Total pages in book: 155
Estimated words: 152045 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 760(@200wpm)___ 608(@250wpm)___ 507(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 152045 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 760(@200wpm)___ 608(@250wpm)___ 507(@300wpm)
“You know, I thought I understood you,” Constin tells me. “Some rich kid slumming it for kicks or under some misguided notion that it makes you noble to reject the comforts that not everyone gets to enjoy.”
I glance at Dylan to see her lift her chin as she talks to Kade.
“But it was all bullshit, of course,” Constin continues, “because you’re never really suffering if you know that you can run back to the mansion at any time.” He still doesn’t look at me, just studies the party. “But now, I think I misunderstood you. I see all this, the house you grew up in, the fuckin’ laze and people choking on their own egos, and I think no wonder you came looking for us.”
I go still, a little glad and a little sad. He sees what I saw. The boredom of people who value nothing, but…it doesn’t mean I was right, either. It just means I didn’t see it, and I wasn’t finding what I needed here.
He walks away, leaving me alone, and it finally occurs to me why my grandpa might’ve left Weston to fend for itself. Hard times make strong people.
He says it all the time.
Of course, Weston loves a good party as much as we do. They love to drink and fight and go to bed with people who make them feel good, but the difference is Weston doesn’t trust anyone easily. If you’re their friend, you earned it.
I don’t want to leave my school there.
“What the fuck is he doing?” Farrow grits out suddenly at my side.
I follow his gaze, seeing Kade fall in behind Dylan as she leads the way out of the pool. He takes her hand, both of them disappearing into the house.
I tip my head back and close my eyes.
“Hunter,” he says.
I hand him my drink and walk away. “Don’t follow me.”
“What?”
But I’m gone.
I follow Dylan and Kade into the house, and I don’t see her take him down to the basement, but I know that’s where they went. Through the entertainment room, past the bar and the people playing a video game, down the hall, and into the liquor storage room way at the end.
“I can’t,” I hear Dylan say.
I pause, listening by the cracked door.
“Sit,” he tells her.
“No.”
“Are you fucking him?”
I draw in a breath, pushing open the door. Kade turns his head, looking at me over his shoulder.
Cases of liquor and two kegs of beer sit against the wall to my left, while several barrels of my dad’s homemade whiskey are stacked to my right.
I step in, meeting Dylan’s eyes as she stands with her back to the wine racks. “Thanks,” I tell her.
She just looks away and starts to walk past me, but I catch her. “Stay.”
“I’m no longer interested.”
“I need you here,” I tell her.
She looks away, but she stays.
Kade sighs, crossing his arms over his chest, realizing Dylan wanted to get him alone. For me.
I close the door, the party far away, and if there’s shouting, no one will hear. “Where are Mom and Dad?” I ask him.
“In Springfield. Back tomorrow.”
A.J.’s either with Jared and Tate or Jax and Juliet, or she went with them. They wouldn’t trust Kade to get her and himself to school on time.
I clear my throat. “One Saturday morning, when we were fourteen—”
He starts to leave. “I need to play host, Hunter.”
I step in front of him, stopping him. “I told you I wanted to take Dylan to the new Fast movie,” I go on. “I was going to ask her and then ask Dad to drive us. Do you remember that?”
“Jesus,” he scoffs.
He moves around me again, but I shove him in the chest and advance quickly into him as he stumbles back.
Fire ignites in his eyes, but he stands tall.
He doesn’t push back, though. Dylan is still.
“Do you remember that day?” I bite out.
He smirks. “I remember going with her.”
I nod, smiling, but it’s a bitter one. Yeah, me too. He found an earlier showing, told Dad I didn’t want to come, and they were out of the house before I even knew what happened.
I swallow, squaring my shoulders. “When we were fifteen in JV, and it was the last game of the year, and our grandparents were in the stands, and so was Dylan, and you called the play where I run a lead block, but you threw the ball to me instead.” I remember it like it was yesterday. “I missed it. In front of our grandparents and Dylan and the whole stadium. You remember that?”
“I seem to remember you making a lot of mistakes in football.”
Yeah. He changed the play on me. I wasn’t supposed to receive the ball.
“And when we were sixteen,”
“Fuuuuck,” he gripes.
“And you brought a girl into my room while I was asleep one night,” I tell him. “I wake up, she’s taking her clothes off, and you’re standing behind her… What did you say?” I search my brain, trying to remember his exact words. “You slapped her on the ass and said, ‘He doesn’t talk cool, but tell him to keep his mouth shut and you won’t even know the difference, honey. Our dicks are identical too.”