Page 25

Alex

I finish my French final with nearly an hour to spare, relieved that it’s my last one for the day.

At least it’s not Shakespeare.

As soon as I drop my exam on Miss West’s desk, she glances up from her computer screen. “Alex, Principal Copenhaver needs to see you in his office,” she whispers. “If you’re finished, you’re free to go now.”

I pause, immediately suspicious. But regardless of what it’s about, it’s better than sitting at my desk doing nothing for the next hour.

When I arrive in the front office, there are two Dire Ridge police officers lingering near the admin’s desk. Mrs. Heffernan, the school secretary, glances up with a harried look as soon as she sees me.

“Principal Copenhaver is ready for you,” she says, motioning to the back hallway.

Dread settles in the pit of my stomach as I head toward Copenhaver’s office, the officers eyeing me the entire way. When I step inside, Mrs. G is there as well as another man dressed in slacks and a sport coat with a badge hanging from a lanyard. They all speak in hushed tones until they see me and Copenhaver motions to the only remaining chair.

“Mr. Barrera, have a seat.”

The office is stifling, the air thick with tension. I’ve never seen Mrs. G so serious, like she knows something is about to happen but she’s powerless to stop it. Copenhaver clasps his hands in front of him and peers at me with his usual hawkish gaze.

“This is Detective Lyle,” he introduces the other man, who I regard with the same stone face as he offers me. “I’m going to get straight to the point, Alex,” his expression turns even more severe than it already is, “there was an incident yesterday afternoon in which one of our students was seriously injured. Jordyn Harrington was found unconscious in one of the restrooms by the custodial staff. She has a massive head injury and is currently in the ICU. But unfortunately, she remembers nothing. Now—” he clears his throat, “we’re questioning everyone who was seen on the building’s security cameras around the time of the incident, which includes you.”

I can feel Detective Lyle’s eyes burning a hole in the side of my face and I start wondering whether Aiden’s interrogation advice would work in this situation, too.

Copenhaver leans back in his chair. “Vice Principal Granger says you gave Jordyn a ride home the day before yesterday?”

“Yeah.” I admit it only because it would seem more damning if I said nothing at all.

Mrs. G looks like she regrets ever offering up that piece of information, or even approaching me on Monday to begin with.

“Alex, we’re trying to be discrete about this so it doesn’t cause a panic and impede the investigation. So, it would be extremely helpful if you could answer a few questions for us.”

“OK,” I deadpan.

“You don’t seem very surprised by this news,” Lyle pipes up.

I clench my jaw and continue staring straight ahead.

There it is.

“Or maybe I should say, very concerned, ” he adds.

I glance to my left at Lyle, studying me with a hint of amusement. On the other side of him, Mrs. G lets out a forlorn breath as her face drops to the floor.

He’s right, though. Am I surprised that this happened? No. Jordy had it coming. Do I feel bad about it? Also, no. I’ll never pretend to care about Jordy, even to save my own skin. Lyle takes my silence as an invitation to probe further.

“I heard that the two of you had a relationship that didn’t end amicably. Some might say that it was downright contentious.”

And now I know that he’s bluffing, because the only three people at this school who know what happened—what really happened—would never tell a soul about it.

“You mean from her mom?” I surmise.

Sounds become muted and the periphery melts away as my tunnel vision begins to engage. And, in an instant, I’m transported back to a night that I wish I could forget.

“Be straight with me, Alex,” Lyle levels his gaze, “do you know of anyone who might have reason to harm Jordyn Harrington?”

Slowly, I swivel my head to meet his prying eyes.

Yes.

Yes, I do.

●●●

Colson crushes the rest of his drink in one gulp as Evie pumps her fist and they both resume headbanging in the middle of Leland Wiltshire’s pole building. They came covered in neon glow necklaces and bracelets, still in swimsuits from kayaking on the creek today. And with the EDM blasting through the speakers, they look like they should be at a rave rather than amongst a bunch of farm machinery.

It’s embarrassing to admit, but I’ve been coming to Leland’s farm to party for three years and I’ve never even met the dude. Everyone knows him, or claims to, but he’s a phantom that dips in and out of the shadows, never drawing much attention. He’s like a fucking high school celebrity Sasquatch.

Legendary.

