Here are the added chapters to lengthened edition of Chasing Hadley (Chasing the Harlyton Sisters, #1) for those who didn’t read the lengthened edition.

Please read Author’s note for more information on this section.

Chapter 16

It takes me forever to fall asleep that night, and when I do, I sink into nightmares of the day my mom skidded off the road. The nightmare always plays out just like the memory of that day and always ends with that scream. I’m not even sure who the scream belonged to, yet the sound is branded into my mind like a hot iron searing flesh. I end up awakening before my alarm goes off with the sound of the scream echoing in my head.

Since the sun hasn’t even risen yet, I try to go back to sleep, knowing I’m going to need my rest to deal with Blaise and his favors. Unfortunately, my mind’s too wired and focused on that damn bag in the backyard.

Is my dad working for a drug dealer now? That’d mean Blaise’s dad is a drug dealer, which I guess could be possible.

There is another scenario, though. One that makes me restless with worry.

What if my dad stole the money and drugs from someone? Someone who’s going to be awfully pissed off when they find out.

My stomach clenches in knots. What if the latter is true? What if my dad stole from, like, a drug lord or something? What if the drug lord comes after my sisters and me to get back at my dad?

“Fuck,” I whisper, raking my fingers through my hair. “I need to chill out and stop overthinking this. Just find out the truth.”

How am I supposed to do that? My dad sure as hell isn’t going to tell me the truth. He hardly tells the truth anymore.

After half an hour of lying in bed, staring at the cracked ceiling, listening to Londyn snore, and stressing myself out, I give up on going back to sleep. I throw the blankets off, grab some clothes, and head to the bathroom to take a shower.

Since my family is fairly late risers, I figure everyone is still asleep, so when my dad steps out of his bedroom as I’m about to walk into the bathroom, I assume he’s coming into the house from an all-night bender. Then I notice he’s dressed in clean clothes, his face is freshly shaven, and his hair is combed. He’s also digging around in his pocket for something.

“Are you just getting home or heading out somewhere?” I ask, grasping the bathroom doorknob.

He jolts, dropping whatever he dug out of his pocket. “Shit, you scared me.” Exhaling a shaky breath, he scoops up the dropped object—a set of keys—then straightens and uses a key to lock up his bedroom door, fumbling a little like he’s nervous. “You’re up early.”

“Yeah, so are you.” I eyeball the deadbolt on his door that wasn’t there when we moved in. “Did you just install that lock?”

He nods, stuffing the keys into his pocket. “Yeah, last night.”

“Why?”

“Because I want some privacy.”

“You say that like we snoop around in your room all the time.”

His digs a pack of cigarettes out of the front pocket of his jacket, pops one into his mouth, and lights up. “Not all the time, but I know you guys do sometimes,” he says through a cloud of smoke. “I’ve caught Payton going through my stuff a couple times. She needs to stop doing that. What’s in my room is none of her damn business.”

I raise a brow. “Like you haven’t ever gone through our stuff?”

He takes another drag. “I’m the parent. I’m allowed to go through my daughters’ stuff if I think I need to.”

“The only reason you ever do is to steal money from us,” I accuse, beyond irritated with him. Not just for what he’s saying, but for locking the door.

First the bag in the backyard and now this? Just what is he up to?

Nothing good, I’m sure.

He ashes the cigarette onto the carpet with a hurt expression. “I’ve never stolen from you girls. I’m glad you think so lowly of me.”

I almost feel bad. A couple days ago, I may have. Now I’m starting to get really tired of his crap.

“We used to not think that lowly of you,” I admit. “But yeah, I’m not going to lie, lately, with the stuff you’ve been doing, my opinion of you has gone way down.”

“Lately?” he questions. “All I’ve done lately is work to take care of you guys.”

I resist an eye roll. Take care of us? He hasn’t taken care of us since we lost our mom.

“You’ve had a steady job for a week, Dad, and God knows what the hell you’re doing since you won’t tell us where you work.”

He shakily inhales from the end of his cigarette. “I work at the hardware store as a clerk.”

Yeah right. I know he’s lying. “If that’s true, then why didn’t you just tell me that last week when I asked?”

He lifts his shoulder, taking another drag. “Because you shouldn’t be worrying about what I do … Sometimes I think you forget who the parent is.”

“I understand you’re my father, but as for a parent …” I suck in a breath. “Look, Dad, I’m eighteen now, and honestly, I’ve been taking care of myself and Londyn, Bailey, and Payton for years, so you may be our dad by blood, but as for the parent of this household, that’s my job.”

His lips part then shut. Then he shakes his head and storms toward the stairway. “I don’t have time to argue with you, Hadley. I’m going to be late for work.” He starts down the stairway, but then pauses and glances over his shoulder at me. “I’m going to be home late, but …” He scratches the back of his neck. “Do you guys want to meet me someplace for dinner?”

I stare at him, unsure if I heard him correctly. “You want us to go out to dinner with you?”

He nods, his arm falling to his side. “Yeah, I thought it might be nice to go out as a family. We haven’t done that in a while, right?” He tries for a smile “It might be nice.”

While the gesture is nice of him, we haven’t had a family dinner with him in over eight years, and I really doubt any of my sisters are going to want to. Plus, with everything going on, I think it might be best to distance ourselves away from Dad.

He must read my hesitation all over my face, because he says, “Come on. Please say yes. I feel like I haven’t talked to you girls in forever.”

That’s because he hasn’t. Not about anything other than when our next move is.

“I won’t take no for an answer,” he adds, popping the end of his half-smoked cigarette into his mouth. “I’ll text you the address of the place later, okay?” Then he hurries down the stairway before I can decline his offer.

Sighing heavily, I turn for the bathroom. Between dealing with Blaise this morning and my dad tonight, it’s going to be a tough day.

***

Sometimes when I’m having a bad day, I visualize myself graduating and being handed my diploma. Then I say goodbye to my sisters, hop into my car, and drive off to college without so much as a second glance back. Today, though, the images aren’t bringing me as much comfort, and I think I know why.

Between the almost-skid-off-the-road incident yesterday and that bag being in the backyard, I’m not feeling the whole peace-out-old-life vibe. No, before I could ever leave, I’d have to make sure my dad hasn’t … well, I’m not certain how to finish that sentence.

Needless to say, by the time I stroll up to Blaise’s front door, I’m past being irritated and breezing right into don’t-mess-with-me-because-I’m-pissed-off-at-my-shithead-father territory, something Blaise notices the second he opens the door.

“Wow, somebody doesn’t look very happy to be here,” he remarks, leaning against the doorframe with his arms folded.

Strangely, his stupid smirk isn’t present. Not strange, he’s dressed in black pants and a matching T-shirt. Seriously, it’s like the Porterson brothers’ trademark look.

“Can we please just cut the small talk and get straight to whatever the hell it is you want me to do?” I bite out bitterly.

He straightens, adjusting the leather bands covering his wrists. “Will you relax? I’m not going to have you do anything bad.”

“I highly doubt that.” I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “And besides, who said my bad mood has anything to do with you?”

A pucker forms between his brows. “You act like I’d be upset me if it wasn’t about me.”

“Don’t pretend you don’t get off on pissing me off.”

He rubs his lips together, wrestling back a smile. “Okay, maybe I do get off on it a little.”

I roll my eyes. “Of course you do. I knew that from the moment I met you.”

“That I’d get off on pissing you off?” His amusement magnifies.

“No, that you’re the kind of guy who gets off on pissing girls off.”

His smile dissolves. “That’s not who I am at all.”

“Liar.” Sure, I may have discovered last night he didn’t slash my tires or put up those flyers, but that doesn’t erase the times he’s purposely tried to grate under my skin. “You’re totally the type of guy to get off on getting girls riled up. I can tell.”

He shakes his head, strands of blond hair falling into his eyes. “Nope. I actually just do it with you.”

My lip twitches in annoyance. “Why? Because I rejected you the first time we met? If so, that’s really fucked up.”

He gives a nonchalant shrug, his posture a bit stiff. “It wasn’t just because of the rejection.”

“Then, what else was it about?” I pry, curious if it has to do with why Alex loathes my family. If it has anything to do with my dad working for their dad.

All he does is offer me another shrug and, “You just bring that side out of me, I guess.”

“So, you’re putting the blame on me?”

“No. What I’m saying is that you do seem to get off on pissing me off, too.”

My mouth opens with a comeback, but then I zip my lips shut, realizing he’s right. “Okay, maybe I do … a bit.”

“Hmmm …” He rubs his jawline. “I wonder why that is.” His tone carries insinuation. Why, who the hell knows?

I give a nonchalant shrug. “Probably because you’re the most annoying person I’ve ever met.”

“And you’re the most stubborn girl I’ve ever met,” he quips. Then he steps aside and motions for me to come in. “So, stubborn girl, quit stalling and come inside so you can complete your first favor.”

I step over the threshold, arching my brow at him as I pass. “Please don’t say you’re going to start calling me stubborn girl now.”

He bumps the door shut. “You wanted me to stop calling you sweetheart, didn’t you?”

I waver my head from side to side. “Yeah, I guess so.”

He smiles as he lightly tugs on a stand of my hair. “So, stubborn girl it is.” Then he takes off toward a hallway. “I’ll be right back. I just have to grab my stuff.”

Before I can ask what he’s grabbing, he disappears down the hallway.

I’m left standing alone in his living room, which is surprisingly clean. The furniture is decent, too, way better than anything my family owns. The Portersons also have a flat screen television, an item my family hasn’t owned in a while, ever since my dad took ours and pawned it. He tried to lie about it when I confronted him, but I found the receipt in his pocket while I was doing the laundry. He never would admit what he did with the extra cash, which I guess is kind of his MO. Well, that and getting drunk.

Talk about a great father figure.

Sighing audibly, I trudge over to the sofa to sit down when Rhyland comes wandering into the room, carrying a bowl of cereal. His hair is damp, as if he just got out of the shower, and he’s wearing black jeans and a blue T-shirt.

Huh. So they do own different colored clothing.

He pauses mid-bite when his gaze lands on me. “Hey.” He lowers the spoon from his mouth and wipes a dribble off milk off his chin with the back of his hand. “You’re here early.”

“Because I was ordered to be.” My tone comes out light instead of bitter, like I was aiming for.

Man, I really must be tired.

He smiles, relaxing as he plops down on the leather sofa and kicks his feet up onto the table. “Glad to see you’re being chill about the bet.” He stuffs another bite of cereal into his mouth then pats the cushion, indicating for me to sit down. “Alex thought you’d bail out of this whole favors thing.”

Rolling my eyes, I take a seat. “Of course he did.”

“I didn’t, though,” Rhyland clarifies with an easy smile.

I twist to face him, bringing my knee up onto the cushion between us. “Oh yeah? And why’s that?”

He raises a shoulder. “You don’t seem like the type to back down. Yesterday proves that.”

“True.” I can’t tell if he’s insulting me or not.

“That’s a good thing,” he assures me, as if reading my mind. “At least, I think so.” He rotates, facing me. “I have to say, after watching you race, I definitely think you should start racing on weekends.”

“Why?” I question. “I didn’t even win against your brother.”

“Yeah, but you’ve got mad skills. Seriously, a lot of people would’ve overcorrected when they hit that patch of gravel, but you handled it like a fucking boss.”

I shrug, my stomach getting queasy at the reminder of how I almost walked in my mom’s footsteps yesterday. “I’ve had a lot of practice.”

“With almost skidding road?” he teases with a smile.

I roll my tongue in my mouth, trying not to smile back. “No, with racing.”

His phone buzzes from inside his pocket, and he digs it out. “How long have you been doing it?” he asks, frowning at something on the screen.

I wonder what’s on his phone that’s got him looking all Charlie Brown.

“Since I got my driver’s license. But I started going to drag races when I was, like, four.” There I go again. Talking about my life aloud to a Porterson. Have I not learned my lesson?

His gaze elevates to mine in surprise. “Since you were four? Holy shit, that’s young.”

A slow breath eases from my lips. “My mom was into it and wanted me to be into it, too. Guess it worked.”

“She was?” he asks with a hint of pity.

My chest tightens a bit. “She died a while ago.”

“I’m so sorry.” His Adam’s apple bobs up and down as he swallows hard. “That’s got to be hard. To lose your parent at such a young age, I mean. Blaise and Jaxon’s mom died when they were both young. My mom actually raised them. Well, until Blaise was old enough to get guardianship of us. That was one of the best day of our lives.”

Wow. No wonder I couldn’t find anything online about Blaise’s mom. I feel bad for him and Jaxon, and kind of for Rhyland and Alex, too. If their eighteen-year-old brother got guardianship of them, things with their mom had to be super effed up.

“What was the best day of your life?” Blaise asks as he re-enters the room, his gaze dancing back and forth between Rhyland and me, and his lips sinking into a frown.

“The day you became my dad.” Rhyland grins as he rises to his feet.

