Page 7 of Watch Your Back (Devil’s Backbone #2)

The Devil’s Backbone Society wants to expel Heath. They’re claiming that attempted suicide goes against the reputation and ethos of the society and that his treatment in the mental health facility casts a stain on the society. I need to fix this somehow, without sounding completely insane myself.

F or two days, we all camped out in the living room, eating snacks and watching movies inside the enormous blanket fort, which only grew more grand once Max and my dad saw it the next morning. It was peaceful and cozy—and never going to last.

After those two amazing days, the blanket fort was packed away.

“So what happens when we head back to campus next week?” Carly asked as we folded the last of the sheets. “Are you coming back, Heath?”

He nodded, seeming more relaxed and comfortable in his skin than I think I’d ever seen him. “For sure.”

“We are installing some new security features at the apartment,” Carter added, watching Heath wearily. “Just alarms and shit to alert us if anyone sleepwalks.”

It was a smart idea, but I was dubious as to whether it’d work. If all of them were under the same hypnosis, like they had been the night of the science hall fire, then would an alarm be enough to snap them out of it? I wasn’t so sure. But I also had no better suggestions.

Anxiety clawed at me as the guys all packed their bags to leave, words sticking in my throat.

I wanted to know if things would change or if we’d go back to how it was.

Would Royce still ignore me? Would I have a stranger parked outside my room as security?

Or had we decided I was no longer in any danger from the Devil’s Backbone Society and therefore permitted to resume normal college-dorm living?

I wanted to ask. But I was too scared to hear the answer, so I bit my tongue as Mom hugged everyone and they left the house. To my surprise, Nate also left with the guys, but I didn’t realize until after they were gone.

“He has some society business to take care of,” Max told me quietly when I asked. “Making sure Heath can keep his place without participating for a while.”

I frowned, staring out at the empty, snow-covered driveway. “Why would he even want to stay in the society? What’s the point? Surely, they can do dumb rich-kid shit without the cloaks and masks?”

Max sighed. “That’s not what the DBS is all about, Ash.

I know it might seem like it, with all the parties and silly pranks—nice work on the duck game by the way—but it’s about more than that.

Former DBs make up some of the world’s most powerful and influential leaders and for any college students with aspirations of grandeur, they can’t afford to be cast out.

” He shrugged, like it was just the facts of life.

“Anyway. What are you going to do with the rest of your day? Your dad suggested maybe ice skating on the lake?”

I frowned, confused by his explanation. Did Heath have aspirations of grandeur? I wouldn’t have thought so but then again, maybe I didn’t know him all that well. I didn’t really know any of them that well.

“Um, yeah, that sounds nice. Dad used to take me skating every Christmas when I was little.” Then I paused and offered Max a lopsided smile. “You can join us if you want?”

The smile that he sent back was full of warmth. “That’s nice of you to offer, Ash, but I’m a hopeless skater. No, you spend some time with Stew before he has to fly out. I’ll take Carina shopping, since I know she loves the chaos of sales days.”

She really did. My mom was an odd breed, genuinely enjoying the bedlam of a big sale in a department store. She used to drag me out of bed early on Black Friday just to experience the mayhem, not even to buy anything.

I tried my best to push the anxiety of the secret society, the guys’ distance, and Heath’s mental health all aside to focus on my dad. He needed to fly back to South Sudan soon, and I didn’t know when I’d next see him.

For the rest of the day, we skated—thanks to the new ice skates I’d just got for Christmas—and baked more gingerbread cookies, then ate them all before they’d even cooled.

We did all the things we used to do when I was little—before his work took him away for so long and before Mom decided it was easier without him around.

“Can I ask you a question?” I finally plucked up the courage as we cleaned up our baking mess that evening.

“Of course you can, sweetheart. What’s on your mind?”

I avoided eye contact, focusing on drying the mixing bowl he’d just washed. “What’s going on with you, Mom, and Max? Do you guys…have history?”

My dad gave a startled laugh, grabbing a dish towel to dry his hands. “Well…if I may answer your question with another question: What’s going on with you, Heath, and Carter?”

My face flamed. Carter had kept a respectful distance the whole time he’d been here, but he’d taken every opportunity to eye-fuck me and make suggestive comments when he thought no one was listening. Apparently he was wrong because my dad had sure as fuck noticed.

I cleared my throat. “Touché. Let’s leave it at that.”

Dad laughed, tossing his head back. “Good choice, kiddo. Let’s leave it at that. Now, are we making popcorn and watching one last Christmas movie before I go?”

“Only if it’s The Grinch ,” I replied, heading for the pantry to grab some microwave popcorn.

“Nothing less!” Dad replied.

When Mom and Max came home a little later, she complained about our choice of movie—the Whoville Whos gave her the creeps—but they both joined us nonetheless.

Weirdly…I was a little sad that Nate hadn’t returned. Which was extra odd because he drove me fucking insane most days and was downright unpleasant on the rest. But it felt a little empty without him lurking around like a scowling house cat.