Personally, I think he does it on purpose so that no one will ever be able to pick him out of a lineup.

While Colson is having the time of his life, I only get to enjoy myself for about 15 minutes before Jordy walks through the door with Layla and Jamie. It crosses my mind to just leave, but then I decide I’d rather get wrecked and just deal with it than let Jordy fuck up yet another night of fun.

A girl reaches past me to grab a Solo cup and I step back to give her room.

“Hey, Alex.”

I glance over and recognize Alicia Moreno smiling at me with her dark eyes, freckled nose, and full lips the color of cranberry.

“Oh, congratulations,” she says as she pours herself a drink. “I heard you were the star striker this year with the most goals at state.”

I hesitate at her oddly specific observation and then catch sight of Aiden and Mason over her shoulder, watching me with shit-eating grins plastered across their faces.

“You did, huh?” I try not to laugh.

“But you’re pretty good, though, right?”

“So, I hear,” I reply, taking the bait. “Remind me where you’re going to school this year.”

“Case Western. I don’t move in until next month, though.”

“Fancy,” I smirk.

Alicia shakes her head. “Just lucky.” Then she leans in and lowers her voice. “I’m on ROTC scholarship.”

That part gives me pause. “Really?” The serendipity is astounding. “I just decided to enlist in the Marine Corps next year.”

“ No, shit, ” she grins. “I knew there was a reason I had a crush on you.”

I let her conspicuously weave her fingers through mine and stay that way for the better part of an hour before I lead her into the neon fever dream. Colson and Evie are still in the middle, whipping their heads around like they’re being exorcised.

It’s true what they say about your ears burning when someone is talking about you, because mine are on fire as soon as I wrap my arms around Alicia’s waist and her hips start moving with mine. It’s all but confirmed when I spy Jordy seething in the shadows. If it were anyone else, I might feel a sliver of guilt. But since it’s Jordy, I’m considering fucking this girl right here on the concrete, in front of everyone.

But I don’t. Instead, I bide my time. Moving with the hard bass, Alicia brushes her face against mine periodically, trying to gauge whether I’ll play her games. Fortunately, I love games. Especially the kind where I drag shit out so long and build so much tension that she’s the one begging me to leave. And as soon as she does, I take her by the back of the neck and finally kiss her like she’s been hoping I will.

“Can we go somewhere else?” she whispers in my ear.

Without a word, I drape one arm around her neck and guide her out of the neon glow. She eagerly follows me, and just as we reach the door, I catch a flash of blonde hair framing a fiery gaze brimming with malice. I glance over my shoulder as I pass, locking onto Jordy’s blue eyes.

And I wink.

After that night at Leland’s, it’s quiet for the next couple of days and I’m starting to feel like myself again. Aiden credits himself, as usual, reiterating his own opinions about the pitfalls of getting sucked into emotional situations that are supposed to remain shallow and meaningless.

“You mean having feelings?” I ask as he whips around a curve and guns his engine on the way to my house.

“Exactly.”

My relief is short-lived, though. Aiden turns into my driveway and continues down the hill, pulling off to the far side of the turnaround. When I climb out of his car, I notice something on the hood of my SUV. It looks like someone dumped a pile of dirt or garbage straight over the top.

“God, what now?” I mutter, slamming the door and crossing the driveway to get a better look.

Arriving at my front bumper, I peer over the grill guard at the soggy black pile of flakey scraps charred black. The closer I look, the more it resembles clothing. Or…

The remnants look familiar, but I don’t know how. That is, until I reach over and scoop some into my hand. Clumps of sloppy ash fall through my fingers, leaving a tattered chunk of fabric. Images begin to flash through my mind as my muscles seize and my stomach churns with bile.

Green and white cotton squares stitched together, alternating between solid blocks and little green frogs on lily pads. But this doesn’t belong here, it belongs in my room. It should be safely tucked away. Why is it here, a pile of threadbare cotton reduced to ash?

It’s not real…it can’t be real…

My eyes bulge and I begin to tremble the longer I stare down at my black-streaked hands. A low hum builds in the pit of my stomach and claws its way up, finally bursting from my throat in one loud, long, and agonizing wail.

