Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 93312 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93312 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
The bell rings, announcing the end of the day, pulling me from my thoughts. I stand, gathering my things, and when I walk out into the hall, I’m surprised to find that Holden’s not magically there, waiting for me. Good. Maybe he’s finally realizing I don’t need security detail at school, of all places. I make my way through the crowded hallway, heading to get my jacket out of my locker. It’s Friday, so I don’t want to leave it over the weekend.
People start to whisper and laugh, all eyes on me. Dread unfurls inside me. What now? I roll my eyes, pushing past them, but I stop short once I see why they’re reacting.
Brother Fucker is spray-painted in bold black letters across my locker. Instinctively, I search out Taylor. She might not have thrown a firebomb through my window, but this…this is her brand. And when I see her smug face, I know I’m right.
“Defacing a locker with spray paint and slut shaming? Lacks creativity and originality, but it is a classic mean girl move. I give it a solid C.”
“If the shoe fits,” she preens.
Anger boils in my gut, and I feel myself reaching my breaking point. There’s only so much a person can take before they finally snap. I crowd her space, backing her up toward the row of lockers on the opposite side of the hall.
“You’re pathetic.”
“Me?” she shrieks, her eyebrows hitting her hairline. “You’re the one who’s obsessed with your stepbrother. Seriously, Shayne. It’s creepy.”
Heat crawls up my neck and to the tips of my ears. I drop my backpack and shove her shoulders. Her back slams against the lockers, eyes widening, mouth dropping open in shock. “Fuck with me again, Taylor,” I say through gritted teeth, “and I promise you, it will be the last time.”
Don’t hit her, don’t hit her, don’t hit her.
“What, are you going to have your brother kill me, too?”
I’m going to hit her.
I curl my fingers into a fist before sending it straight into her perfect little nose. Taylor’s head slams against the locker, and then she’s cupping her nose in shock as a chorus of gasps and cheers alike fill the halls. She looks at me in disbelief for a second, then she snaps into action, screaming like a banshee as she lunges for me.
A pair of arms come around my waist, pulling me away.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Holden says. “Calm down, killer.” He bends down to scoop up my backpack, throwing it over his shoulder. All eyes are on us as Taylor stands there, chest heaving. She’s embarrassed. Most likely infuriated. But she crossed the line.
“You’re done,” he says, pointing a finger in Taylor’s face.
“Holden—”
“Let’s go,” he says to me, ignoring her as he ushers me down the hall with his hand on my lower back. A teacher pokes his head out of a classroom, looking for the source of the commotion, but we keep walking toward the double doors that lead to the student lot.
I push the door open, but the heavy wind blows it open even wider. The sky is dark with an impending storm, the clouds rolling in. Thayer’s car is noticeably absent, and I’m relieved that I have a few minutes to collect myself before I have to see him. My heart is pounding. I’ve never hit anyone like that before, and I hate that I did. Not because she didn’t deserve it, but because that’s exactly what she wanted from me. She wanted to get under my skin, to get a reaction from me, and I handed it to her on a silver platter.
We jump into Holden’s Range Rover and pull out of the parking lot, making the short drive to Whittemore. Thayer’s Hellcat is parked in the circular driveway and Holden pulls up behind it, throwing the car into park before looking over at me.
“How’s your hand?”
“It hurts,” I grumble.
He chuckles, stepping out of the car. I open my door and jump down, my shoes crunching against the gravel as I follow Holden up the steps. He heads straight for the kitchen where Thayer stands at the counter, eating a sandwich.
“The fuck happened?”
“Shayne punched Taylor in the face,” Holden says with all the glee of a five-year-old tattling to his mom.
Thayer’s eyebrows jump, his expression amused.
“She deserved it.” I shrug.
“She had it coming,” Holden agrees, reaching over to steal the remaining half of Thayer’s sandwich, but he smacks his hand away.
“What’d she do?”
Holden relays what happened from the locker to the comment about Grey, and Thayer’s dark green eyes meet mine in silent question. I shrug. I don’t think she actually knows about us. I think she’s bitter that I’m in their good graces again and threw out a rumor that just happens to be true.
“You good?” Thayer asks.
“Of course.” I gnaw on my lip, nodding. Why wouldn’t I be good? It’s not like I’m having a secret affair with my ex-stepbrother who thinks my actual brother killed his brother while someone is out to get me, and catty bitches are calling me brother fucker in front of the entire school.