Saying goodbye to Dad before dawn the next morning was hard. Just as Max and Mom drove away to drop Dad at the airport, Nate’s truck passed them at the gates on his way back in.

I waited, my arms folded around myself in the frosty predawn air.

“What?” Nate asked as he slammed his door and glared up at me standing in the doorway.

I bit back the urge to toss insults, because I genuinely wanted answers and it was Nate’s style to withhold information if he was riled up. “Is everything okay?” I asked instead, keeping my tone civil.

He quirked a brow as he drew closer. “Okay with what?”

I rolled my eyes, already irritated. “With the society shit. Max said?—”

“Max shouldn’t have said anything,” he snapped back, towering over me and causing me to tip my head back to hold eye contact. He gave a small frown. “Have you always been this short?”

I was just in socks, having gotten out of bed to say farewell to my dad, but I didn’t exactly wear heels every day. “I’m not short, you ass. I’m average height.” According to Google, five foot three was perfectly average, but when Nate was a whole foot taller…yeah, it did feel pretty short.

“You’re short as fuck, Ashley. And you’re freezing. Go inside, idiot.” He said it with a scowl, but his voice lacked any real harshness.

I tilted my chin back farther, holding his gaze defiantly as I stood my ground. “I’m fine. Did you fix things for Heath? Are they kicking him out?”

Nate’s brows rose. “Wow, my dad really got chatty. Society business only concerns society members. Which you, Layne, are not. Now are you letting me inside, or do I need to know the secret password?”

Amusement sparked in my chest against my better judgment. “Yes.”

“Yes?” he repeated, confused.

“Yes, you need to know the secret password. Or you can tell me what happened with the society instead?” I shifted my weight because I really was shivering but also determined to block him from passing until I got the answers I wanted.

He scoffed a short laugh, running his hand over the dark scruff of his jaw. Then instead of just telling me what’d happened—like a rational human being—he grabbed my waist and lifted me clear off the ground.

A startled squeak escaped me, and I instinctively gripped his biceps for balance as he took several steps forward into the foyer of the house, kicking the door shut behind himself.

“Short and light. Makes for a shitty gatekeeper, Layne.” He put me down on the marble floor and tugged off his leather jacket. “Are you going back to bed or do you want coffee?”

My jaw was basically on the floor as he hung his jacket on a hook and kicked his boots off.

“Since when are we making each other coffee?” I spluttered as he swaggered through to the kitchen with me trailing behind.

“If you don’t want one, just say so.”

Dickhead. “I do want one. I’m just confused.”

“And short,” he added under his breath but still loud enough that I heard him. “Don’t read too much into it, Layne. I’m making coffee for myself so it’s not a big deal to make you one too.”

I mean, sure, that was logical, and if it were anyone else, I wouldn’t be questioning their motives quite so much. But given the general animosity between us, I was now second-guessing all the coffee he’d made me in the last few days. Was he spitting in it?

“Are you going to tell me anything about the society stuff?” I asked instead, refocusing on the important.

Nate shook his head while concentrating on the coffee machine. “Nope. It’s need-to-know only, and you, reckless shithead, do not need to know. Caramel or chocolate syrup?”

“Rude,” I grumbled. “Caramel, please.”

He went about making our drinks, and I leaned against the counter while trying to think of another tactic to get information.

“Why do you all want to be in the Devil’s Backbone Society anyway?” I asked, attempting a roundabout approach. “Do you have delusions—I mean, aspirations of grandeur in your future? Politics or something?”

Nate scoffed. “You reckon I’d make a good politician, Layne? I’m weirdly offended. And I’m not talking about the DBs with you.”

I rolled my eyes. “Why? Because I didn’t want to do all your dumb initiation games? I still did the duck thing, didn’t I? So aren’t I technically part of the cult too?”

Nate sighed. “Yes. Against my better judgment, technically you are. But you’re nowhere near the level that grants you the information you’re fishing for, so just quit it.

Heath will be fine—we’d never let anything bad happen to him.

” As soon as those words left Nate’s mouth, he stiffened and his expression tightened, clearly thinking how his friend had nearly died recently.

“You didn’t let that happen, Nate, and you couldn’t have done much to stop it,” I said softly, recognizing the guilt etched across his face. “But that whole thing is why I want to know what?—”

“On the contrary, Layne, that whole thing is exactly why you should have nothing to do with this.” He slid my coffee across the counter to me, then picked up his own.

“Heath’s choice to attempt suicide was strongly tied to his feelings of guilt and fear of hurting someone.

You. He was scared he’d end up hurting you, Ashley.

So bear that in mind when we return to campus.

Maybe Heath would be a lot happier and safer if you weren’t around. ”

Surprise and confusion stilled my tongue. Was he blaming me? Or warning me of something?

“Food for thought,” he muttered, then took his coffee and headed into the living room. A moment later, the sound of the PlayStation booting up echoed through the house and I retreated to my bedroom to think about what he’d said.

Maybe I did need to consider keeping my distance…for Heath.