Blaise rolls his eyes. “How many times have I told you guys not to call me that? You’re almost as old as me.”

“Which is why we do it.” Rhyland walks up to Blaise and whispers something quietly enough that I can’t hear.

Blaise grimaces, grinding his teeth from side to side. “Fine, I’ll handle it.”

“Sorry, man. I’d do it myself, but you know he won’t be as cooperative if I go.” Rhyland pats Blaise on the shoulder then smiles genuinely at me. “Thanks for talking to me this morning, Hadley. We should make it our morning routine for the next month.”

“Am I going to have to come over here every morning?” I direct my question to Blaise.

“Maybe,” he replies distractedly, fumbling to get his keys out of his pocket. Then he turns for the door, nodding for me to follow.

As I trudge after him, Rhyland whispers to me, “Go easy on him this morning, okay? He’s really stressed out about some stuff and is having a rough morning.” He doesn’t wait for me to nod, just waves and takes off down the hallway.

“You coming?” Blaise asks grumpily from the doorway

My initial instinct is to fire a snarky remark at him, but Rhyland’s words replay in my head, so I end up just nodding. Call me a softy, but I have a tender spot for people who are stressed out, especially eighteen-year-olds who have guardianship over their younger brothers, and maybe his sister, too.

While mine and Blaise’s stories aren’t exactly the same, they’re pretty close. What I wonder, though, is: how did he get guardianship of his siblings? Not just in the sense of legal terms, but what led him to the point where things were so bad that he decided he needed to become a parent at eighteen? It’s kind of remarkable when I really think about it, and tragically sad at the same time. That he had to do something so selfless—giving up his future for his siblings. And as much as I’ve despised Blaise over the last week or so, I question if he’s a better person than me in some ways.

Because, while I may ponder the idea of getting guardianship of my sisters, I’ve never actually looked into it, even with how bad my dad is getting. Instead, I’ve been daydreaming of taking off. Of making my life better.

Does that make me a bad person? A selfish one?

I’m not sure, but the thought makes a heavy amount of guilt weigh down on my shoulders.

Chapter 17

Blaise and I spend the next ten minutes silently driving toward town in his SUV. He doesn’t even turn the radio on to fill the silence. I’m left wanting to bang my head against the window. Seriously, I’m getting so desperate I’m even starting to miss arguing with him. Plus, he hasn’t told me where we’re going.

About fifteen minutes into the drive, Blaise receives a text. After reading the message, he mutters, “Fuck, he’s worse than I thought.” Then he drops his phone into the cupholder and grows quiet again.

Finally, I can’t take the maddening silence and uncertainty anymore.

“So, are you going to tell me where we’re going and what I’ll be doing for you?”

His jaw is set tight as he focuses on the road. “I’m still deciding what part I’m going to have you play in this. As for where we’re going, it’s to a house Alex is at.”

Okay, evasive much?

“And why are we going there?” I check the time on the dashboard clock. “And how long is this going to take? I’m supposed to drive my sisters to school this morning.”

“Shit, I didn’t even think about that.” He rakes his fingers through his hair then gives me a sidelong glance. “Can Londyn maybe drive them? This might take a bit.”

“How long is a bit? Because school starts in less than an hour.”

He rubs his lips together. “Yeah, you might be a little late.”

“Being late to school wasn’t part of the deal,” I stress. “And I can’t be late. Not after being tardy to all my morning classes yesterday, and then skipping out on the last half of the day.”

He looks at me with one hand resting on the wheel. “Yeah, I noticed you weren’t in last period. What was that about?”

“We have last period together?” I ask, and he nods. I’m not sure whether to frown or not. I don’t know how I feel about him after what I heard last night and with what Rhyland just told me.

Conflicted. That’s what I am. Conflicted because he sometimes seems like a nice guy, yet seems like an asshole other times.

The edges of his lips kick up into a smile, but his eyes remain clouded with worry. “Aw, come on. You don’t need to look so sad about it. I promise not to bug you too much. Or, well, at least I’ll try not to.”

“I’m not sad,” I reply with a shrug. “I’m undecided.”

His brow meticulously arches. “About what exactly?”

“About having you in my classes.”

“Hmmm … Interesting.”

“No, not really.”

He assesses me closely. “Actually, it sort of is.”

I refuse to squirm under his unwavering gaze. “And why’s that?”

He shrugs, refocusing on the road. “Because, if you’re undecided about me being in another one of your classes, it means you’re undecided about me.”

“And that’s a good thing because …?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know.”

“Okay …” God, this is the most evasive conversation ever.

We grow silent again as Blaise stares at the road, drumming his fingers on top of the steering wheel. Since it clearly seems like he doesn’t want to talk or give me any sort of confirmation about how long we’re going to be or what we’re even doing, I dig out my phone and send Londyn a text.

Me: Hey, so I’m gonna need you to drive everyone to school today.

Londyn: What!? Why?

Me: Because my first favor is going to probably take too long for me to get back in time.

Londyn: That’s so not cool. You need to make sure Blaise understands that you can’t be late for school.

Me: Yeah, I’ll try.

Londyn: Don’t try. Do.

Me: All right, boss.

Londyn: Sorry. I’m not trying to be bossy, but we can’t let these guys walk all over us.

Me: Hey! Think about who you’re talking to. You know there’s no way I’ll let that happen. Blaise just didn’t inform me until we were way across town that this favor is going to take a while. But I made it clear being late for school is so not cool with me.

Londyn: Good. You may be in some stupid, twisted bet with him, but that doesn’t mean he gets to mess up school for you. And what are you even doing for him?

Me: Not sure yet, but I think it has something to do with Alex.

Londyn: You need to be careful then. He’s the worst. I know he’s the one who put those flyers up.

Me: Yeah, me, too.

I want to tell her about the conversation I overheard last night between Alex and Blaise, but I don’t want to think about it myself.

We text for a bit longer until she finally agrees to drive everyone, and by the time I pocket my phone, Blaise is driving past the last of the houses lining the main road and steering out onto the highway.

“We’re really far out here,” I comment, glancing at the trees and desolate farmland bordering the road.

Shit, should I be worried? I mean, I’m a girl in a car alone with a guy who has a questionable police record. Sure, I know some self-defense, but that doesn’t mean I want to put myself in a situation where I’d have to try to use my skills.

“I’m sorry. This is probably really weird. I know that.” Blaise slows down and flips on the blinker. “I promise nothing bad’s going to happen. Or, well, at least not to you. Alex, on the other hand, is about to get into some deep shit.” He turns down a dirt road that winds into the hills.

“Why?” I ask, gripping the handle above me as the road becomes bumpy. “What’d he do?”

He grips the wheel tighter as we hit another bump. “Nothing he hasn’t done before, which is why I’m so pissed off. He never fucking learns his lessons.” He blows out a deafening breath, his gaze sliding to mine. “Look, for my first favor, can you just not tell anyone what you’re about to witness?”

My nerves rise a notch. “Um, yeah … just as long as it’s not like a hardcore crime where someone’s hurting someone, then yeah, I can do that.”

“The only person getting hurt is Alex, and he’s doing it to himself,” he replies tightly, his knuckles whitening on the wheel.

I should feel better. Not telling anyone about this seems like an easy enough favor. And I shouldn’t care that Alex is hurting himself—the guy is a jerk. But the look in Blaise’s eyes … the self-tormenting guilt over something he can’t control … yeah, I’ve been there. With my sisters. With my father. Even with myself sometimes.

I swallow down the pain creeping up on me the best I can as Blaise parks in front of a singlewide trailer at the end of the bumpy road. The siding is peeling off, all the windows are boarded up, and half the roof is covered up with a tarp. The landscaping isn’t any better-looking either; the grass yellowing and covered in old car parts and tires. I’ve lived in my fair share of dumpy places and areas, but this house gives all those a run for their money. I mean, at least the homes we lived in had roofs.

“So, whose place is this?” I wonder as Blaise silences the engine.

He makes no move to get out, resting his arms on top of the steering wheel as he stares at the trailer. “It’s an … acquaintance of my father’s.”

“Oh.” His infamous father, the criminal who my dad might be working for. Lovely.

Blaise’s gaze skates to me. “From your tone, I’m guessing you’ve heard about my dad.”

“Well, I did read all that stuff about your family. The internet seems to have a lot to say about him,” I reply nonchalantly.

“Yeah, I forgot you did that.” He studies me with mild curiosity. “How did you do that anyway? Break into those records?”

I tap my finger against my lips. “Now, why would I tell you my secrets?”

“Come on,” he pleads. “In fact, it can be my favor for this morning.”

I shake my head, tsking him. “Now, Blaise, you only get one a day, and you already used that one.”

“No one said I only get one a day.” When I still refuse to tell him, he sighs. “Fine, I’ll just ask you again tomorrow.”

“That’s really how you want to waste your favors?” I ask, digging my sunglasses out of my purse.

He shrugs, nibbling on his bottom lip as he surveys the trailer. “Seems like as good of a favor as any.”

“You know, you could always just ask Alex. I mean, I’m sure he can tell you all about my family’s secrets since he gathered all that info for the flyers.”

Wait. Why am I telling him this?

Dammit, I really should’ve grabbed some coffee before I left the house. I’m too tired.

Question marks flood his eyes. “You say that like I didn’t have any part of it, which I did.”

Liar. But his protective nature toward his brother is something I can respect, so I decide not to tell him I know the truth.

I pick at my fingernails. “Okay, then maybe you already know the answer.”

He examines me suspiciously. “What do you know?”

“I know a lot of things,” I assure him with a sugary sweet smile. “I’m super clever. But I’m sure you’ve already caught on to that. Well, if you’re clever, too.”

“No, you know something about my family,” he accuses. “I can tell.”

“Would it matter if I did? I mean, yesterday Alex said it didn’t matter if I told the entire school about your family’s dirty laundry. That people already know everything about your family, and that they respect you too much to do anything. So, what would babbling a dirty little secret about you guys matter?”

“That’s nowhere near the truth,” he grumbles. “Alex just likes to run his mouth, which usually gets him in trouble.”

“Trouble like this?” I nod at the house.

“No, this is trouble he does to himself.”

I think I’m starting to get the gist of what’s going on inside that trailer, why Blaise had to drive out here. I’m not that surprised. I’ve wondered a few times if Alex was strung out.

“What’s he on?” I dare ask.

“What’s he not on?” He sinks back into the seat and looks me straight in the eye. “Look, Hadley, you have to swear to me that you won’t tell anyone about this. I know Alex and I have treated you like shit, but I really need you to do me a solid right now and let what’s about to happen stay between you, me, and Alex, okay? I don’t even want Rhyland to know.”

“Rhyland doesn’t already know?”

“Well, he sort of does, but he doesn’t realize how bad Alex is getting. And honestly, I wouldn’t have even brought you out here if I’d known how bad he is going to be … When Rhyland first told me I needed to pick Alex up, I thought he was just hungover. But then Alex messaged me while I was driving up here and … I can tell he’s messed up pretty bad.” His gaze slides to me again, a silent plea filling his eyes. “Can you please just promise me you won’t say anything to anyone about this? Not even your sisters. Alex … he’s been in a lot of trouble, which I’m sure you already know, and if the wrong people find out what he’s messed up in …” He gulps. “Just promise me, okay?”

I wonder what he means by wrong people. The police? Yeah, I have a feeling there’s more to it than that. I could ask him, but with how hush-hush he’s acting right now, I doubt he’ll tell me.

“I said I wouldn’t tell anyone, and I meant it,” I assure him. “I may think your brother is an asshole, but I totally understand the whole protective sibling thing. Plus, my dad’s an alcoholic and drug addict, so I have a good idea of how this is going to go down.”

His brows furrow as he stares at me. “You’re different from what I first thought.”

“Okay …? Is that a good or bad thing?” Not that I care. I’m just curious.

“It’s an … undecided thing.”

“Touché, dude.”

That makes him chuckle, but only for a brief moment. Then he goes right back into worrying mode, a place I constantly reside.

Stillness surrounds us, and the longer her remains sitting in the car, the more I wonder what he’s waiting for.

“Are you going to go in there and get him?” I finally ask. “Or is he supposed to come out here?”

He checks his phone and frowns. “I’m sure I’m going to have to go in and drag his high-ass out. I’m just giving myself a moment to mentally prepare myself.”

“For having to deal with him?” That I can understand. I have to do it with my dad all the time.

“For that and for dealing with the other people inside.”

“You mean, your father’s acquaintances?”

He nods, stuffing his phone into his pocket. “They’re complicated to deal with.”

I rest back in the seat and tuck my legs underneath me. “Why?”

His brow curves upward as he glances at me. “You ask a lot of questions.”

“Not normally, but yeah, when someone drives me out to the middle of nowhere to what I’m guessing is a crack house, I start to get a little question-y.”