I grab another handful, and then another, sifting frantically through the burned remains of the only thing I had left that felt like her and, I swear, still smelled like her. At first, I don’t know what I’m screaming. It starts out as wet gibberish, but the longer I sob over my muddy black hands, the clearer it gets. The same word tumbles out of my mouth over…and over…and over.

Mamí.

I sink down to my knees, unable to lift my arms. I’m eight years old, inconsolable, watching her die all over again. And then I feel my dad holding me and telling me it’s OK to cry because I had the best mother in the world.

But it’s not my dad now, it’s Aiden. His arms are the ones wrapped around me, holding tight to keep me from collapsing onto the asphalt. My head falls back onto his shoulder in despair as I continue hyperventilating and crying into the treetops. His fingers dig into my arms as his chest heaves against my back.

I’m crying so hard that no sound comes out, only the clicks of silent sobs until I can catch another breath and let out another scream that burns my throat and makes me go hoarse again. Soon, I’m clutching the blackened shreds to my chest, my face swollen and soaked with tears as my cries morph into pitiful moans.

“I’m here, I’m here, I’m here…” Aiden’s voice crackles in my ear.

I twist around and throw my free arm over his shoulder, burying my face in his neck as I start crying her name again and cradling the burned remains of my baby quilt to my chest. Tears run down Aiden’s cheeks and he bares his teeth in a loathsome grimace.

“She’s going to pay,” he rasps. “I promise you I’ll make her bleed for this.”

He takes a deep breath, his voice turning ominous and resolute.

“I’ll paint the walls with her fucking blood.”

●●●

“If you’re going to arrest me, just do it and get it over with.”

Aiden’s advice is simple and straight-forward, and it’s how I’m choosing to respond to Detective Lyle.

“Settle down, Barrera,” Copenhaver interjects. “We have you on camera in the back lot with Colson Lutz at the time of the incident. You also don’t fit the description of the individual caught on camera.”

Oh, so Detective Lyle just needed to put on his show to cover all his bases. Probably to make up for the fact that there are only security cameras outside the school and none inside.

“Alright, so what do you want from me?”

Copenhaver leans forward, speaking slowly and deliberately. “Do you know who else might want to hurt Jordyn? Anyone who might’ve been angry about what happened between you two, anyone she had an altercation with?” He’s throwing out any scenario he can to get me to bite.

The sinking feeling in my stomach returns, but I don’t bat an eye.

“I’m sure the line would stretch around the block,” I say bitterly.

I’m done here. If they want help trying to find Jordy’s attacker, maybe they shouldn’t have picked someone who wakes up every morning hoping a sinkhole opens up in the middle of Main Street and swallows her up on her way to school.

I move to stand. “Let me know how it turns out,” I say as I exit the office, jerking the door shut behind me.

I can’t get down the hall fast enough, sprinting up the stairs to the second floor while hoping to God that Aiden is where he’s supposed to be. I stop outside of Mrs. Peltier’s room, scanning the desks for Aiden, but he’s nowhere to be found. Then again, maybe it’s best that he’s not here if Copenhaver’s calling people down to his office to be interrogated.

With nothing else keeping me at school, I slip out the back door and head for the senior lot. Only when I reach my SUV do I pull out my phone and try to call Aiden. It rings over and over without answer. I keep glancing in my mirrors as I speed through town, paranoia setting in that he might’ve done exactly what he promised to do.

I check everywhere I can think of; the creek, the railroad bridge, Mason’s house, Colson’s house, and finally the Raffertys’ house to make sure he hasn’t been home the entire time, but I can’t find his car anywhere. There’s only one other place I can think of, but there’s no way in hell I’m venturing out there. If Aiden is somewhere with Brantley or Wesley Rhoden, the cops won’t find him anyway.

Unable to do anything else for the time being, I head back to my house. I want to blow up the group chat and see if Colson or Mason knows where he is, but I’m still too paranoid to put anything in writing until I see all of them in person. Sometimes ignorance is best. Mistakes happen when everyone is trying to get their stories straight.

My house is silent, the perfect conditions to study for my last final tomorrow, but that’s a pipe dream. Instead, I pull out my headset and PS4 from its hiding place behind my headboard and start playing , but I can only concentrate on it for about 30 minutes before I feel like I’m about to crawl out of my skin. After that, I begin obsessively sorting through my belongings, deciding what will happen to everything I own after I leave on Monday. I’ve been thinking about it for a while. It’s not like I’ll never be back, but I can’t guarantee the safety of anything important to me while I’m gone—even with Adrian here.

