“Yeah, that's on my list. But there's a more pressing issue I want to take care of first.”
“What?” I have no idea what he could be talking about.
Yes you do.
Paying his debt and getting his life together seems like the most important thing to me. The last thing he needs is the cops coming after him to throw him back behind bars for failure to pay his dues.
“Revenge.” The word roll off his tongue easily, smoothly, with power and determination. He's been thinking about this for a long time, I can see it in his eyes.
“On Walter? I thought that shit ended that night.” My eyes drop to my hands, and I pick at my fingers. “You should just leave it alone, Harlow. I—”
“Walt?” he asks with a laugh, his tone a mix of humor of confusion. “It's not Walter, Max. I mean, fuck that guy, and the bitch who left me for him, but he's not the one I'm after.”
“Then who? Who else is there?”
A thin smile spreads across his face, the corners reaching up to his ears. I watch his eyes change, they darken, like black pools as he says, “Prairie Westmin.”
My heart stops.
My breathing stops.
My brain stops.
Harlow grins wide, a big sinister smile as he taps the side of the glass bottle with his fingers. His eyes aren't the same eyes I remember. They're emptier, hollower, regretless.
Licking his lips, my brother presses his chest against the edge of the table, his glare stern and showing no room for reason. His mind is set, and I'm not going to be able to change it.
“That cunt needs to learn a lesson, Max, she needs to learn to keep her nose out of our business. She's a snitch, and snitches don't fuck with us without paying a price.”
The immense pressure sitting on my chest is making it hard to breathe. I don't know where he's going to take this idea of revenge, but I do know one thing; he doesn't plan on doing it alone.
He plans on having me help.
How the hell am I going to do this?
How do I help my brother, but not hurt the girl I'm falling for?
How do I pretend to hate the same person I know is bringing me back to life?
Harlow will never understand what's happening between Prairie and me. He's a blood stands by blood kind of guy. Old fashioned in his ideals of what a family means.
Now I have to find a way to keep her safe and keep him out of trouble.
Because I can't lose my brother again, but I won't lose her. I'm not ready to give her back.
I have a choice to make. But neither one is fair.
10
Prairie
The phone rings and rings, until it's finally picked up by the generic answering machine. The smile I'm wearing, and the excitement in my belly, quickly fade when Max doesn't answer another one of my calls.
What the hell is going on with him lately?
Checking my text messages, there's still nothing from him. I don't want to sound like the annoying, overbearing girlfriend, but I haven't been able to reach him since yesterday.
I know Max is one those people that doesn't like labels, he isn't the type of guy who wants to feel tied down, or like he has to report to someone. And I get that. At least I'm trying to get it.
Something's wrong. I feel it in my gut. He's different somehow, and I'm not sure why.
Tucking my phone in my back pocket, I pull my math book from my locker, and shut the door.
Walking through the hall right now is like trying to maneuver through a herd of penguins. Every kid is out, moving between classes, trying to get there on time.
“Are you excited?” Amy asks as she bumps into me on purpose in the hall. She's holding her books against her chest, and her eyes are bursting with excitement.
“For what?” I ask.
“Uh, for this weekend, duh. What, did you forget already?”
“Forget what?” I'm racking my brain but coming up empty. I really don't have a clue, and she can see it on my face.
“Are you serious right now?” Rolling her eyes, she says, “Dress shopping, duh.” Grabbing my arm, Amy stops in the center of the hall, turning me to face her. “What's going on with you? You all right? Because there's no way that you forgot our plans, especially because Max actually agreed to go. Which is mind blowing honestly. . .”
I can feel the wind from people darting by on either side of me as they split like the Red Sea around us. Amy is rambling on and on about Max, about how he never goes to anything, and people are already talking because he was at Chad's party.
I'm half listening to her, half searching the hall for Max, but her words mostly go in one ear and out the other.
Where the hell is he?
My eyes dart between faces, moving from one person to the next. I'm desperately missing his eyes, his scent, the way my hand feels wrapped up in his. There's an ache in my chest with each passing day, with each missed call, and unanswered text.
It's been two days—two days since he's been to school. Max is a guy who flies by his own rules, but this is hard to stomach.
“Right?” Amy asks.
I nod, not sure what it is I'm agreeing with. “Yeah, right, definitely.”
She smiles, pleased with the response, so I know that's at least what she wants to hear. “Anyway,” she keeps going, waving a lazy hand in the air. “I'm still waiting for Bentley to ask me.” She takes the first step forward, breaking our dam in the center of the hall.
Right, prom.
Walking at her side, I think about what she's saying. Amy is waiting on him to come to her, something I didn't even bother doing with Max. I took the jump first, maybe she should take her own advice.
“What if he doesn't?” I ask her, keeping my eyes on hers.
Amy crooks her jaw, tipping her head into her shoulder. “Don't even say that. He will, I know he will. I've put out enough feelers, Ben knows I'm interested.”
“I'm just saying, what if he doesn't? Are you going to ask him yourself?”
Her eyes flick around my face like I've lost my mind. “Never ask the guy, Prairie, you never ask the guy. They're supposed to come to you, that's how this works.”
“But, you're the one who told me to ask Max.” My jaw hangs open in disbelief. What kind of friend gives advice they don't believe in?
“Max is different, he's not a typical guy.” Her tone is limp, like it should be obvious to me that Max doesn't fall into the normal guy category. “Besides, I didn't think you'd actually do it, or that he'd say yes. You got bigger balls than me, that's for sure.” The bell rings, and she looks up at the clock on the wall. “We're gonna be late to class, come on.” Grabbing my arm, she pulls me toward the gym.
Amy is still talking, describing the dress she wants to look for when we go shopping, what color suits her skin tone, and how much cleavage her father is allowing—which is none.
I'm trying to be a good friend, listening to bits and pieces, but I can't follow everything she's saying. My head isn't in prom mode, I really don't give a shit at all about the dress right now.
Is he avoiding me?
Why won't he answer or call me back?