“It’s not a crack house,” he swears. “My dad actually owns the home and the land. He lets the people who work for him live here. He owns quite a few houses in Honeyton. All of them equally as shitty as this one, except his own.”

“Does he own your house?”

“No, my mom does … or, well, she did until …” He hastily clears his throat. “But yeah, once I turned eighteen, I became the official owner of the shithole that is my home.”

“That’s pretty cool that you own the place.”

“I guess.” He shrugs, sadness creeping into his expression. “Sometimes I wish I was living in some shitty apartment in some big-ass city, paying way too much for rent and spending my days doing … well, anything but this.” He clears his throat again then shoves open the door. “But yeah, anyway, I’m going to go drag Alex out. Be back in a minute … hopefully.” He jumps out and slams the door. Then I watch him hike across the grass to the front door. He knocks once then walks inside and closes the door behind him.

As I sit in the quietness of the SUV, waiting for him to come back out, I replay everything Blaise just said. Some of the stuff was, I think, accidental, like the part about wishing he lived somewhere else. I don’t know why he confided in me, even accidentally. Maybe because he’s overly stressed out? I can understand that. I’ve babbled crap I wanted to retract when my mind was overworked. Hell, I’ve done it while I was talking to Blaise and to Rhyland.

All questions aside, I think I learned something else this morning. That my initial impression of Blaise was incorrect. He may not be as big of a jerk as I originally assumed. Perhaps he was really just trying to protect his brother. Although, there were a few times I can’t blame his asshatery on Alex. Like the first time we met. Or the time he saved me from getting detention and thought I owed him. Or, and quite possibly the biggest, when he threw that kiss into the deal. Of course the kiss itself wasn’t awful. I’m never going to admit that aloud.

“Just exactly who are you, Blaise Porterson?” I mumble to myself as I stare at the house. “The cocky jerk I first met? Or the guy who’s in that house, taking care of his brother?”

The longer I analyze the questions, the more I become highly aware of something else. Something that makes me very uncomfortable.

I’m obsessing over a guy and breaking my own rules. How the hell did this happen? It’s not like I want to date Blaise, but I am thinking about him way too much.

“Get your shit together, Hadley,” I tell myself in a firm tone. “Stop worrying about Blaise and just focus on getting through this deal so you can go on with your life and your plans.”

To busy myself, I retrieve my phone and message Londyn.

Me: Everything go good this morning?

Londyn: Yep. We’re all good. Even Payton didn’t put up too much of a fuss about going. After yesterday, I thought she might, but she seemed okay. The only weird thing is that I tried to go into Dad’s room to grab the spare key to your car because I lost mine, and his door was locked.

Me: Yeah, I know. I caught him locking it up this morning. He seemed really sketchy about it, too, but that’s Dad for you. And FYI, Dad doesn’t have a spare key to my car anymore. I took it away that time he took my car and didn’t return it for three days.

Londyn: Oh! I’m so glad you did, but I wish you’d told me. Could have saved me some time this morning.

Me: Yeah, sorry about that. I put the spare key under my mattress. Are you guys still at the house? Because it’s late.

Londyn: No, we made it to school.

Me: Oh, did you find your key then?

Londyn: Not exactly.

Me: Okay … Did you get a ride with Dad then?

Londyn: Ha, what a funny joke.

I chuckle, yet I’m still confused.

Me: How did you get to school then? Did you walk?

Londyn: Well, we were going to, even though it was really late, but … Look, promise me you won’t get mad, because we did get to school on time and nothing bad happened.

I rest back in the seat and prop my feet onto the dash as I type.

Me: I’m not going to get mad. You’re responsible. I trust your judgment.

Londyn: But I may have screwed up a bit with this one, but only because I panicked about us all being late to school. I tried to call Hunter for a ride, because he’s like the only person I know in this town, but he didn’t answer, so I decided we were going to walk and just be late. But on our way out, someone else we sort of know saw us and asked if we needed a ride. At first, I declined because this person is a straight-up jerk. Or, well, he seemed that way at first, but then I realized we were going to be super late, and Bailey and Payton were complaining, and I panicked, and … I’m so sorry!

Me: Sorry for what? For accepting a ride? You’re acting really weird.

Londyn: Not just for accepting a ride. For accepting a ride from our neighbors.

Me: Wait. You got a ride with the Portersons?

Londyn: Yeah, Rhyland and Jaxon anyway. I’m sorry. I love you, and I’m still unsure about them. I just become a terrible decision-maker when I’m desperate. I’m so, so sorry. I feel like I stabbed you in the back. Please don’t hate me.

Me: Why would I hate you? You needed to find a ride to school, so you found one. And Rhyland and Jaxon don’t seem too terrible, I guess. Well, Rhyland doesn’t. Jaxon’s too quiet to tell for sure.

Londyn: I know, but still … I said all those bad things about them and told everyone we should stay away from them. I’m a complete hypocrite. And you made that bet so they’d leave us alone, and then we ended up being around them anyway.

Me: The bet wasn’t a waste. It gives us assurance that shit like the flyer incident won’t happen again. And besides, Alex was the main culprit behind that. And the tires. Not Rhyland or Jaxon.

Londyn: I know, but I still feel awful.

Me: Well, don’t. Part of being in charge is putting others’ needs before yours. You needed a ride, so you got a ride, and no one was late. You did good, sis.

Londyn: If you say so, but I still feel a bit like a traitor. At least tell me you’re doing okay. That Blaise hasn’t been too awful.

Me: I’m fine. And Blaise is okay, I guess. At least he’s been less cocky this morning.

Londyn: That’s good. Did you have to do the favor yet?

I hesitate. While I lie to my sisters a lot, it’s mostly to protect them. If I don’t tell her the truth now, though, it’s to protect Blaise and Alex. But I made a promise to Blaise, and since I understand that protective need toward my siblings, the idea of confessing his secret doesn’t feel right.

Me: Nah, not yet. But I think he’s probably just going to make me run in and get them coffee after we pick up Alex.

Londyn: Great, so he’s playing the servant card?

Me: I think so.

Londyn: I want to say I’m surprised, but I’m not. He’s such a jerk.

I should correct her, tell her that maybe he isn’t as horrible as we thought, but that would lead to a bunch of other questions that I’ll have to lie about. And since my tally for the day is going up really quickly, I decide to just let it drop.

Londyn: Crap, I have to go. Class is about to start. But you’re going to be here soon, right?

Me: Yeah, I’ll be there in a bit.

I hope.

After I finish texting Londyn, I sit in the SUV for another handful of minutes before I start to get really bored. And hot. Blaise left the windows rolled up and took the keys with him, and with the sun being fully risen, even though I wore a pair of shorts and a black T-shirt, the cab is starting to heat up fast. The more time that ticks by, the more my skin dampens with sweat.

I’d text Blaise, except I don’t have his number. I don’t have any of the Portersons’ digits.

About an hour in, I start to lose my cool. Not only is it stifling hot, but I’m miles away from town and it’s getting late.

“Fuck this shit.” I climb out of the car and stare down the driveway, trying to mentally calculate the distance back to town. It has to be at least a dozen miles.

I could always hotwire Blaise’s SUV, but I wouldn’t put it past him or Alex to call the cops on my thieving ass. Blaise never said I couldn’t go into the house, but it was sort of implied when he got out and didn’t invite me in. Then again, if he didn’t want me to go in, he shouldn’t have left me in the car for over an hour.

Squaring my shoulders, I march up to the house. Yeah, the place is beyond creep, and I’m not so sure I’m buying into it not being a crack house, but I’ve been to places like this before. A lot of times actually, needing to pick up my dad or settle a deal with someone my dad tried to screw over.

Payton also went through a phase about six months ago when she was spending a lot of time with a guy who was really into drugs. She swore to me she didn’t do any drugs with him, but that didn’t mean I just willingly let her hang out with him. No, she’d sneak off, and I’d have to drive to the dude’s house and drag her ass out kicking and screaming. He lived in a really sketchy area.

While I hate to judge this house by its torn-up side and lack of a roof, Blaise’s hesitation to go inside is enough for me to know that what’s on the inside isn’t going to be a welcome mat and a place smelling of freshly baked cookies.

But I got this.

I always got this.

Chapter 18

When I arrive at the front door, I muster up a deep breath, collect my shit, and knock.

“Who the fuck is that?” a voice snaps from the other side. “We weren’t expecting anyone else, were we?”

I wince, but I keep my feet planted to the ground.

“I sure as hell wasn’t,” someone yells back.

They grow quiet.

I knock again, harder this time.

“Fuck.” Someone lets out a string of curses, then the door is cracked open. A trail of smoke snakes outside as a guy peers out at me, his gaze sweeping up and down me. “Who the hell are you?”

“I’m a …” I almost say a friend of Blaise’s, but that doesn’t seem accurate. “Look, I drove up here with Blaise, and I really need to talk to him.”

The guy’s bloodshot eyes measure me up. “Why?”

“Because …” I shift my weight, feeling more uneasy than I’d like. “Can you just tell him to come here please? It’s an emergency.”

He gives a lengthy, very annoying pause, then steps back and opens the door. “I’ve got a better idea, sweetheart. How about you come inside and get him yourself?”

Every one of my muscles twitch at his use of sweetheart, but now that I have a very good view of this guy, I decide to bite my tongue, unlike when Blaise called me the same stupid pet name. Unlike Blaise, this guy isn’t a cocky teenager who’s annoyingly pretty. No, he’s a grown-ass pain with scabs on his face, track marks on his arms, and a pipe in his hand.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” someone else asks.

I turn and find another man lounging on a leather recliner that’s perched in the center of a small room made of chipped, wooden walls and shaggy, orange carpet. Where the man in front of me is obviously drugged out, this guy looks like a steroid freak, all bulging muscles and acne.

“I’m not sure yet.” The guy in front of me fixes his gaze on me. “What’s your name?” When I make no move to offer my name, he adds, “If you don’t tell me who you are, sweetheart, then I can’t show you where Blaise is.”

My fingers curl inward. God, what I’d give to crack my knuckles against this jerk’s scabby face.

“It’s Belinda,” I lie.

“Belinda?” He doesn’t seem too impressed. Either that or he doesn’t believe me. “So, why are you here, Belinda?”

“I already told you this.” Irritation surfaces in my tone, despite my internal battle not to go all smartass on this guy. “I need to talk to Blaise.”

“Hmm …” He rubs his jawline, causing a scab to fall off. I nearly gag. “I’m not sure if there’s a Blaise here.” He trades a look with the other guy. “What do you think, D? Is there a Blaise here?”

The dude on the sofa—D—eyes me over, a smile curling at his lips. “Actually, my name’s Blaise.”

“I’m sure it is,” I say snidely. “That’s why he just called you D.”

“D’s my middle name,” D insists as he rises to his feet and crosses the room toward me. “So, what did you want to talk to me about? Or should we go somewhere more private?”

“Just tell me where Blaise is.” I give him a blank stare, pretending to be the epitome of indifference. Deep down, though, uneasiness stirs. This situation is bad, especially since I can’t see Blaise anywhere. But he has to be here. I saw him go in, and he never left … unless there’s a back door.

Crap, what if there’s a back door? What if he left me? But, where would he go? And why would he just leave his car here? Those questions should relieve me, but there have been plenty of times when my dad ditched me and left his truck behind. He even took his truck keys with him so I couldn’t drive away, which is the main reason I taught myself how to hotwire a car.

“I already told you, baby, I’m right here.” Steroid freak gives me a grin that sends a chill down my spine. Then he reaches for me, to do who knows what. I never get to find out, because I grab his wrist and twist his arm.

“Fuck!” he howls in pain. “Let go of me, you bitch.”

“Not until you tell me where Blaise is,” I threaten, twisting his arm harder.

Scab face starts to lunge for me, and I lift my leg, preparing to kick him in the balls. He notices before I make contact and swings around, coming at me from the side while steroid freak reaches for something in his pocket.

My pulse quickens. Crap, this is getting out of hand fast.

“Hadley …? What the hell?” Blaise appears in the doorway of the living room.

I breathe in relief, so thankful to see him, which is a bit strange, but justifiable.

“Hey,” I say, sounding all casual, though I’m one twist away from breaking steroid freak’s arm.

Blaise tilts his head curiously as he assesses the scene. “What’re you doing?”

“Oh, you know, just getting acquainted with your friends.” I release steroid freak’s arm and step back as he whirls toward me. “I don’t think they like me.”

Steroid freak glares at me, gripping his arm. “You’re going to pay for that,” he growls, stepping toward me.

“Touch her and I’ll break your fingers,” Blaise warns. “And I’ll make sure my father knows how shitty you treated Mel’s daughter.”

Steroid freak slams to a screeching halt. “You’re Mel’s daughter?” Nervousness edges into his features.

“Yeah …?” I glance at Blaise for help. “How does this dude know my dad?”