Hours go by, and I still haven’t heard anything from Aiden, Colson, or Mason.

A door shuts in the hallway, startling me, but I don’t bother to look. I know who it is. Luca still has a bedroom here, but it never occurred to me whether or not he still uses it. I listen to the heavy footsteps get fainter as they move away from my door. He’s been here the entire time.

My brother is a ghost; a shadow that moves out of the corner of your eye, and when you look, he’s gone. I feel like I’m turning into the same thing—just another shadow that’s gradually disappearing from this house. Finally, the front door shuts and he’s gone. And in a few days, I’ll be gone, too.

I shouldn’t have brought Dallas here. It was the wrong time. The next time Dallas sees where I live, it’s going to be different. It has to be mine, something brand new—to me, at least—and I have to be different. I have to have my shit in order. The only way I’ll allow her to see this room is when we bring our little boy or girl here to visit grouchy Uncle Adrian and his artificial knees and herniated discs.

My phone starts vibrating and Adrian’s name flash across the screen.

Speak of the devil…

“Hey, man,” he sounds exhausted, per usual. “You didn’t take my credit card, did you?”

His tone suggests he already knows the answer.

“No, why?”

“Because it’s not in my wallet, and when I checked the account, it has a bunch of random charges on it from today.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know,” he lets out an irritated sigh, “some cash from an ATM across town, charges from a gas station, a sporting goods store…oh, yeah,” he snickers, “and one from some bougie cupcake shop in the city.”

Even I have to laugh at that one. You wouldn’t know it by looking at him, but Luca’s a major pastry connoisseur, to the point where he bakes for all of our birthdays because he thinks every other bakery makes shit cakes—or at least he used to.

“Dude, call the cops,” I huff, “report him for identity theft.”

“I can’t do that,” Adrian mutters, like every other time.

“ Yeah, you fucking can!” I exclaim with disgust. “ Bruh, he probably went and bought more guns. Lock his ass up!”

“What good would that do? Then he’d be in prison. What then?”

“Fine!” I snap. “Then put him in rehab before he kills himself!”

“If I could even find him…”

“He was here today when I got home,” I retort, to which there’s only silence.

“Are you alright?” he finally asks apprehensively.

“Don’t worry, I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you by making you clean my dead body up off the floor when you get home.”

“Come on, man—” he tries to brush me off, but I interrupt him before he can.

“ He put a gun to your head! ” I roar.

“I’m aware,” Adrian exhales. “I was there. ”

“You know what? Maybe he’ll get arrested. How fucking sad is it that his only hope is prison at this point? Hope he doesn’t kill anyone on his way there because you felt too guilty to do anything about it.”

“At least I’ll be here to deal with whatever happens to him,” Adrian snaps.

It’s like another punch to the chest, except this time he’s not worried that I’ll die in some foreign country. This time, he’s implying that I’m abandoning them, and if I die, too, then that will be the ultimate slight.

Without another thought, I mash my thumb onto the screen and end the call.

Dallas is right. We are like the Curtises. Left behind…holding on by a thread…fighting…I hate you…I didn’t mean it…I’m running away…such a disappointment…

I grab my backpack from the floor and tear a sheet of paper from my notebook. When I start writing, I don’t stop until the page is filled, and after that, I reread every word, adding and subtracting until I say everything I want to say.

Folding the paper up, I stuff it into my back pocket and throw open my closet door. I kneel down and start clearing the space in front of the patched portion of the wall near the floor. I reach for my knife to start scoring the wall, but it’s not there. After searching my room as well as every pair of pants in my clothes hamper, I still come up empty.

With an exasperated groan, I stalk out of the room and return with a jab saw from the garage. I make quick work of punching through the drywall to reveal the cavity between the studs and start sawing a hole big enough to reach inside. It doesn’t have to be large, just enough to remove what I’ve been hiding there for the past 10 months.

And once I pull it free, I shove everything back into place and storm out of the room and straight out of the house into the twilight.

