I doubt I’d ever be comfortable with Mom remarrying. No guy will ever replace my dad. Period. But, one way or another, I’ll be leaving within the year, and Mom’s still young. I can’t dictate how she spends the rest of her life.
If it was genuine, and it was anyone other than Neo, I know I’d eventually come to terms with it.
But I will never be okay with this.
Especially when she’s moving that asshole into our house this week.
I keep waiting for her to admit the rest, but she hasn’t, and that doesn’t give me a warm and cozy feeling. If I felt she was telling me the full truth, and that I could trust her one hundred percent, I might fess up.
But the awful truth is, I don’t trust her not to run to him and tell him everything, and he can’t know I know. Because then everything I’ve worked toward, everything I’m planning, will all be for nothing.
I’m in this alone.
Like I’ve always been.
Dad helped me a lot, but our motivations were different. We were both keeping secrets from one another, and I know he wouldn’t want this for me, because it’s risky and dangerous, but I have no choice. I won’t run and hide for the rest of my life because that’s not living.
I force my troubled thoughts from my mind as I settle on a bench between Sean, Sariah, and Emmett to watch the takedown on the field after classes have ended on Tuesday. Practically the whole school has turned out for this, and the stadium is almost full.
I’ve only just plonked my butt on the seat when a tall guy with a dull black hoodie pulled up over his head approaches. “Saint has a seat for you at the front,” he says without extending a greeting.
I shove my middle finger up. “You can tell him that’s my response.”
He folds his arms, looking bored. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way.”
My lips kick up as I stand. “What does the hard way look like?”
He moves to scoop me up, and I punch him in the face. Blood spurts from his nose as he winces. He glares at me, not so passive now. “I’m not opposed to hitting girls,” he threatens, reaching for me again. “Don’t tempt me.”
I kick him swiftly in his left shin, and his leg buckles. He drops to his knees on the concrete step, cussing as he grabs the edge of the bench to steady himself.
I jerk my head up at the sound of running footsteps. “Always so ladylike, princess,” Caz Evans says, smirking. He extends a hand to the guy on the floor, yanking him to his feet. “Incapacitated by a female.” Disgust washes over his handsome face as he shakes his head. “The shame.” He shoves at him. “Get the fuck back down there, and try to at least pretend you’ve got a pair of balls between your legs.”
I sit back down, feigning ardent interest in the two groups lining up across from one another on the field down below.
Caz sits on the end of the bench, half on top of me, forcing me to shunt over until my thigh is pressed right up against Sariah’s. “I don’t fold so easily,” Caz says, cracking his knuckles as he shoots me a devilish grin. “And I thought you were smarter than this.” He levels me with an all-seeing look.
“Go fuck yourself.”
“I’d rather fuck you.” His tongue darts out, playing with his lip ring in a way that’s hugely distracting. His eyes are like furnaces as they skim me from head to toe, and I work hard not to squirm as my core throbs with need.
What is it with these guys? One heated look and they render me senseless. It’s official—I’ve turned into one of those idiot girls in romance books who falls apart when faced with a hot guy.
It’s embarrassing, and I’m glad no one has a hotline to my inner thoughts.
I press my mouth to his ear. “The only way your dick will ever enter my body again is if I’m laid out stone cold and bloodless on a morgue table.”
“I’ve never given necrophilia much thought,” he admits, running a hand through his jet-black hair, “but I’m game for trying anything once.” He grins, his chocolate-colored eyes alight with mischief, and it pisses me off.
“Get lost, Evans. Haven’t you got some buttheads to beat on the field?” I jerk my head to where things are heating up. Finn and Saint are locked in an intense conversation, with their supporters lined up behind them, flexing their arms, rolling their necks, and clenching their hands as they prepare to beat the shit out of one another.
Something cold slips over my skin, and I jerk my hands back, but I’m too late. Caz has already secured the handcuffs around both my wrists. Grabbing me by the shoulders, he yanks me to my feet. “Don’t get involved,” he warns Sean and Emmett as they stand along with Sariah. “Harlow is Sainthood property. She’s ours to do with as we please.” He steps out of the row, gesturing for me to follow.
“Eat shit.” I kick the side of his leg with my booted foot. Caught off guard, he stumbles forward, grabbing the guy in front to stop himself from falling.
His nostrils flare as he straightens up, all humor gone, and he roughly grabs my hair, yanking my head back at an awkward angle. “I’m running out of patience, princess. Stop. Fucking. Fighting.” He leans in to my ear. “Unless you want me to tell your bestie you’re hiding shit from her.”
He’s bluffing. He doesn’t know what I have and haven’t told my best friend. And he doesn’t know the extent of all I’m hiding. No one does.
However, the Saints trade in secrets. And they have the resources to dig deep. I can’t take any chances. If Sariah finds out what I’ve done, she’ll never look at me the same way again.
So, I shut my mouth and let Caz drag me down the steps, in front of the whole student body, thrusting me at some goon when we step foot onto the field. “Keep her there.” He points at the bench by the sidelines. “Sit on her if you have to.”
“Hey, asshole,” I shout at his retreating back. “Forgetting something?” I raise my cuffed hands.
He turns around, walking backward as he faces me, showcasing a wide grin. “I happen to like that look on you. Suck it up, princess.”
I hide my irritation, claiming a seat at the end of the bench, deciding I might as well settle in for the show.
I keep my eyes peeled, my gaze roaming the two gangs squaring off on the field, committing faces to memory. Both gangs have at least twenty supporters backing them up today, and I know, in the Saints’ case, that’s only the tip of the iceberg. The guys don’t typically handle the grunt work themselves. They have access to a large gang they can call on when needed, and most of those guys stick to the shadows.
It doesn’t take long for the violence to start, and I’m riveted as I watch the guys annihilate Finn’s pathetic little school gang with minimal effort.
Saint, Galen, and Caz are lethal. Pounding the enemy into a bloody pulp while barely raising a sweat. Theo is no lightweight either, and what he lacks in body mass and strength he makes up for in pure rage. It’s not difficult to see the broken, lost boy hiding beneath his bad boy façade.
Parker screams and shouts from the other sideline, but she’s too far away for me to hear what she’s saying. From the way she’s throwing her hands around and stomping her feet, I know she realizes she’s on the losing team. I wonder how long it’ll take her to switch sides and how Saint will react to that.