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CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

TATUM

Highland University

Twelve Years Ago

When we get back to campus after break, the first thing I do is plan a party. Senior year is going out with a bang if I have anything to say about it—and I do. I have everything to say about it.

Matteo hasn’t spoken to me since Christmas, but he’ll be there because I told him to be. They all know better than to cross me.

When the night of the party rolls around, people are already toasted before I arrive with the boys.

“Where’s Matteo?” Dakota asks, and I swear to god these two must be in love because if this motherfucker asks me about our dumbass friend one more time?—

“He’ll be here.”

“Go unload our car,” Bradley tells one of the few underclassmen we invited, patting him on the shoulder.

“Sure thing, boss.” The boy jumps up without question, rushing toward the parking lot where my car waits, filled with alcohol I scored earlier.

“Are you sure about this?” Dakota asks, pulling me aside. “It feels extreme.”

“Are you questioning me?”

“I’m just saying that Matteo is our friend. I don’t know what’s up with him lately, but embarrassing him in front of everyone isn’t cool.”

“Oh? I didn’t realize you’d had a change of heart, madam.” I clutch my hands to my chest like a little housewife on the prairie. Then I drop them, glaring at him. “Maybe you’d rather I embarrassed you in his place.”

His jaw twitches. “It doesn’t have to be like this, Tatum. We all know it. We used to have fun, you know? What happened to those days?”

“Oh, right. Gee, I forgot. It was so much fun when our foster dad twisted my arm just to see how long it would take until it broke.” I fake a laugh. “Wasn’t that a blast?”

He rolls his eyes.

“Oh! Oh! And what about the time…yeah, maybe you were talking about the time he burned the shit out of my shoulder for letting you go outside during the summer when we weren’t supposed to leave the house. What about all the fun we had that day?”

“Point made, dude,” he grumbles.

“No, I want to know. Was that the fun you meant? Or was it when they used to film us and sell it to fucking pedos on the internet? Wasn’t that shit fun? Some of my best memories, personally. The really heartfelt stuff that you embroider on pillows and put in a scrapbook.” I wrinkle my chin with mock nostalgia. “Or what about the other houses, like the one where they’d lock us in our rooms without dinner? Or make us clean their fucking houses like we were little government-provided servants. Tell me more about all the fun we had, Dakota. I’m having trouble remembering it all, and I really don’t want to forget a thing.”

“I get it,” he grumbles, eyes distant. “Enough.”

I jab my finger into his chest. “I was the one who protected you back then, wasn’t I?”

His Adam’s apple bobs.

“ Wasn’t I ?”

“Yes, of course you were.”

“And we made a pact back then to stick together, didn’t we?”

“Yes.”

Again, I stab him in the chest with my finger. This time it’s so hard he winces. “Then we stick together, plain and simple.”

He nods, but he doesn’t say anything as his eyes find something over my shoulder. “He’s here.”

I turn around to see Matteo standing just behind me. He looks ready to kill me, which is a surprising turn of events given how long he’s had to calm down. I expected him to have come crawling back by now, but I have to admire his strength to hold out. I wave for the boys to follow me and lead them into the woods to our usual spot.

Whether they want to or not, they do exactly as I say, stopping only when I stop. I tease them, stopping abruptly, then taking giant steps and then short, quick ones, and they follow suit, growing more annoyed by the minute. They really do make this too easy.

Finally, when we’ve reached the clearing where we have our bonfires, I turn around, holding up a hand that tells them to listen.

“I think some of you have forgotten who I am. Am I not the brother who protected you all those years? Am I not the brother who took countless beatings for each and every one of you? Am I not the one who made sure the bullies didn’t pick on you when your clothes smelled like ass and were two sizes too small?”

There are a few mumbles of acknowledgment, but it’s not enough.

“Am I not? ” I shout, my voice echoing through the woods, though not loud enough to be heard over the blaring music at the party.

“Yes,” they all chime in, voices in unison.

I blink rapidly. “Then perhaps someone wants to tell me why the fuck I’ve been getting so much resistance.” I narrow my gaze at them, pointing at each individual one. “Because I thought the deal was that I say, ‘Jump,’ and you say, ‘How high?’” I cock a brow, then cross my arms. “Let’s test it, shall we? Jump.”

They exchange looks, and I bellow, “ Jump! ”

Two of them jump and the others ask, “How high?” Fucking idiots.

I widen my stance, staring them down. “I thought the deal was that I tell you to take my test or give me your sweatshirt or wash my car or fucking wipe my hairy ass, and you do it. Have I been wrong about that?”

They scowl, looking at each other.

“We’re your friends, Tatum. Your brothers. But we aren’t your servants,” Bradley says softly. “We will fight for you. Die for you. But the way you’ve been acting is…” His voice goes soft, and I don’t hear whatever word he’s saying as I stalk toward him.

“Is what?” I demand.

He doesn’t meet my eyes.

“Is what?” I shout.

He looks up finally. “Unhinged, bro. You’re scaring us.”

I stare at him for a long time, letting several uncomfortable seconds pass before I step back and scan each of their faces, waiting for someone to step in and defend me, to tell him he’s wrong. “Is that how you all feel?” I demand.

No one agrees with him, at least not aloud, but they don’t disagree either.

“I’m in charge,” I say firmly. “I say, ‘Run.’ You say, ‘Where?’ I say, ‘Hide.’ You don’t come out until I tell you you can. I say, ‘My car needs gas.’ You say, ‘I’ve got it.’” I turn and look at Matteo, my eyes drilling into him. “I say, ‘I want to fuck your girl.’ You say, ‘Have at it.’ You hand me the fucking condom. Hell, maybe you even put it on. Am I making myself clear?”

Every other head turns to look at Matteo, but his eyes are locked on mine.

“And before any of you even thinks about arguing, let me remind you that I have enough dirt on all of you to take you down ten times over. Videos. Photos. You will do as I say, or your lives are over. Is that understood?”

The boys stare at me with rage in their eyes. It fuels me like nothing I’ve ever felt. My entire body feels electric, like lightning. I’m shaking with adrenaline and spite.

“No?” I dig in my ear, pretending to clean it out because I obviously couldn’t hear their enthusiastic agreement, then grab my phone, opening it to my videos. I scroll back a few months and hold it out to Aaron. “Remember when you got so drunk you tried to suck your own?—”

“Stop!” he shouts, covering his eyes. “I’m with you, okay? I’m with you, dude.”

“We’re all with you,” Bradley says. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Good,” I say when I spot the woman walking toward us through the woods, her pretty black hair pulled up in a ponytail again, bag clutched to her chest. I’m hard already. “Because things are about to get a whole lot more interesting.”