●●●

Scott’s truck is parked outside the garage, but Colson’s Civic is gone. Keeping close to the tree line, I slow my pace when I recognize Scott and Christy’s voices on the back patio. Based on the additional voices and the woodsmoke rising into the trees, I surmise they have guests. My eyes dart to the front porch and I seize the opportunity to head, undetected, to the front door.

It’s not out of the ordinary for me to show up on the Lutz’s front porch, or even walk in without ringing the doorbell. If anyone comes inside, it would only take a few seconds to say I’m dropping something off for Colson. Fortunately, no one does and I continue upstairs. I just hope Dallas is home.

I gently twist the knob and the door gives way, revealing the soft pink glow of her Pepto Bismol walls.

Maybe she leaves it unlocked if Colson’s not home.

I find her asleep on her bed, glasses cast off onto the comforter next to her phone and gaming headset. Gently, I shut the door, twist the lock, and then I just stand there, staring at her for the next few minutes. She’s wearing another oversized t-shirt, this time a blue one with Dire Wolves Soccer screen printed on it in white. It’s definitely Colson’s.

But it’d look better if it was my jersey…

Realizing I’m still carrying the dusty item I extracted from my wall, I set it on her dresser before approaching the bed. Eyeing her black boy shorts that’ll always look too small compared to her wide hips, I slowly slide my knee onto the bed and swing my other over her legs.

It’s a dangerous place, crouching over Dallas while she sleeps. She stirs beneath me and I try not to breathe, waiting for a scream, a curse, maybe a punch in the face or a kick in the balls. But it never comes. And the longer I look at her in the dim light, the less I care about every responsibility I have, including the ones I have to her.

I’ve somehow made it 18 years without dying in some ridiculous way, no thanks to her brother, I’ve helped Adrian keep our family together even while Luca actively tries to destroy it, I made a plan for my life on my own, and yet, somehow, I’m the one being accused of abandoning my family. Now, I’m staring down at the only person who seems to have any shred of insight to how I feel, and she’s the only one I don’t want to leave.

Dallas’s chest rises and falls with deep, steady breaths as I take in every feature of her face framed by a cascade of long black hair. I wonder if she feels my eyes on her, if I’m infiltrating whatever dream she’s having right now.

Her skin feels like satin under my fingers as I run them up her torso to her ribs, sliding her t-shirt up as I go. My hand stills as I watch for movement, but she’s dead to the world. A smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. If I put my dick in her, I bet she’d wake up then…

No, I want her good and conscious for that. I want to see her face when she feels me bottom out inside her for the first time.

I continue sliding her shirt up, stopping just beneath her tits. And when she doesn’t move, I sink down and run my tongue over her warm stomach. I want to collapse on top of her and tear her apart. God, I love the way she feels in my mouth…

Dallas inhales sharply and her muscles tense, but she settles back down, adjusting her hips beneath me. Slowly, I reach down and gently hook my fingers in her waistband. I hesitate, staring at her for the longest time, the adrenaline pumping harder and harder until I can’t take it anymore.

I should take my hands off of her, step back, and maybe just leave because every ounce of sensibility and willpower I have is about to disappear. I came here a torqued-up mess, and this isn’t helping. She’s not even awake to distract me and bring me back down. She’s asleep, and I’m not coming back down.

I don’t want to come back down.

Fuck it.

Gently, I start working her black boy shorts down her waist and over the curve of her hips.

But, suddenly, Dallas’s eyes open and my hand flies to her mouth, gently covering it to keep her quiet. She gasps and grabs my wrist, but then relaxes when she sees it’s me. She immediately smiles as I slide my hand away from her mouth and to the side of her neck.

“Where did you come from?” she whispers.

I plaster on a sweet smile for her like I'm not about to split straight out of my skin. “I had to get out of my house.” She nods, probably understanding more than anyone else could. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“Liar,” she says like she can read my mind, then swings her leg around my back and pulls me down on top of her. “I missed you,” she hums in my ear as I run my hands up her torso, inhaling that intoxicating scent that can only be Dallas Lutz.

Or that Marc Jacobs shit she was talking about.

“I missed you, too, Dal,” I say as I trail soft kisses over her lips.

“Oh,” she pulls back like she just remembered something, “you left this here.”