“Because he works for—”

“D, don’t you and El have some shit to do?” Blaise cuts steroid freak off, crossing the room toward us.

“Wait. Your names are El and D?” My gaze flicks between the two guys standing near me, and I snicker. “Let me guess. You shortened your real names so you could remember them. Or did you just forget them altogether and picked a letter from the alphabet?”

D glowers at me, but with a quick, stern look from Blaise, he looks away to El. “Let’s get out of here. We’ve got a lot of shit to get done, and I’m over dealing with girl drama.”

“Yeah, like I’m the one who started it,” I mutter as El and D move for the door.

D throws me a dirty look before walking out, and El follows, slamming the door.

Blaise immediately gapes at me. “Seriously, how has that mouth of yours never gotten you in trouble before?”

“Who says it hasn’t?” When he shakes his head unfathomably, I shrug. “You should already know I speak my mind. It’s what made you hate me right from the start.”

“I didn’t and still don’t hate you,” he insists, stuffing his hands into the back pockets of his jeans. “You just … I don’t know, threw me off a bit. You’re very …” He considers something carefully. “Well, I think Alex said it best when he said you’re feisty.”

“I’m not feisty,” I deny. “I just don’t like to put up with guy drama.”

“Guy drama?” His brow cocks. “All I did was call you sweetheart, and you told me to go fuck myself and then some.”

“Just because I’m a girl doesn’t mean I like to be called vomit-inducing pet names,” I scoff. “Guys need to realize that.”

“No one’s ever complained about me doing it before,” Blaise points out. “In fact, most girls like it when I call them, as you put it, vomit-inducing pet names.”

“Yeah, well, I’m a special kind of girl then, I guess. But I know I’m not one of a kind. You should consider that the next time you start throwing around gross pet names to complete strangers.”

He silently stares at me, either irritated or utterly thrown off—I can’t tell. “I’ll make sure to do that.” He pauses. “But I definitely disagree with you not being one of a kind. You’re very odd.”

“Gee, thanks … I think.”

“It’s not a bad thing,” he quickly says. “Just different.”

“I wouldn’t care if it was bad or not,” I tell him confidently. “I’ve been called a hell of a lot worse than odd.”

“Yeah, I’m not that surprised.”

When I attempt to glare at him, although my lips become traitorous bastards and threaten to turn upward, he chuckles and shakes his head.

“Hadley, you almost just broke a drug dealer’s arm, and I’m guessing that probably isn’t the first time you’ve done something like that. That’s not normal.”

“Hey, I’ve never tried to break a drug dealer’s arm before,” I deny indignantly. As his brows elevate in doubt, I heave a dramatic sigh. “Okay, it may have happened one other time. But in my defense, both times the guys deserved it. The first dude screwed around with my sister and cheated on her. And that D guy”—I aim a finger at the door—“was reaching for me first before I grabbed his arm. It was total self-defense.”

“I believe you. D can be a real prick, which is part of the reason I didn’t have you come in here with me to begin with.”

I raise my hands in front of me. “Look, dude, you left me in the car with the windows up for over an hour, and we’re in the middle of nowhere; what else was I supposed to do? It’s not like I could’ve texted you. I don’t even have your number.”

He bites back a smile. “Is that your way of asking for my number?”

“What? No.” I pull a repulsed face. “That’s the last thing I want.”

“Sure it is.” His cockiness returns in full form, smirk and all. It makes me want to smack that smugness right of his pretty boy face.

Instead, I settle for poking him in the chest. “Didn’t I just tell you not to assume I want certain things?”

His smirk doubles. “It’s not an assumption if you just said you wanted it.”

“Good God, you’re so annoying,” I growl out. Then I raise my chin and turn for the door. “You know what? I’m out of here. I’ve done my favor for the day. I don’t need to deal with this crap.”

He snags the bottom of my shirt before I make it too far. “I’m not going to just let you walk home. We’re in the middle of nowhere.”

I rotate around and try to pry his fingers from the back of my shirt. “Let me? You can’t make me do anything.”

He refuses to let go. “I know, but … we have a deal. You owe me a favor.”

“You said my silence was today’s favor,” I grit through my teeth, resorting to tugging on my shirt.

“Yeah, well, I want two favors this morning.” He holds my shirt tighter.

“No way. I’m not just going to give you an extra favor.” Deep down, I don’t really want to walk home. But the fact that he thinks he can tell me not to is infuriating.

“Will you just quit arguing? You’re just being difficult to be difficult.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes you are.” He heaves an exasperated breath when I tug on my shirt again. “Will you please just listen to me for a minute? I’m not trying to be controlling. I’m trying to help you.”

“Sure you are.” I yank on my shirt again, refusing to listen. Sure, we may have had a small moment of understanding in the car, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to let him boss me around now.

When I pull on my shirt again, I throw my weight into it and end up losing my balance. I trip backward, my fingers falling from my shirt as I reach out to grip his arm for support. But he stumbles over his own feet and we both end up falling.

I wince as my back hits the floor and Blaise lands on top of me, his chest pressing against mine. He does manage to get his hands down at the very last second, softening some of the impact, but his knees bang against my shins.

He hurriedly pushes back, staring down at me worriedly. “Holy shit, are you okay?”

I bob my head up and down, blinking as my eyes water from the pain in my shins. “Yeah, I think so. Just as long as you’ll get off me.” I lightly shove his chest.

He slightly lifts his weight off me. “I will, but only if you promise not to walk home. This part of town … it’s not always safe.”

“I’m not going to let you scare me into staying here.” I push on his chest again, but he doesn’t budge. “Dude, don’t make me put you in a headlock.”

He chuckles, his eyes crinkling around the corners. “I’m not so sure that’s a threat.”

I lift a brow. “Are you questioning my headlock ability?”

“No, not at all.” His expression is completely serious. “It just wouldn’t bother me as much as you’d want it to.”

“You say that now, but twenty bucks says you tap out within the first minute.”

He laughs wholeheartedly this time, and the sight makes him look ridiculously pretty. It’s both irritating and mesmerizing.

“This isn’t funny.” I pinch his nipple.

“You’re seriously violent.” He pushes back to rub his chest, laughter still tickling his tone until he sighs. “Look, I don’t want to fight with you, or be the guy pinning you down to the floor—well, for this reason anyway—but I’m trying to protect you. I swear.” His loud exhale sweeps across my face, his breath minty. “There’s a lot about this town you don’t know about yet. And there’re some areas … and certain people who are … trouble. Trust me; you don’t want to go wandering around alone out here.”

He’s being too evasive. I need more of an explanation.

“Does this have anything to do with my dad working for your dad?”

He wavers, studying me. “So, you know about that?”

“Well, you did just mention my dad to those guys who work for your dad. I can put two and two together.” I’m not ready to divulge that I overheard him talking to Alex.

“Shit, I forgot I said that.” He lowers his head as he curses under his breath. He’s so close now that his hair is tickling my cheek. It feels weirdly nice, having him this close. And for some stupid reason, it makes me think of that kiss yesterday. That kiss that felt like it burned me up from the inside out.

Deep down, inside a part I’ll never admit exists, I want to press my lips to his, which is why I lean away from him.

“Was I not supposed to know my dad works for yours?” I tilt my head to the other side.

Sighing, he meets my gaze. “Sort of. I mean, your dad asked us not to say anything. Said you wouldn’t understand.”

“How considerate of him,” I reply dryly. “And I’m sure there’s more to it than that. There always is with my dad.” When he shifts his weight, seeming awfully squirmy, I ask, “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

He shrugs awkwardly as he props himself up on one arm. “If there is, it’s not like I’d tell you.”

“Well, that’s rude.”

“Well, isn’t the whole point of not telling someone just that? To not tell them, even if it’s rude? Besides, didn’t you just give me a whole speech while we were in the car about you knowing things you weren’t telling me and that you weren’t obligated to tell me, even if I asked?”

“It wasn’t a speech,” I correct. “It was a simple statement.”

He presses back a grin. “I’m starting to realize that, with you, nothing is simple … You’re a very intense girl.”

“You’re the one who’s lying on top of me. I think, right now, that statement might describe you more than it does me.”

“Yeah, but I’m not a girl,” he points out amusedly.

“Huh, could’ve fooled me.” In a sick, twisted way, I’m kind of enjoying getting under his skin, which shit, is something he already accused me of.

I have no idea what’s wrong with me. I’m not usually this persistent with tormenting guys or anyone in general. Then again, people usually give up more easily. Blaise is as stubborn as me.

He mockingly scowls at me. “Hey, I’m not girlie-looking.”

“You’re pretty, though.” I shrug. “Pretty is a girlie word.”

He shakes his head, gaping at me. “I’m not pretty. I have piercings and tattoos, and the way I dress … none of that is girlie.”

I struggle not to smile, totally getting off on this. I’m screwed up. I really am. What the hell is wrong with me?

“Girlie girls can have piercings and tattoos, so I don’t think that saves your ass. Besides, even if it did, I don’t see any of these alleged piercings and tattoos.”

His brow curves upward. “You don’t believe I have them?”

“No, I don’t.” I grin at the look on his face. “It’s amusing how irritated you are about that.”

“Yeah, well, you’re about to be equally as irritated.” He sticks out his tongue that, sure enough, is glinting with a metallic piercing. “See? Piercing.” Then he dips his head and licks the side of my neck.

“What the hell?” I squeal, pushing him back. “Why did you do that?”

He gives a half-shrug, seeming pretty damn pleased with himself. “You wanted proof. I figured that was the best way to give it to you.”

“By licking me?”

“Yeah. Why not?”

I wipe my neck. “Because it’s gross.”

“Sure it is.” And there’s that smug smile again.

Screw him and his licking.

“Fine, if you don’t think so, then I’m sure you won’t mind me doing this.” I raise my head and slide my tongue along his neck, making sure to drool a bit on his skin for good measure.

Instead of squealing, he curses, then licks my damn neck again.

“Stop!” I whine, but laughter is bursting from my lips.

I’m not even sure what the hell is so funny, yet I’m laughing like an idiot. I realize it’s been a long time since I laughed this hard. I’ve been so stressed out lately. For years, actually.

Blaise is laughing, too, as he wipes his neck off.

“You’re crazy.”

“I’m crazy?” I work to calm my laughter. “You’re the one who started a licking war. Who does that?”

“Why are you guys licking each other?” Alex’s exhausted voice drifts from across the living room.

Blaise tenses then climbs off me, offering his hand to help me up. When I stand up without his help, he frowns, and I feel sort of bad, but I keep my apology to myself.

Sighing, he turns to Alex, who’s leaning against the doorway, his eyelids half open, his skin pale.

“You finally decided to wake up, huh?” The playfulness in Blaise’s demeanor is nonexistent as he stares at his brother.

Alex shrugs, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hands. “Only because you two were being so damn loud.”

“Good. I’m glad,” Blaise snaps. “I’ve been here for over an hour trying to wake your ass up. I was one step away from carrying you out to the car.”

Alex yawns, blinking his bloodshot eyes. “Why are you even here? I thought I messaged you not to come?” His gaze strays to me and narrows. “And why the hell is she here?”

“She was helping me this morning when Dad texted Rhyland to come get you.” Blaise flexes his hands, struggling to keep his cool. “And you can try to text me all you want and tell me not to come get you, but I’m going to every time. You should know that by now.”

“Only because you love being a pain in my ass.” Alex clumsily strides toward him. “I don’t get why you think you have any control over me. I’m almost eighteen; I can take care of myself.”

“Yeah, obviously.” Blaise’s tone oozes sarcasm as he burns Alex with a look.

Alex slams his hands against Blaise’s chest. “Fuck you, man. You don’t know anything about me.”

Blaise stumbles, the muscles in his jaw pulsating. “I know you’re an addict.”

“Fuck you,” Alex seethes, getting in Blaise’s face. “I can quit anytime I want. I just don’t want to.”

“You’re so full of shit,” Blaise seethes. “And I think deep down you know that.”

“I’m not an addict,” Alex’s declares, his face reddening as his fingers curl into fists. “I choose to get high.”

“If that’s the case, then why?” Blaise’s tone marginally softens. “Why are you choosing to slowly kill yourself?”

“That’s none of your damn business,” Alex mutters lowly. Then he steps back, raising his hands in front of him. “You know what? Fuck this. I’m getting another fix.”

“Not an addict, huh?” Blaise challenges with a raise of his brow.

“I’m choosing to do this,” Alex throws back as he hurries for the doorway. “I don’t have to listen to you.”

“Alex …” Blaise starts, chasing after him.

They disappear out of the room. Moments later, a door slams, followed by a lot of banging. Then silence.

I deliberate what to do, whether to go out to the car or not. I’d probably feel more awkward if I hadn’t spent the last handful of years having similar arguments with my dad, sometimes in front of an audience.

After a minute ticks by, I slowly inch toward the doorway. “Blaise?”

A pause of silence, and then he mumbles shakily, “Yeah, just a sec.”

