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)
“And I have one who hid behind bravado like Kade a lot,” he tells me. “Hid being the key word there.”
I slam the car door and meet his eyes. “So?”
“What you’re seeing and hearing from him…” He holds my gaze. “I guarantee you, is to hide a problem that has nothing to do with a girl.”
So, what does that mean?
He used Dylan as a way to hurt me? Why?
I never hurt him. He has a charmed life. Two amazing parents. Lots of friends. What problems does Kade have?
Noah leaves, and I’m left standing there in the middle of all the cars drowning in fog.
All of these vehicles were on the road when the dam collapsed during the storm twenty-two years ago. The traffic was bad, because of evacuations, and people literally had to climb out and run. When the water receded, they moved the cars off the road and meant to junk them later, but never did. So many people never came back. The town forgot.
All of the homes had families once, but most of the owners of these cars have moved on, their lives completely different than the last time they sat in them.
Shit can change really quickly. One second, you have a life, and the next, everything you own is gone.
For the past year, I’ve operated under the assumption that Kade and I would come back from this. Once I showed him that I was just as strong on the field, he would respect me.
What if that never happens?
And what if, in the process, I hurt Dylan, the best friend I’ve ever had?
I drive home as fast as I can, finding Knock Hill covered with cars.
People gather in the street, and every light in my grandfather’s house is on.
I park and walk up the steps, my heart hammering at the idea of seeing her inside. He said he was getting her drunk tonight.
Opening the front door, I enter the house, my ears filled with the music pounding out of the speakers that Farrow has positioned all over the living room. I step into the foyer, gazing around at Calvin, Mace, Arlet, Luca, and Coral at the dining room table on my left.
None of them are drinking. Or smiling.
But excited chatter and laughter goes off to my right, and I glance at Farrow sitting in the high-back chair, the guys and several other students at our school hanging around.
“Hi, Hunter,” some girl chirps.
I ignore her, fixing my gaze on Farrow.
“I wasn’t in on it,” he says.
“I know.”
It was Mace and the rest of them sitting at the table right now. Farrow has them in timeout.
“Where is she?” I ask him.
“Just went to take a shower.” He jerks his chin in the direction of her house next door. “I gave her a bottle.”
I go up to my room, close the door, and stand there for about three seconds before I snatch her vibrator out of my desk drawer.
It’s still her birthday.
I pull the charging cord off and wrap it in a hand towel, heading back downstairs and out the front door before anyone can stop me. Slipping through the Rebels partying on the sidewalk, I walk into her house and close the door behind me. Once upstairs, I approach the white door and knock.
It opens with a quick jerk, but not all the way. Dylan looks up at me through a sliver of space, still dressed and her lips red from our kiss.
“I have your bath toy,” I tell her.
Dylan
I stare down at the pink toy peeking out from the hand towel in Hunter’s hand. He went into my room?
I pierce him with my stare, embarrassment warming my cheeks.
“Let me in,” he says.
I shake my head. “You sound like Kade. I’ll bet he doesn’t ask girls nicely, either.”
I’m sick of this. I’m officially sick of them. Both of them pulling at me and pulling at me, like I’m a toy neither of them have played with for years and didn’t want until the other one did. I don’t matter. It’s whoever wins who matters, right?
I start to shut the door, but he inserts his foot before I can close it.
“Dylan,” he says, his voice strained. “Let me in.”
His tone is softer, his eyes pained.
He doesn’t wait, though. He forces the door open, and I back up, past the sink on my left and the shower on my right, slamming into the wall.
Keeping his eyes on me, he sets the vibrator on the counter, unwraps it from the hand towel, and starts the water, steam quickly billowing from the faucet.
My gaze darts between him and the vibrator. “What are you doing?”
“I owe you a birthday present.”
He runs the vibrator under the scalding hot water, and maybe he’s warming it, but he’s definitely sanitizing it. Is he…?
My mouth falls open. “And what are you giving me?”