She reaches over to the side table and grabs a small, dark object. And, to my surprise, when she opens her hand, my black metal pocket knife sits square in the middle of her palm.

I furrow my brow. “When?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugs, “I just found it by the window.”

I know I’ve used this knife since the last time I was in this room. But then how could she have found it here? I don’t have the mental capacity to worry about it right now, so I just accept it and tuck the knife into my pocket.

“Alex?”

“Yeah, Mama?”

“Will you—” she hesitates, licking her lips like she’s working up her nerve, “will you give me one?”

“Give you one what?”

And then Dallas gazes up into my eyes with the most intensity I’ve ever seen. “The same tattoo you have.”

“No,” I clip. “Absolutely not.”

“ Why not? ” she demands with the most incredulous scowl.

“Dallas, I’m not slicing you up with my knife.”

I’m not Colson, for Christ’s sake…

“Why can you do it with them, but not with me?”

Does she really have to ask that?

“Why do you want one?”

“Because you’re leaving. And I don’t know…”

My chest tightens as she trails off. She doesn’t have to finish for me to know what she’s implying. It’s the same thing Adrian’s been saying outright since I told him I was enlisting.

Dallas’s tone suddenly changes. “I don’t need your permission,” she hisses, “but you said it only counts if one of you do it. And if you don’t…”

I’m not sure if she herself would do it, but the thought of her asking someone else to carve a number— my number —into her flesh fills me with a toxic mixture of rage and betrayal. And maybe that’s how she meant it. Little hellion…

My eyes locked onto hers, I rise up on my knees and reach back into my pocket for my knife. But as soon as I flip it open, I know I can’t do it—at least not in its current condition. Scanning the room, I zero in on a lighter tucked between a couple of candles on the bookshelf. It never would’ve occurred to any of us to worry about whether we were slicing into each other with a clean blade. But if she wants me to do this, I’m going to do it right.

Dallas watches with baited breath as I slowly sweep the flame back and forth over every inch of the blade. When I’m satisfied it’s sterile enough, I toss the lighter onto the comforter and sink down between her legs, slowly pulling her shirt up to expose her torso.

I tap the blade with my finger to make sure it’s cool and then press my free hand to her skin to hold it taught.

“Once I start, I’m not stopping ‘til it’s finished.”

I adjust my hold on the knife and she sucks in a breath as soon as I touch the tip to her skin.

“You need something to bite on?” I smile.

But when I glance up, I spy one of her fuzzy, mint green Squishmallows peeking out from behind her hair and suddenly, Aiden’s voice pops into my head.

She’ll be biting the hell out of them soon enough…

I put my head back down and try to focus on what I’m doing. Fuck you, Aiden. Fuck you…

“Just breathe, Dal,” I say softly as goosebumps skitter down her arms. “Just keep breathing.”

Having recently sharpened my knife, I press down and immediately draw blood. I would tell her the sharper it is, the less it’ll hurt, but I don’t think it’ll make a difference. She digs her fingers into one of my shoulders with tiny gasps while she claws the comforter with the other, eliciting a response in me that I try my hardest to ignore.

“Who’d have thought badass Angelína would be my sweet girl after all,” I smirk as I finish the curve of the two. “Being so good for me,” I rotate the tip, “letting me mark her as mine...”

She lets out a muted whimper, digging her nails into my shoulder. Gently, I press her harder into the mattress so she stays still.

“Look at me,” I command as she kneads my shirt in her fists. “Breathe, Dal. You’re doing so good,” I practically moan.

Dallas’s eyes flutter and I’m not sure if it’s from the pain or something else. I make quick work of the three, and with a couple flicks of my wrist, it’s finished. Without giving it a second thought, I dip down and cover her cuts with my mouth, tonguing her skin.

Now she’s part of me, too.

She clenches my waist between her thighs, wincing as I taste the metallic bite of her blood, sucking the wound clean enough to press her t-shirt to it so it doesn’t drip onto her white comforter.

After a few moments, I lift the edge and look underneath. “Yo, that’s hot, Dal,” I smile.

I never knew bloody lacerations could be so beautiful until I saw my handwriting etched into her immaculate skin.

She cranes her neck, trying to peer over her chest at the garnet letters. “Does it look good?”