I hesitantly peer around the corner.

He’s standing just a ways down a dark hallway with his head resting against a door, his eyes shut, his body flowing with tension.

I almost turn around, let him have his meltdown, but … I don’t know, sometimes, when I’m about to break apart, I secretly wish someone would help me hold it together. Not that I’d ever tell anyone that. Besides, the only people in my life who’d help me are the people I’d rather not see me have meltdowns.

Sucking in a breath, I start down the hallway toward him. “You okay?”

He unevenly inhales then lifts his head and faces me. “Yep, just great.”

“You don’t look great.”

“I look how I always look.”

“Then maybe you always don’t look great.”

“Wow, way to kick me when I’m down, Hadley,” he tries to joke but misses the mark.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” I prop my shoulder against the wall. “I just meant that maybe you always look stressed out because you’re always stressed out.”

He laughs hollowly. “Stressed out? Is that what this is? Because I thought this constant helpless and irritated feeling festering inside me meant I had the best fucking life in the goddamned world … Shit.” He turns away from me and lightly bangs his head against the door again. “I don’t know why I keep telling you stupid shit. It was probably a really stupid idea to bring you here.”

“Maybe,” I agree. “But since I’m here, feel free to tell me stupid shit. It’s nothing I haven’t heard, or probably haven’t said or thought myself.”

He aims a skeptical look at me. “You’ve told a girl who hates your guts that you’re stressed out all the time and secretly wish you lived alone instead of taking care of your brothers?” He whispers the last part.

“Not exactly.”

He gives me a see-I’m-right look before lowering his forehead to the door again.

I drum my fingers against the sides of my legs, feeling restless and sorry for him. It’s kind of annoying how much I want to make him feel better. I don’t know why I feel this way. Maybe because I secretly wish I had someone to make me feel better? Or maybe I’ve just lost my damn mind. Who knows?

I stare at the cracked wall straight ahead of me that reminds me of so many of our old homes. “Hey, Blaise?”

“Yeah,” he mumbles.

A shaky exhale escapes my lips. “I’m stressed out all the time. And I have these rules that … that are going to help me get the hell away from this life the moment I graduate, which is pretty shitty because that means I’m going to leave my sisters behind with our alcoholic, drug addict, con-man of a father who can’t even take care of himself.”

He gradually turns toward me, moving his head away from the door. He searches my eyes for an unnerving amount of time, so much so that I start to regret my confession.

“Rules?” he questions curiously. “What sort of rules?”

I shrug. “Nothing that interesting. Just keeping my grades up, keeping myself out of trouble, no dating—stuff like that.”

He straightens, facing me fully now. “You have a no-dating rule? How does that help you with your plan?”

“Because guys are trouble.” I shrug when he blasts me with a joking, dirty look. “What? They are.”

“And you’re not?”

“I never said that.”

He shakes his head, gaping at me. “You’re a really odd girl.”

“You’ve said that, like, six times,” I tell him. “It’s starting to lose its dramatic effect.”

He chuckles, his muscles loosening a bit. “Thank you.”

My brows dip. “For what?”

“For …” He scuffs the tip of his boot against the carpet. “For making me chill out, I guess.”

“This is you chilled out?” I tease. “Wow, I’d hate to see you when you’re really worked up.”

He laughs, then faces the shut door again. “So damn weird.” He plummets back into silence as he stares at the door. “I’m not sure what to do.”

I push away from the wall and move up beside him. “With Alex?”

He nods, his gaze flitting to me. “I’m pretty sure he locked himself in there to shoot up again, which means, even if I pick the lock, he’ll be passed out.”

“Yeah, so? Just carry him out to the car.”

“I would, but …” He blows out a stressed breath. “I just feel like sometimes I’m enabling him by helping him.”

“I can understand why you’d feel that way. I feel that way about my father sometimes.”

He chews on his bottom lip. “What would you do in this situation?”

“Honestly?” I ask, and he nods. “Well, if it was my dad, I’d probably just leave his high-ass here. But only because he’s really starting to wear on my nerves lately. Plus, he’s been pulling shit like this for almost a decade, and we can’t get him to get some help. If it was one of my sisters, though, I’d take them home, let the drugs wear out of their system, and then do whatever I could to either get them in rehab or get them some sort of help. But I love my sisters.”

“You don’t love your dad?”

“That’s a complicated question.”

“I can understand that. My dad’s a real piece of work, but I’m sure you already know that.” He doesn’t wait for me to comment as he stares at the door again, drifting into silence. Then he mutters something under his breath, crouches, and examines the lock. “You have a hair pin or something that’ll pick this?”

“Actually, I do.” I reach up, remove a hairpin securing one of my braids, and hand it to him.

“You come prepared, huh?” he teases as he wiggles the pin into the lock.

“This isn’t the first time I’ve had to help someone break into a room.”

“Again, I’m not surprised.” He twists the hair pin counterclockwise.

“You know, I feel like maybe I should feel insulted by your lack of surprise in my knowledge of criminal activities,” I tease, slanting back with my boot propped up against the wall.

“But I doubt you will.” The lock clicks, and then he pushes open the door and straightens.

“Nah, I probably won’t. If I did, then I’d spend almost all my time feeling insulted.” I reach to take the hair pin from him, but he tucks it back into my hair. Then he offers me a small smile before walking into the room.

My chest feels sort of weird in that moment. Fluttery. It makes me feel oddly unsettled and restless. Makes me want to smart off to him just to regain control over my body. But watching him cross the small room toward Alex, who is already passed out on a stained mattress with a band wrapped loosely around his arm, a needle beside his hand, I decide to keep my lips fused together.

“You need help carrying him out?” I ask as I step over the broken glass and garbage littering the room.

He shakes his head as he stands beside the mattress, staring down at his brother with pain, anger, and hurt crammed in his eyes. “Nah, I can get him.”

“What can I do to help then?”

He casts a quick glance at me, his eyes searching mine, then he rubs his lips together and looks back at his brother. “Open the doors for me?”

“You got it.” I kick the garbage and glass covering the floor out of the way with the tip of my boot as Blaise crouches and picks up Alex.

Alex’s eyelids flutter, as if he’s coming to. He mumbles something incoherently then stills again.

Blaise adjusts his weight then hikes across the room to where I’m standing. Neither of us exchange a word as I back out, head back across the living room, and open the front door.

Sunlight spills into the dusty room, along with fresh air. I breathe it in as I step out, realizing how damp and murky the air had been inside.

“Can you get the car door for me, too?” Blaise asks as he exits the house, squinting against the sunlight.

I nod then hurry to the SUV and open the back door.

Blaise gently sets Alex down on the back seat, shuts the door, and then we climb in. Again, quietness stretches between us as he starts up the engine and drives back the down the bumpy road.

“He’s been through a lot of shitty stuffy,” Blaise abruptly says as he pulls out onto the highway. “Alex, I mean.” He flips down the visor then his guarded gaze lands on mine. “I know it’s not an excuse for anything he does, but sometimes I wonder, if some of that shitty stuff never happened to him”—his eyes travel to the rearview mirror, to the reflection of his brother lying down in the back seat—“maybe he wouldn’t be a drug addict who gets in trouble all the time and does crappy things to people who probably don’t deserve it.” His attention returns to the road, his shoulders stiffening. “Then again, maybe he’d still be the same. Who the hell knows?”

Just what sort of stuff has Alex been through? I won’t ask, and not just because he probably won’t tell me, but because it’s none of my damn business. Not this. No, this is deeply personal, and I can respect his vagueness.

“Are you going to try to get him help?” I ask instead. “Maybe try to get him into a rehab facility?”

“I want to, but me wanting him to go and actually getting him to agree are two entirely different things.” He cranks up the air conditioning. “But yeah, I’m going to try. My brothers and I, and even Scarlett, have been saving up money so we can give him an intervention and hopefully convince him to go.” He hurriedly explains, “Scarlett’s our half-sister. Have you met her? She doesn’t live with us, but she stays over some weekends. You may have seen her around school.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen her around a few times.” I try to be as vague as possible, uncertain if Scarlett would want me confessing to Blaise that she was the one who told me about the dual. “And I think it’s good that you’re all working together to try to help Alex. I hope he does get help. Not just for his sake, but for you and your siblings, too.”

His gaze flicks to mine. “You’re very understanding about this.”

I shrug. “I already told you that my dad does stuff like this all the time. And some of my sisters have, on occasion.”

“I know, but …” He stares at me, and I mean, really stares at me, in a way that makes me twitchy, as if he can actually see through the wall I constantly have around me. “I’m just not used to it—being around someone who’s understanding. I mean, my siblings can be sometimes, but none of my friends have ever been this easy to talk to.”

I squirm, even more uneasy now. “It’s just because I’ve been through similar stuff, so I get it.”

“I know.” He continues to stare at me in that seeing, knowing, can’t-really-breathe-properly way.

Finally, I decide I need a subject change before I end up diving out of the car just to avoid that look.

I rest my elbow on the back of the seat. “So, what do you guys do for work anyway? Because I find it hard as hell to get a job that pays decently and has flexible hours.”

He studies me for a heartbeat longer before he tears his gaze away from me.

I secretly breathe in relief.

“Jax does work around the neighborhood, like mows lawns and stuff—I feel like he’s too young to work more than that,” he tells me. “Alex works at an auto shop. But the only reason he even has the job and hasn’t gotten fired yet is because the owner of the shop is—was a friend of my mom’s.” He scratches his neck, visibly uncomfortable. “I work at the shop, too. Not on the cars, but in the office. Rhyland sometimes works there, but he makes most of his money racing.”

“Wait. What?” That piques my interest. “How the hell does he make money racing?”

“People put up bets, and he makes a percentage.” He glances at me with his brows knit. “Didn’t they do that back in your hometown? I know you raced. Didn’t you get money from doing it?”

I shake my head. “Not really, but I don’t really have a hometown. Maybe if we stayed put in the same place for longer than six months, I would’ve discovered the potential cash flow in something I love.”

He gapes at me. “You move every six months?”

“Give or take a month.”

“Why?”

I hesitate, questioning how much I should divulge. After all, my dad works for his dad, and telling Blaise the truth—that my dad generally tends to screw people over within that timeframe—doesn’t seem like a great idea.

I settle on, “We just like a change of scenery, I guess.”

Skepticism weighs in his eyes, but he drops the subject as we arrive at the outskirts of town and he turns into a gas station.

I check the time and frown. I’m two hours late for school already. Crap.

“Sorry, but the tank’s already red lining,” he apologizes as he notes me frowning at the clock. “I promise I’ll hurry. And I can drop you off at school before I take Alex back to the house.”

“It’s fine. You can go home, and I can just drive myself to school … I don’t want to make you drive to the school with him in the back seat like that”—I nod at Alex—“and risk getting pulled over or something.”

“Are you sure?” he asks as he parks next to a pump.

“Yep, it’s cool. Either way, I won’t make it there until after lunch anyway.”

He silences the engine then gives me a strange look. “Thanks, Hadley. What you did this morning … and agreeing not to say anything …” He clears his throat. “But yeah, thanks. I haven’t felt this grateful in a very long time.”

“No worries. It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Yeah, it really is.” He really stares at me again. “Especially with how crappy I treated you when we first met and almost every time after that. I wish I hadn’t, but … yeah, I’m just sorry.”

“No worries.” As we start to share yet another moment, I bail out of the car. “I’m going to go get some coffee. You want anything?”

“I’m good, but thanks.” His gaze remains glued on me, dissecting me.

“Okay.” I shut the door and hightail it into the gas station, my heart racing in my chest. I don’t know what the fucker’s problem is today, but it needs to chill out. So what if Blaise isn’t nearly as bad as I originally thought? My heart doesn’t need to get all fluttery over it. It should be tougher than that.

I should be tougher than that.

“Remember the rules,” I mutter to myself as I enter the gas station. “We don’t need this getting out …” I trail off as I spot my dad’s truck through the window, parked in the side parking lot. A much nicer truck is parked beside it that has heavily tinted windows.

Curious as to what my dad is doing here in the middle of the day, I start to head back outside to ask, when the door to the nicer truck opens and my dad hops out. I pause, watching as he peers around nervously. Then he collects a large duffel bag from the truck, hurriedly climbs into his own truck, and then peels out of the parking lot, kicking up a cloud of dust.

I grind my teeth as I watch him speed off down the highway. “Another duffel bag, Dad? Really?”

I have a very suspicious and very unnerving feeling that the contents of that bag might be very similar to the bag buried in our backyard.

Just what the hell has my dad gotten mixed up in? And does this have anything to do with his new job?

My gaze floats over to where Blaise is standing next to his SUV. He’s currently swiping his card in the machine, but his eyes are trained on the road, right in the direction my dad drove off in.

