Page 44 of Hating On Riot

That boy needs to give up the ghost and move on.

But aren’t me and Arie in the same predicament?

I blow out a breath. We are.

Now I’m here with the girl of my dreams, and she trusts me enough to tell me someone’s threatened her. The gods must be smiling down on me. She trusts me to keep her safe. Hold up. Scratch that. The gods aren’t smiling. They’re pissed. I’m pissed.

“When? Did you file a police report? You should’ve come to get me.”

“Today. No,” she says meekly. “I should’ve. I’m sorry. I panicked.”

“Understandable.” I slide my arm across her small shoulders and pull her close, comforting her. “We should file a report.” This won’t be the last of it.

She shakes her head. “This is between us. Just us, Riot. Please. Promise?”

“I can’t. Not when your safety is at stake.”

She looks at me with a crestfallen expression. “I drove to McMillan and buried the critter under an oak tree. The girls and I used to meet there when the leaves changed color. We would drink our pumpkin spice lattes and admire nature’s beauty.”

She sighs, then stares at her sneakers. “I made a small gravestone for Estelle from a rock I found on the ground, and I buried her in a small box I had forgotten about in the trunk.”

Rat became critter. Critter turned into Estelle. All life is precious to Arie, and my heart hurts that she had to witness how cruel someone can be to a critter who hadn’t harmed anyone.

The only harm Estelle did to whoever killed her was to exist, to be available to that person. Wrong place, wrong time. My heart also hurt that Arie went through the ritual of giving Estelle a proper burial, and she did it by herself. She must’ve cried. By her fucking self. I ball my fist. I should’ve been there for her.

“When today?” We were together almost the whole day.

“Between when you dropped me off after we ate and when you ran to the store for the ingredients I asked for.”

Her voice is so soft that I have to lean in to hear her.

She wanted to bake chocolate chip cookies for the guys in the house, and when Arie wants something, she gets it.

“That was half an hour tops, Arie. It takes at least twenty minutes to get to McMillan, then the time to drive back . . .” I run my fingers through my hair.

I must’ve underestimated how long I was away. She confirms it.

“You were gone for over an hour.”

“Damn it. I’m sorry, Arie. I lost track of time.”

I would’ve been back sooner, but I ran into Dare and Midnight. We got to talking about my brothers’ construction business and how the kings of Dumas—what everyone calls him and his cousin, Dare—are looking for a bid on demolishing an old building on the border between Dumas and McMillan.

Midnight has a hankering to build a café for his on-again, off-again girlfriend, Riley Lee, that would also double as a bookstore and a gathering place for local independent creatives. Of course, he had to make it clear that “creative” was his woman’s term, not his, 'cause he’s no wuss for using language like that.

That boy has it bad. I heard he burned down the house of a guy who showed a little too much interest in his girl. That guy is something else when it comes to his temper and possessiveness.

“It’s okay. You’re here now, and that’s what matters.”

I grasp the proud yet stubborn jut of her adorable chin. “You could’ve waited for me.” The words are out before I can think them through.

You could’ve waited for me!

Sirens blared in the distance.

Her wails of agony through the phone line gut me.

She’s dead, Riot. My sister is DEAD!