“Better than any of ours,” I say as I wipe my knife on my t-shirt and flip it shut.

Then I cover her wound again and crawl up her body. “There. Is that enough to leave you with for the time being?”

“Are you leaving now?” she asks with disappointment.

“No,” I sink down on top of her and bury my face in the curve of her neck, “I’ll stay until you’re asleep.”

“All you do is tell me no and then leave.”

Are you fucking kidding me right now, Dallas?

“Jesus, Dal, I just carved my number into your body because you asked me to and you’re still mad that I won’t put my dick in you yet?”

“You’ll be gone a long time,” she argues, “and what if you…” She still can’t bring herself to say it.

What if I die?

And who’s filling her head with this garbage? I hate that for her. Virginity is a social construct, and the only men who want virgins are incels who are shit in bed and hope no one will notice.

I raise up on my elbows and look her dead in the eyes. “That bullshit’s not real, Dal. It’s special with whoever you want it to be special with. And the next time I see you, that’s when it’ll matter.”

She glares up at me with her hateful little face, but after a few seconds, a tiny grin pulls at her mouth and, as much as she bites her lip, she can’t hide it. She’s a hellion, after all, hiding behind her bright eyes and contagious smile.

“Four years,” I say firmly. “Have your fun and grow up. But I’ll warn you, all you're going to do is wonder what I feel like,” I slowly brush my nose back and forth against hers, “and you’re going to imagine what my mouth feels like on every inch of your body and how much you’ll shake when your tight little pussy finally takes my dick for the first time.”

I can feel her heart pounding against my chest as she stares back at me with wide eyes, her fingers kneading the backs of my shoulders like she wants to tear me apart.

Yeah, I’m coming back for her.

Pacified for the time being, I settle back into Dallas’s neck and listen to her breaths get deeper and deeper as she drifts off. I’ll let her experience some mediocrity and disappointment before I get my hands on her again, because what matters is who’s left standing at the end.

And I will be the last man standing for Dallas Lutz.

I don’t want to leave, but I still haven’t located Aiden or spoken to Colson or Mason since I stormed out of Copenhaver’s office. The voices outside Dallas’s window are gone now, which means I can’t leave the same way I came.

I give Dallas one last kiss and peel myself off her body, covering her with one of the fleece blankets at the end of her bed. The patio is dark, so I creep out the window and down the pergola, keeping an eye on the back door. Once I’m safely across the driveway, I start jogging back down the tree line toward the road.

I’m almost to my door when a heaviness washes over me. I can’t even bring myself to reach for the door handle. Instead, I just stand there in the clearing, looking around at the trees and the dark outline of the water tower like I don’t know where I am.

My heart starts to pound, and with a jerk of my arm, I slam my fist into the side of the Lexus. I throw more punches, my knuckles popping against the steel body as I let out all the rage and frustration and injustice that’s been simmering for longer than I care to admit.

Raising my arms, I pound on the hood with a few resounding bangs before spinning around and letting out a feral yell into the trees. When there’s no air left in my lungs, I sink to the ground, hunching over and grabbing my head in frustration.

“Hey, skeeze,” a voice startles me and I almost fall on my ass in the dirt.

“ Aiden? ” I rasp, peering across the clearing at his tall, foreboding silhouette.

“Sorry to interrupt your nervous breakdown.”

I start picking myself up off the ground, “Where’d you come from?”

“Why haven’t you been answering our texts?”

Are there texts? I haven’t looked at my phone since I left my house.

He doesn’t wait for me to answer, “I knew you’d be here,” he smirks, glancing in the direction of the Lutz’s house.

“Where the fuck have you been?” I growl as he saunters toward me.

“Damn, if I’d have known you were so desperate to see me, I would’ve cut my plans short tonight.” He reaches up and gives my cheek a pat. “You’re my number one, after all.”

I smack his hand away. “They saw you. They have you on camera.”

“Who?”

“Copenhaver, the police, they think you tried to kill Jordy.”

“Do they?” There’s a glint in Aiden’s eyes as his mouth stretches into a wide grin, accentuating his lip rings beneath each canine. “I still can, if you want. But it looks like someone got to her before I did.”

Then leans back against my SUV with a devilish grin.

“ Bitch couldn’t keep her mouth shut .”