Chapter 19

I remain fairly stuck in my own head for most of the remaining drive home, my mind crammed with questions. Questions about my dad. About what he was doing at the gas station with yet another duffel bag. Questions about Blaise. Like, how much he knows about my dad and about Blaise himself. The biggest question: what led him to seek guardianship of his brothers? What line was crossed that he finally decided they were better off without him?

How am I supposed to ask him any of this? I barely know him. He barely knows me. Why would he share his personal story with me? He may very well not, but at this point, I’m becoming desperate enough to ask.

I take a sip of my coffee then flick a quick glance to make sure Alex is still passed out before turning in the seat toward Blaise. He’s hardly said more than a handful of words since we left the gas station, either stuck in his own head, too, or tired of chatting with me.

“I have to ask you a question.”

Breaking the silence makes him jolt.

His gaze skates to me, his expression guarded. “Okay …?”

I finish off my coffee then set the empty cup in the cupholder. “You saw him at the gas station, didn’t you?”

He reluctantly nods. “I saw him drive away.”

“Do you know why he was there?”

“No.”

I can’t read him; can’t tell if he’s lying. “Was he there for his job?”

He shakes his head, sweeping strands of his blond hair out of his eyes. “Probably not.”

“How do you know for sure? I mean, what does he even do for your dad?”

“All sorts of things. And I know for sure he wasn’t working earlier because he only works nights.”

“Nights? But sometimes I see him around the house at night.”

“Late at night,” he clarifies. “I think it’s the eleven o’clock to five o’clock shift.”

None of this makes sense, and with how much Blaise is squirming in his seat, I wonder if he knows more than he’s letting on. But why? Because my dad told him not to tell me? Again, why?

Why? Why? Why?

“But he acts as if he’s going to work during the day,” I point out, observing his reaction closely. “He even packs a lunch.”

Blaise thrums his fingers against the wheel, contemplating something. “Maybe he has two jobs?”

I snort a laugh. “Yeah, and unicorns are real.”

He gives me a curious glance. “I’m guessing he’s not the sort of guy who would have two jobs?”

“Hell no. He’s not the type to even have one job. Honestly, until you said he was working for your dad, I thought he was just going to the bar with his”—I make air quotes—“ ‘lunchbox.’ ”

He nods understandingly. “I had one of those parents, too. Or, well, I should say stepparent.” He downshifts as we near the turn off to our neighborhood. “Rhyland and Alex’s mom … she’s a real piece of work. And that’s putting it mildly.”

I seize the opportunity to ask, “Was she the reason you got guardianship of your brothers?”

“Partly.” A tightness clenches his tone. “My father was the other reason.” He flips on his blinker as he slows down to make a turn. “He was really pissed off at me at first. Or, well, pissed off is an understatement. But yeah, anyway, he was really pissed off until I made a valid point that, with the way things were going, we were probably going to get taken away from him anyway. Well, Alex, Jaxon, and Rhyland were. I was eighteen by then.”

I realize something doesn’t add up. “Wait. How long ago was this? I thought Rhyland said six months ago.”

“I started the process about nine months ago. It took three months to get it done and probably would’ve taken longer if my dad hadn’t decided to be cooperative.” He presses his lips together, pausing. “I’m guessing by that confused look on your face that you’re doing the math and realizing I’m almost nineteen yet still a senior in high school. That has nothing to do with me getting guardianship … Back in sixth grade, I had to miss a year of school.”

I almost ask what for, but he looks on the verge of being sick, his skin pale, his breathing increasing.

“So, your dad just gave you guardianship then?” I ask instead.

“After a bit of a fight, he did.”

“Do you guys see him at all?”

“Occasionally, but we try to avoid it at all costs. Well, except for Alex … but he doesn’t always think clearly.” His eyes travel to the rearview mirror. “I wish he would. The last thing I want is for him to get more mixed up in my dad’s world … It’ll destroy him.”

I recall how I overheard Blaise and Alex arguing last night, how Alex declared he was torturing my sisters and me because someone fucked him over.

“Why did Alex go after my sisters and me?” I ask cautiously. “Was it just because of what I said to you the first time we met? Or is there more to it than that?”

“Alex barely had any involvement in that,” he lies flatly. “It was mostly me.”

“If you say so.”

“I do say so.”

“Okay.”

He nearly growls. “You’re so frustrating sometimes. Seriously, are you always like this?”

“Yeah, pretty much,” I admit truthfully. “But, FYI, you’re equally as annoying. And I know for a fact that you had nothing to do with my tires getting slashed or the flyers. But it’s cool. I get you’re trying to protect your brother, so I’ll let it drop.”

He assesses me with his lips pressed together as he steers up his driveway. “I can’t figure you out at all. I mean, you can be rude and intense and maybe even slightly crazy, yet you’ve been so understanding with stuff, and you’re just …” He shakes his head. “I don’t get you.”

I stay put despite how badly I want to dive out of the car. But he’s got that stupid look on his face again, the one where I’m pretty sure he can see through my layer that I keep hidden.

“Most people can’t, so you should probably just stop trying to do it.”

He shakes his head, not saying a word as he pushes the shifter into park, neither agreeing nor denying with my request, leaving me to wonder.

I really need to stop wondering about him.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to drive you to school?” he asks, glancing at his brother. “I can hurry and put him inside then drive you, if you need me to?”

“Nah, I can drive myself. I’m not a very good passenger anyway. I like to be behind the wheel too much.” I try for a smile to lighten the mood, but this ride has been too intense and I’m not really feeling it.

Blaise seems on the same page, offering me only a stiff smile.

“All right,” he says, making no move to get out.

“Okay.”

I tell myself to get out of the car, but instead, I just end up staring at him, wondering, wondering, wondering.

Wondering way too much about him.

As awkwardness stretches between us, I find myself missing arguing with him again. At least then I didn’t feel so out of my element.

Throwing him a quick grin, I jump out and hurry toward the fence, feeling weirded out. I try to blame it on lack of sleep, but the truth is Blaise got me all baffled and confused. My first initial assessment of him feels way off now. Still, I can’t get past the first time I met him.

How can that cocky jerk be the guy who just opened up to me? Or who takes care of his drugged-out brother?

As I make my way up my driveway and toward my car, I watch out of the corner of my eye as Blaise opens the back door of the SUV, gently picks up his brother, and carries him toward the house.

Who is Blaise Porterson? And, can I trust him?

Part of me says yes, but the other part—the part that believes he knows more about my dad’s job than he’s letting on—cautions me to be careful.

Chapter 20

I arrive at school right around the time lunch ends, so I have no time to talk to my sisters. After I check in with the office, giving them a forged note excusing my absence, I hurry to class to avoid being late again. Since I missed fifth period yesterday, I ask the teacher what I missed. Then I take a seat in the farthest row back, hoping to keep my head down and avoid the gawking, because apparently, people haven’t gotten over the whole flyer thing yet.

“Hey.” Rhyland drops his books on the desk in front of mine then plops down in the seat. “You made it?”

“Yeah, just barely.” I dig a pen out of my bag then straighten in the seat, too aware that the gawking around me has increased since Rhyland started talking to me. “Hey, thanks for giving my sisters a ride this morning. That was really … nice of you.”

“Nice?” He smiles amusedly. “Wow, did I just get a compliment from you?”

I shrug. “I give compliments occasionally.”

“Yeah, but you seem like a hard girl to win over, so it kind of feels like, I don’t know, an honor or something.”

“It is.” I can’t help smiling when he grins at me. “But being a hard girl to win over isn’t a bad thing.”

“I know. But you need to let people win you over sometimes; or else, how are people supposed to get to know you?”

My smile withers. “Sometimes it’s easier not to.”

He pauses for a beat. “You sound a lot like my brother.”

My lips dip downward. “Which one?”

“Blaise.” He searches my eyes. “Was that the answer you were hoping for or not? I can’t tell.”

Shrugging, I relax back in my seat. “There could be worse answers, I guess.”

He chuckles softly, but his laughter hastily fades as he sneaks a glance around the room. Then he lowers his voice. “How did it go this morning with Blaise? He hasn’t texted me yet. Did he make it to school?”

Remembering how Blaise mentioned his siblings not knowing how bad Alex has gotten, I decide to be as vague as possible. “This morning went okay. We picked up Alex, got gas and stuff, then he dropped me off at my car. He didn’t come to school, though. Said he has some stuff to do or something.”

“Oh.” His lips thin as he presses them together. “Alex was okay, though?”

“He seemed okay,” I lie again, wishing I asked Blaise what I was supposed to tell everyone this morning. It’s the first rule of telling a believable lie: make sure your stories line up. “I actually didn’t talk to him too much. Alex, I mean. In case you haven’t heard, he’s not a huge fan of me.” The last part comes off teasing.

Sometimes I’m such a fantastic liar that I freak myself out. I didn’t used to be this way. Before my mom died, I cried every time I tried to lie. My parents used to laugh at me, saying I was going to turn into the most honest person in the world with how terrible of a liar I was. And look at me now. I can lie without missing a beat and rarely does anyone get to know the real me.

Rhyland sighs. “He does seem to have some sort of vendetta against you, doesn’t he? That’s just Alex. All of us Portersons have our one quirk that rubs people the wrong way.”

“Just one?” I question.

He chuckles, his eyes crinkling around the corners. “Okay, maybe we have more, but not all of them are completely bad.” He rests his arms on top of my desk. “We have good traits, too.”

I toss a glance at the people openly staring at us. “And are people staring at us because of your good traits or your bad ones?”

He peers around the room, his mouth curving downward as his eyes land back on me. “It’s probably because of both.” He fiddles with a leather band on his wrist. “Some people fear us because of our last name. Some people want us because of who we are. Honestly, either way, we have a hard time trusting people. It’s why Jaxon barely talks to anyone, why we don’t have any close friends, why we rarely date.”

A soft laugh escapes me. “I have a hard time believing the last one.”

When his gaze lifts to mine, curiosity sparkles in his eyes. “Why not?”

“I don’t know. Maybe because everything about all of you—well, except for maybe Jaxon—screams player.”

He presses his hand to his chest, mocking offense. “I am so not a player. I barely flirt with anyone.”

“Liar. You flirted with me the first time we met.” Despite my seriousness, I’m on the verge of laughing.

“I mildly flirted with you,” he corrects, grinning. “And I backed off, didn’t I?”

“Sort of. But I’m guessing only because Blaise made you.”

“There might be a little truth to that statement. How did you know?”

“It’s pretty obvious.”

He bobs his head up and down. “Yeah, my brother’s never been that subtle, I guess.”

“Yeah, I could tell that from the first time I met him and he tried to hit on me. He has the worst moves ever. How he’s ever gotten a date is beyond me.”

Rhyland barks out a laugh, causing even more people to stare at us. “Jesus, you’re amusing,” he says through his laughter.

As the bell rings and the teacher starts to call roll, I slant forward and whisper, “Why’s that so funny?”

Tears of laughter glimmer in his eyes. “I was just picturing Blaise actually going out on a date and trying to ask a girl out.”

Confusion tap dances inside my mind. “You say that like he’s never dated.”

“That’s because he hasn’t,” he says in all seriousness. “Not really anyway.”

I think back to how he acted like such a player—my initial assumption of him. “Does he know that? Because he acts the opposite.”

He scans me over with intrigue. “Just what exactly has been going on between my brother and you?”

I chew on the end of my pen. “You should know. You’ve been there for most of it.”

“Not the first time you met.”

“That was probably the worst.”

“Why?” He’s even more intrigued.

“Um, because he called me baby and sweetheart, and then acted like an asshole when I told him a very colorful way to go fuck himself. It was like no one had ever told him off before.”

“That’s because people rarely do. It’s the curse of our last name,” he explains while struggling not to laugh. “I don’t know what’s funnier—you telling Blaise off, or Blaise trying to flirt with you? I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him flirt with anyone.”

“Are you being serious right now? Because what you’re saying and what I’ve seen doesn’t match. So far, Blaise seems like an asshole.” Well, minus some parts from today.

“I think you—”

“Rhyland, please turn around in your seat,” the teacher interrupts before Rhyland can answer.

Shrugging, Rhyland faces forward, but not before whispering, “You should cut Blaise some slack, Hadley. He’s had a rough life and rarely lets people in. But the people he does let in are really lucky. Trust me.”

He leaves it at that, only adding to my developing confusion of who Blaise really is. It shouldn’t matter to me. If I was sticking to my rules, it wouldn’t. But apparently, within the course of two weeks of living in Honeyton, I’ve managed to veer off course and lose focus on what’s important. And that can’t happen. Ever. I need to stay focused, not just for my sake, but for my sisters’. That means no more thinking or worrying about Blaise.

Chapter 21

My sisters are surprisingly upbeat as we drive home from school. I assumed, since people hadn’t let up with the whole flyer incident, that they’d be mopey and in desperate need of some ice cream. Instead, they’re all giggles and jokes and chatting about hot guys.

