wants nothing more than to help out somebody in a similar position to the one she was in.

She’s paying it forward, like they say, and I’m nothing but grateful.

That doesn’t make us best friends. I have to be realistic, adjust my expectations. I don’t know if I can handle another major disappointment.

But I’m still a little excited, looking forward to a few minutes of happiness and normalcy in the middle of what’s been anything but lately. I think I’m allowed that much.

If she thinks there’s anything off about meeting at a diner close to my house, she doesn’t show it.

Her smile is nothing but bright and sunny when she gets out of her car, while I do the same now that she’s parked.

It’s a very working-class neighborhood, and this is a very working-class kind of diner.

Plenty of late model cars and trucks are parked in the small lot out front, miles away from the flashy cars I used to drive past while looking for a spot at school.

I don’t know why I ever thought I belonged there.

I can’t think about that right now. I don’t want to spoil this. Pushing those thoughts back, I accept her quick hug. “How have you been?” she asks on our way inside. Like it hasn’t only been a couple of days.

“I’ve been all right.” I slept next to Kellen last night. Naked. It would be too weird, trying to explain how that ended up happening, so I’ll leave it out. “Thank you again for being my savior.”

She waits until we’ve taken our seats in a booth near the window to shake her head and wave a hand before opening her menu. “Don’t even worry about it. You needed help; I was in the right place at the right time. And I’m glad.”

“Me, too.” I mean it with all my heart. It won’t be easy, reminding myself not to get too attached. I didn’t know how hungry I was for friendship until now.

I’m also hungry for actual food. The smells coming from the kitchen are mouth-watering. “I didn’t have breakfast,” I murmur, flipping to the back of the menu. “I could go for some pancakes.”

“Oh, damn” she giggles, following my lead. “Now I won’t be able to decide. I was going to be good and have a salad.”

“You can have a salad anytime. You’re at a diner that serves pancakes so big, the edges hang over the side of the plate.”

“Sold.” We share a laugh, the kind that makes me feel warm and good inside.

Over coffee, we chat some more about her experiences. “It’s kind of overwhelming, getting pulled into a big group of people like the group around the twins,” she says, stirring sugar into her mug. “But they really are good people.”

“You’re probably the first nice person I’ve met here,” I confess.

“I’ll have to introduce you to the other girls. Wren, Maya, Elliana. They’re great,” she assures me. “And I know they would like you, because I like you, and I’m pretty good at judging people.”

It’s tricky, though, and I can’t pretend that isn’t. “Even after all the things that were said about me around school? Would they really want to hang out with me?”

“Please,” she scoffs. “Everybody knows Tiana was behind that crap. Nobody really believes anything she says.”

They sure seemed to believe it at first, but then she’s not talking about the whole school, either.

Just certain people who take pleasure in mocking and bullying.

“Well, I would like to meet them,” I decide.

It takes some courage. I’m still tender, hesitant.

But the longer we sit here like this, the easier it is to believe life doesn’t always have to be so bleak.

We are well into our pancakes, with a plate of bacon between us to share, when somebody comes to a stop next to our table. Two somebodies who look a lot alike. Their identical scowls make me go cold.

“What are you doing here?” one of them demands of Emma. I don’t know the difference between them yet. He’s got longer hair than his brother, but that’s the only big difference I recognize after five seconds of being this close to them.

Great. And there I was, holding onto hope. Don’t I know better by now? The syrup-soaked pancakes go sour in my mouth, but I force myself to swallow, prepared for their cold, cruel treatment.

“Do you know what happens in this neighborhood?” the other twin asks. It doesn’t seem to matter that I'm sitting right here. They only have eyes for her.

Emma sets down her utensils and wipes her mouth on her napkin before giving them both a puzzled look. “How did you even know it was here?”

“Your location is turned on in your phone.” The one standing closer to me finally looks my way. “Hey,” he growls.

Okay. So he didn’t say anything mean…yet.

“We’re just having lunch,” she explains, shrugging. “Well, breakfast for lunch, but same difference.”

The one standing closer to her rubs his hand over the back of his neck before exchanging a look with his twin. “It’s just…no offense,” he murmurs, looking at me. “But if you want to come into a neighborhood like this, at least have one of us with you. If not both of us. It’s a little unsafe.”

So that’s the problem. My chest loosens along with my throat as understanding sinks in. It’s not that she’s here with me. It’s that they don’t like the area and want to protect her.

It’s actually kind of sweet. They care so much about her, they came running when they saw where she was. Now, they both snag a piece of bacon and consider grabbing a booth of their own.

It must be nice, having protectors like the two of them. I haven’t had one since Jason died.

I wonder if I ever will again.