“Speaking of who’s hot …” Payton slides forward in the back seat and rests her arms on the console. “How was your morning with our sexy next-door neighbor?”

So much for not thinking about Blaise. “I’m assuming you mean Blaise?”

“Well, sexy could describe any of them,” she says, “but yeah, I’m talking about Blaise. Unless you spent the morning with more than one Porterson?”

“Actually, Alex was with us,” I tell her, only because I already told Londyn.

Payton crinkles her nose. “God, I feel so bad for you. He’s so annoying. I’ve heard a lot of other people say terrible stuff about him.”

“He’s got quite the rep for being a douchebag,” Bailey agrees. “The rest of Portersons don’t seem so bad. Well, Rhyland and Jaxon don’t. I know you hate Blaise, even if you two did kiss the shit out of each other.”

Payton snickers. “Hell yeah, they did.”

“No, we didn’t,” I protest, knowing I’m so full of it. That kiss yesterday was hot, just like that whole licking thing that happened between us, which FYI, I am never telling my sisters about. They’d never let it go.

“Sure, you didn’t,” Bailey singsongs, perfectly in pitch.

“It’s okay if you did,” Londyn reassures me from the passenger seat. She has a soccer ball on her lap and is twisting her hair up into a messy bun. “I know I said a lot of crap about them the other day, but I think I’ve decided not all the Portersons are bad. Alex is not included in that assessment. And Blaise … I’m still undecided about him. He seemed like such a jerk when we first met him, and then that stupid bet … But I don’t know if I’m right or not.” She looks at me for my opinion.

“He might not be as bad as he seemed at first. And the bet, that was partially my doing,” I say as I speed up to pass a car. “Plus, I think he was the one who bought me the new tires.”

Londyn’s jaw basically ninja slaps her lap. “Seriously?”

I nod, shifting gears. “Yeah, I overheard him talking to Alex about it. I guess Alex was the one who slashed my tires and Blaise bought the replacements.” I purposefully don’t mention when I overheard this conversation, hoping to avoid talking about the bag buried in the backyard, since that will only lead to me lying more.

“Then, why did Blaise act like he was the one who slashed them?” she wonders, dropping her soccer ball onto the floor.

“I think because Alex gets into so much trouble,” I tell her. “He’s trying to protect him or something.”

She aims a purposeful glance at my neck where my necklace once was. “That sounds familiar.”

My hand floats to the base of my neck. “I guess so … But anyway …” I lower my hand and change the subject, not wanting to talk about Mom’s necklace. Or for Bailey and Payton to find out that I pawned it. “The tire thing was pretty cool of Blaise. And he didn’t really seem too bad this morning. I mean, don’t get me wrong, he still got under my skin, but he wasn’t as terrible as I thought he was going to be. I’m still trying to figure him out—if he’s really a nice guy and my first impression of him was wrong, or if he’s just putting on an act now. According to Rhyland, Blaise isn’t cocky at all. And he says he doesn’t usually hit on girls or date, so I don’t get why Blaise was trying all that sweetheart, baby flirty crap the first time we met …” I trail off as I become highly aware they are all staring at me in amusement. “Why are you guys looking at me like that? What’s so damn funny about what I said?”

Londyn slowly shakes her head as she stares off into empty space. “It’s nothing.” She then trades a smile with Bailey and Payton.

“It’s something,” I scoff. “Or else you guys wouldn’t be grinning at each other like a couple of silly Muppet babies.”

Bailey giggles. “We’re Muppet babies.”

I sigh. “Come on; just tell me.”

“It really is nothing.” Londyn pulls out a pack of gum from her bag, pops a piece in her mouth, and then props her feet on the dash as she sits back. “We’ve just never heard you talk about a guy so much. You’re usually so anti-guys.”

“Because guys are trouble.” Irritation burns inside me at her speculation. I’m mostly irritated with myself, because she’s right. “And I’m only talking about Blaise because you guys were asking me questions about him.”

“Okay.” Doubt laces her tone, which only frustrates me more.

“It’s the truth.” I turn into our empty driveway. So, Dad’s not home yet. “You guys brought Blaise up first when you asked me how my morning went with him.”

“True.” Londyn nods in agreement then glances over at the Portersons’ driveway where their SUV and Rhyland’s car is parked.

Rhyland is getting out. He throws us a wave while Jaxon hops out and scrambles up to the house without a glance in our direction.

“He was so offish on the drive to school this morning,” Bailey remarks as she slings her backpack over her shoulder.

“I think he’s just shy.” Payton’s eyes remain on Jaxon until he disappears into the house.

I slip the keys out of the ignition and open the door. “How did your drive with them go this morning anyway? Londyn said not too bad.”

Bailey stuffs her phone into her pocket. “It was okay.”

“Much better than I thought it was going to be,” Payton agrees as Londyn gets out and flips up the seat to let her out. “When Londyn first accepted Blaise’s offer to ride with them, I nearly shit a brick.”

“Me, too,” Bailey says as I hop out and slide the seat forward. “I’m sure if Alex was with us, things would’ve been awful. It just sucks that you had to spend the morning with him.” She offers me an apologetic look as she ducks out of the car.

“Actually, he was pretty quiet for the most part.” I can feel all their gazes on me as I make my way up the driveway, probably wanting more of an explanation. But I promised Blaise. And while I can be a straight-up liar about a lot of things, I respect—and understand—his need to protect his brother way too much. So, I shrug when I reach the front door and see they still haven’t stopped staring at me. “What? He was.”

The three of them trade yet another glance, and then Londyn’s gaze zeroes in on me. “What’re you not telling us?”

I avoid their gazes as I unlock the door. “I’m not keeping anything from you. Why would you ask that?”

Her gaze is relentless. She knows me too well. “Because I know you, and I can tell you are.”

“I’m really not.” I’m so torn. Torn over telling her the truth and keeping my promise to Blaise. “I don’t know why it seems that way.”

She stares at me for a bit longer before looking away with hurt in her eyes. “All right.” Then she steps inside the house and heads straight up to our bedroom.

Releasing a sigh, I move to chase after her so I can tell her … well, I’m not certain yet, but then our dad pulls into the driveway and my worries transfer elsewhere.

I step back outside onto the porch. “Hey, Bay, Payton, can you guys go up to your room for a bit? I need to have a chat with Dad.”

“About the alcohol he buried in the backyard?” Bailey glances at our dad’s truck.

“Yeah.” Another lie. At this point, I’ve told so many I’m starting to get tangled up in them. “Well, that and a couple other things.”

“Good.” With a firm nod, she goes inside.

Payton follows, patting me on the shoulder. “Don’t go easy on him, Had,” she encourages. “He doesn’t deserve it.”

“Oh, I won’t,” I swear. When she shoots me an unconvinced frown, I stress, “I know I’ve gone easy on him in the past, but I’m at my final straw. It’s time he understands that we’re not going to put up with any more of his shit.”

Her lack of confidence in me decreases a notch. “Good. And if you need any help, shout for us, okay? Don’t let him bully you into backing off.”

“All right.” But I’m not about to bring them into this. As the oldest, my job is to protect them. To keep them away from our dad. To make sure they’re safe. To make sure they’re happy, even if it means giving them some of my happiness.

My attention briefly strays to the Porterson house. Does Blaise ever feel this way? Like he’s okay with being less happy as long as his siblings are content?

I instantly shake my head. Why, oh, why did I start thinking about him again?

Get him out of your damn head, woman!

Shifting my focus off Blaise’s house, I trot down the steps and approach my dad’s truck. He’s sitting in the driver’s seat, distracted by his phone. The duffel bag I saw him collect earlier is on the passenger seat.

When he remains oblivious to me standing there, I tap my knuckles against the window. He jumps so badly he drops his phone.

“Shit.” He hastily collects his phone from the floor and straightens in his seat, blinking at me. “Hadley, where’d you come from?”

“The house.” I hitch my thumb over my shoulder. “Didn’t you see me walking down the driveway?”

He shakes his head then rolls the window down all the way. “But, what’re you doing at home?” His puzzled expression alters into a scowl. “Wait. You aren’t cutting out on class, are you?”

“Like you’d care if I was. You never have before,” I say bitterly. “And no, I’m not cutting.” I don’t offer a further explanation as I open the truck door. “You and I need to talk.”

He has the audacity to appear perplexed. “About what?”

“About the bag you buried in the backyard.” I glance at the bag on the seat. “And that one right there, too, if it has the same contents as the one in the backyard.”

His eyes fleetingly widen, but then he narrows them into slits. “How many times have I told you to stay out of my goddamn business?”

I lean in closer, lowering my tone. “When your goddamn business could get you arrested and Child Protective Services called, then it becomes my goddamn business.”

“Shut your fucking mouth,” he hisses, glancing around in a panic. “And stay out of my fucking business.”

I shake my head. “No, I’m not going to this time. I’ve had enough. I had enough a long time ago, actually—ever since Mom died—but I let you get away with a lot of shit because I felt sorry for you. That was my mistake. I’m not going to do it anymore.”

“What exactly are you trying to say?” His tone is like ice.

“That if you don’t cut this shit out”—I point at the backyard and nod at the bag—“then I’m going to try to gain guardianship of my sisters. I’m eighteen now, and I know, under the right circumstances, I can get it.”

“You can’t do that,” he warns lowly, turning in his seat. “Again, you’re forgetting who the parent is. Those are my daughters in that house. A house I pay for us to live in.” He grinds his teeth. “And you’re my daughter, too, even though I wish you weren’t right now.”

My heart squeezes in my chest, but I shove my walls up.

Don’t let him get to you. Don’t feel a thing.

“I …” That’s when I smell the whiskey on his breath. I shake my head. “Great, you’re drunk, and you’ve been driving around town. Awesome parenting example, Dad.”

“I just had one drink,” he snaps, the vein in his neck bulging. “And what I do as a parent is none of your business.”

“It is, too, my damn business!” My voice is rising as my temper gets the best of me. “You can’t just do whatever you want and think it’s not going to affect us! Because it does! All the time! You don’t pay the bills, you don’t take care of us, and you haven’t since Mom died. And if she were here, she’d be so disappointed in you—”

He lunges from the truck and strikes me across the face so hard my ears ring.

I move back, cupping my cheek, when he comes at me again, this time bringing his hand down on top of my head. My teeth clank together as tears sting my eyes and blood drips from my nose. Shock whips through me.

Holy shit, he’s going to beat the shit out of me.

He comes at me again with his fist raised, but stumbles, giving me just enough time to swing around him.

I start to take off up the driveway when he grabs my hair. I let out a cry, more tears falling from my eyes. I’m not even sure if the tears are from the pain in my body or my heart. I don’t even care anymore.

Balling my hand into a fist, I swing at him, my knuckles colliding with his shoulder. He grunts, but then yanks on my hair harder.

“Goddamn, Hadley, why can’t you just let this go!” he screams out. “You don’t even know what you’re messing with!”

“A monster!” I shout as I grab his hand and try to pry his fingers off my hair. “Let me go!” I scream.

More screams echo. Not mine.

I glance toward the house and spot Londyn striding forward. Payton and Bailey are by the side door, Payton holding Bailey back with tears streaming down her eyes.

“Let her go!” Londyn shouts at our dad.

Either he doesn’t hear her, or he’s lost his mind, because he only yanks on my hair harder and spins me around toward the truck.

“No!” he yells, his grip constricting. “You couldn’t just leave me alone. Why can’t you just leave me alone?” His voice catches.

I think he might be crying, yet he still doesn’t release my hair.

“Mel, let her go.” The firm voice belongs to a guy, but it takes my wired mind a second to connect a face to it.

Blaise.

“Stay out of this,” my dad snaps at him. “This is none of your business.”

“Do I need to remind you who my father is?” Blaise asks calmly as he hoists himself over the fence and lands in our yard. Then he stalks toward us, taking measured steps. “Now, let go of Hadley, get in the truck, and get the fuck out of here before I call the cops.”

“Too late.” Londyn moves up beside Blaise, her wide eyes fixed on me and Dad. “I already called them.”

“Shit,” my dad and I say at the same time.

My dad quickly releases my hair and dives into his truck, slamming the door. I start to storm after him—no way am I letting him just take off and leave this mess to me—but arms are wrapped around me, holding me back.

“Just let him go,” Blaise says softly in my ear. “It’s better if he’s gone.”

“I don’t want him here”—tears fall from my eyes, but my tone is so hollow—“but if he’s not, my sisters are going to get taken away from me. He needs to give me guardianship first.” I’m about to crumble, fall to pieces that I may never be able to pick up.

I suck in a breath. Then another.

Don’t fall to pieces, Hadley. Keep it together.

Then I hear the sirens, and I damn near collapse.

“I’ll help you,” Blaise whispers, holding me up. “But you have to keep your shit together, okay? They’ll probably take your sisters for a little bit, but I can help you get them out. I promise.”

I nod, hoping to God I can trust him.

At this point, I’m not sure if I’ll ever trust anyone again.

Chapter 22

Like I expected, Social Services show up to take my sisters to a group home while I get patched up in the ambulance and answer an officer’s questions.

Watching my sisters get hauled away in tears, I hate my father in that moment, more than I ever have, even more than when he was hurting me. What makes me feel even more crappy is I should’ve seen this coming. Maybe I did. Maybe I was just living in denial.

“I swear to the moon and back I’ll fix this!” I shout to my sisters as the car they were put in starts to drive away. I stand up from the back of the ambulance, letting the blanket wrapped around my shoulders fall to the ground. “I swear to the moon and back I will.”

Londyn watches me through the back window until she can no longer see me, until I can no longer see her.

Another officer approaches me then and asks even more questions, most of which are about what happened and my dad, like if I know where he went—stuff like that. By the time everyone clears out, my dad is now a wanted man, my sisters are gone, and the blood on my face has dried. My heart, though, still feels like it’s bleeding.

“So.” Blaise steps up beside me as the last officer pulls away.

He’s been hanging around the entire time, answering questions. It’s late. The sun set behind the shallow hills hours ago, and the air has a slight nip to it, yet I don’t feel cold. Numbness. That’s all I feel.

“So,” I mimic as I stand near the side door, staring down the empty driveway.

I should go inside, take a shower, and wash the blood off my face, but I’m not that eager to greet the darkness and stillness awaiting me inside.

“Hadley.” He gently places a hand on my shoulder.

I tense—I don’t even know why—and he quickly removes his hand.

“I should go inside.” I start to turn, but he steps in front of me.

“The paramedics said you might have a concussion.” He levels his gaze with mine. “I think you should sleep over at my house for the night so you’re not alone. I can sleep on the couch, and you can take my bed.”

“I’m fine.” Lie. I’m not even close to being fine.

I’m broken.

He eyes me over with doubt. “Even if you are, it’s still a good idea for you not to be alone. The paramedics even said so; said someone should keep an eye on you.”

“And you want to be that person?” I question in disbelief.

He shrugs, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “I don’t mind doing it.”

“You should. You barely know me. And I’m the one who owes you favors, not the other way around.”

He chews on his bottom lip as he stares at me strangely. “Yeah, I know, but I still want you to stay over at my house for the night, just until we know for sure if you’re concussed. Then tomorrow, we’ll make a plan on how we’re going to get your sisters back.”

He keeps throwing around the word we, and my initial instinct is to correct him, but I feel too disheartened to start bantering with him, so I simply nod and say, “All right, let me just grab some clothes first.” I head into the house, but when he trails after me, I pause. “Can I just have a few minutes? I promise I’ll come over as soon as I get my stuff.”

He dithers then nods. “Sure.”

I offer him what is probably the most miserable yet grateful smile then dash into the house.

The moment the door shuts, I collapse to the floor and cry for five minutes straight. That’s all the time I give myself—five minutes to break the fuck down. Then I dry my eyes and pull myself together, vowing to never break down again. To be strong. Because, if I’m ever going to have a chance to get guardianship of my sisters, that’s who I need to be.

Strong.

Chapter 21

After I grab my pajamas, I go over to the Portersons’ house like I said I would, where Blaise is waiting for me. Their house is surprisingly quiet.

“Alex is still sleeping it off,” Blaise explains as he leads me up a stairway to his room. “And Jaxon and Rhyland are in their rooms, playing video games. No one will bother you, I promise.” He points to a cracked open door as we pass it. “That’s the bathroom, if you need to use it.” He stops in front of a shut door and opens it. “And here’s my room.” He motions me inside.

I step in, noting the space is shockingly clean. The bed is made, there are no clothes on the floor, and there’s minimal clutter.

“Are you a neat freak?” I ask.

He slants against the doorframe with his hands in his pockets. “No, not really. I actually hurried up and cleaned it before you came over here. Kicked a lot of stuff under the bed and tossed the rest in the closet.”

I laugh softly, and a small smile touches his lips. “That sounds like something Payton would do.”

“What about you?” he asks. “Are you a neat freak?”

I shake my head, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “But I clean a lot. Not because I want to, but because, if I don’t, no one else will.”

“Me, too. That’s probably why my room’s so messy—I never have time to clean it. My brothers are slobs. I swear they think the floor is a trash can or something.”

I smile, but this time the move is more forced. Talking about cleaning and his brothers is reminding me too much of my sisters.

“I should probably get to bed,” I say. “It’s been a … well, I’m not really sure what to call today.”

He nods, understanding, and starts to back out. “Of course.”

Something dawns on me. Or, well, I realize I need to say something.

“Blaise,” I say quietly.

He pauses. “Yeah?”

“Thank you for what you did tonight.”

His lips tilt into a small smile. “You’re welcome. And if you need anything else at all, I’ll be downstairs on the sofa, okay?” He waits for me to nod then closes the door, whispering, “Goodnight, stubborn girl.”

And the nicknames are back. But I’m not as annoyed as I usually am.

As silence surrounds me, tears threaten to pour out, but I blink until they vanish. Then I put on my pajamas and climb into bed.

The blanket I pull over me smells like Blaise’s cologne. I didn’t even realize I knew what his cologne smelled like until now. It’s a nice smell. I breathe it in as I roll over and try to get comfortable in Blaise’s bed, something I never thought I’d be doing.

He surprised me today, and not just tonight when he stopped my dad from hurting me, but earlier today. I don’t know what to make of that—make of him—but I’m fairly convinced that the cocky guy I first met by the fence isn’t who Blaise really is.

I’m glad he’s helping me, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to allow myself to rely on him. No, I’ll never be that girl. And not just because of my rules.

Fuck, my rules. They probably can’t even exist anymore, can they? Not with me deciding to pursue guardianship of my sisters.

Reality crashes down on me, heavy and throbbing, just like my injured face. My rules don’t—can’t exist anymore. My future plans are gone. Nothing will ever be the same for me. But that doesn’t mean I’m just going to walk away from this. I knew the moment Social Services drove away with my sisters that I need them in my life. That I can’t let us be separated. That I’m going to have to step up. That that’s what our mom would’ve wanted me to do.

“You’re the bravest of my daughters,” she used to say to me. “Fearless. It’s why I know you’ll make a great racer someday. You’re going to make me proud; I just know it.”

She was right. I am fearless and brave and a damn good racer. I just hope I can make her proud.

As I lie in bed, my eyelids growing heavy, that’s what I think about—making my mom proud. And thinking of her relaxes me. If only the feeling could’ve carried into my dreams …

I’m standing near the street with a river flowing on one side, the sound of car engines filling the air. Then I hear tires skidding, followed by a loud splash.

“No!” my dad shouts from beside me. Then he rushes toward the river, leaving me behind with a mob of bystanders.

I start to run after him, but then my stomach clenches as someone screams.

No, not someone. I’m screaming, because someone is gripping my arms and dragging me back, away from my dad, away from the accident, away from my mom.

I scream again when a hand clamps down over my mouth. “Quiet,” the person warns. “Everything will be fine as long as your dad pays his debt.”

Then I’m picked up and hauled away into the dark—

My eyes pop open, and I bolt upright, gasping for air.

“Holy shit,” I breathe out, my heart a racing mess. “Where the hell did that dream come from?”

Or was it a dream? Because the images … they felt so real. But, wouldn’t I remember if I was taken? That’s something you don’t just forget. Then again, it was eight years ago, and I have those blank memories where the days between my mom’s death and her funeral should be.

I cup the side of my face where my cheek throbs with the reminder of what my dad did to me only hours ago. I had thought he was just starting to turn into a monster, but what if it’s been building over time?

“What did you do, Dad?” I whisper. “What did you do?”

My only answer is silence. That doesn’t mean I’m going to let it stay that way. I will find out the truth, no matter what.

Chapter 22

Blaise

Instead of going downstairs right away, I linger. It makes me nervous that she has a concussion. Plus, her dad is out wandering around, and who knows if he’ll return? It’s not just that that has me worried, though. No, it’s the people her dad’s gotten mixed up with. Like my dad, for starters.

Yes, he’s my father, but that man is corrupt, and so is anyone who works for him. Hadley’s dad isn’t technically working for him, though. He’s just working off a gambling debt that he’s owed for over a decade now. He’s lucky my dad let him off that easy and gets to work as his little bitch. Normally, when someone owes my dad money, especially for that amount of time, things don’t end well for the debtor.

I’m not sure why he let Hadley’s dad off so easily. I could ask, but my dad and I rarely talk, and when we do, he usually tells me nothing but bullshit lies. The best day of my life was when I got guardianship of my brothers and we were no longer obligated to talk to him. Well, not as much anyway. A monthly visit was his stipulation before he signed over guardianship to me.

When I’m almost certain Hadley is asleep, I do a quick sweep through of the house, making sure all the doors are locked. Next, I peer out the window, looking out at the street, frowning at the car parked near the corner.

The tinted windows and luxury are a giveaway that the owner more than likely doesn’t live around here. My bet is it’s the other people Hadley’s dad has gotten mixed up with, something I discovered today while we were at the gas station and I saw Mel in one of Axel’s men’s truck.

Axel is my dad’s rival who does a lot of dealings in drugs and runs some gambling sites. Yeah, Honeyton’s really corrupt, mostly because the people who taint the town are rich enough to buy off the police, my dad and Axel being two of them.

If my dad finds out Mel is working for him, there’s going to be hell to pay. And he may not just go after Mel.

Since the person currently parked outside is either one of my dad’s men or Axel’s—I’m betting the latter—that means Mel may have pissed off Axel. That man seems to have a knack for that. He seems to have a knack for doing a lot of shitty things, like beating his daughter.

My jaw twitches as I remember how angry I felt when I saw him hitting Hadley. It reminded me too much of when my dad hit my mom.

I heard a scream first and looked out the window. Then I saw red and heard nothing but my blood roaring in my heart. I probably would’ve beat Mel’s ass if he hadn’t bailed like a fucking coward.

How he managed to raise someone like Hadley doesn’t make any sense. The girl is tough as hell and strong, and not just physically. Most people would’ve broken the fuck down tonight, yet she held it together. Underneath that tough exterior, though, she’s got to be hurting. I know because I’ve been there, especially when my mom died. And whenever I’m around my father, but that’s for a different reason.

I stay near the window until the car drives away. Then I lie down on the sofa, but I don’t doze off right away, my mind in worry mode.

I think about Alex and how I’m going to convince him to get away from our father’s world and into rehab. I also worry over Jaxon and if he’s ever going to get over this no-talking thing, something that started right after our mom died. Rhyland’s probably the easiest, but his racing concerns me. He’s getting more and more reckless every day. Scarlett’s a handful, too, but she’s only here some weekends. She mostly lives with her mom, though her mom’s new drug addiction is starting to make me question if perhaps she should be living with us full-time.

Yeah, my life is full of stress. Now even more so.

Hadley, Hadley, Hadley. She’s stuck in my mind. I want to help her get her sisters back, yet I’m not sure how I’m going to do that, or how I’ll balance helping everyone out. I barely have time as it is. But something about Hadley feels oddly familiar, and not just because she reminds me of myself. I’m unsure where the familiarity comes from.

The first day I saw her, I knew she was different from other girls. Hot as hell, for sure, and her toughness turns me on, even if that makes me fucking twisted. And that kiss … it was hands down the best fucking kiss I’ve ever had. Well, up until she kicked me in the dick. That part sucked big time.

I guess I sort of deserved it in a way, for being an ass to her when I first met her. But I was trying to protect Alex. Well, that and I suck at flirting. Rhyland’s always giving me shit about having no game. He’s right, but I spent most of my teenage years trying to be a parent. Even before I got guardianship, I took care of my brothers and my sister.

“You okay?” Rhyland asks as he wanders into the living room.

I nod, stretching out on the sofa. “Just trying to sleep.”

He plops down on the chair across from me. “Hadley’s staying in your room?”

I nod through a yawn. “It didn’t seem like a good idea for her to stay in that house alone.”

“I completely agree with you.” He kicks his feet up onto the coffee table. “I’m a little worried about you, too. You’re taking too much on.”

“I’m fine.”

“You always say that.”

“That’s because I always am.”

He sighs as he slumps back in the chair. “You know, it’s weird, but I swear she seems familiar.”

I turn on my side to look at him. “Who does?”

“Hadley.” He shrugs, while I pull my brows together. “I don’t know why, but it feels like I’ve met her before.”

“Yeah, me, too,” I mumble.

“Really?” he asks, and I nod. “That’s kind of weird.”

“I’m sure we’re just being weird,” I say. Still, I can’t shake the feeling that maybe he’s right. Perhaps I have met Hadley before. But when?

I guess it doesn’t really matter right now. All that does is getting Alex help, keeping my siblings out of trouble, and helping Hadley get her sisters back. I just hope I can handle everything