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Still, I didn’t take well to being bullied. Once at a party after senior year, she cornered me and picked a verbal fight that turned into a physical one. I wasn’t proud that I’d popped her in the eye—I didn’t even realize I knew how to punch somebody until that moment—but I couldn’t deny the satisfaction when I saw her walking her shiner around town.
We’d been pulled apart and carried off like a couple of feral cats, her by Wyatt and me by Sebastian. He’d practically thrown me over his shoulder and dumped me in his truck, sweeping me away from the party and to the river. We sat on the rock overhang and talked all night. His mom’s health was in decline, and she was wasting away from chemo, and that night, he told me he wouldn’t ever have kids. That carefree levity only teenagers can achieve had weighed him down, sobered him. Aged him. He became an adult that summer, long before any of the rest of us.
It was also when he told me he wanted out of Lindenbach, wanted to see the world and change it for the better.
He was always too big, too bright for this town.
But somehow, he ended up chained to Marnie. For a minute, at least.
Smile refreshed, I turned to her with her order, setting the coffee and pie on the counter between us. “Anything else?”
She picked up her fork and sectioned off a piece, bringing it to her perfect lips. Marnie was a stunner, the all-American, cheerleading, apple pie sort. The kind of girl no one refused, a trait bred into her by her father and her family’s position. In fact, I’d be willing to bet that the only person who’d ever told her no was Sebastian, the one person she wanted to hear yes from.
See? Be nice. She loves Seb.
Another part of me snorted. Get in line, sister.
“It’s cold,” she said flatly and pushed it in my direction.
“You know what? Let me get you a new one. On the house.”
Her eyes narrowed a tick. “How was the party last night?”
There it is. “Fine. You know how it is. The usual suspects.”
“Bastian knows how to throw a party, though. Doesn’t he?”
It’s a trap! I heard in General Ackbar’s voice in my head. “Sure,” I answered noncommittally. “Let me get that pie—”
“We’re still married, you know.”
I couldn’t hang on to the smile. “I do know.”
“Just wanted to make sure. I’d hate for you to get caught in the rumor mill over fucking a married man.”
She took a sip of her coffee, and I masked my shock at her dropping an eff with Pastor Coleburn within earshot.
“Duly noted.” Mercifully, Aggie made it back behind the counter. “Hey, Ag—Marnie here needs a piping hot piece of pie, if you’d please? My shift’s over.”
“My pleasure,” Aggie said with a smile as fake as mine, using her meaningless server phrase of choice on the worst sort of asshole to ever eat pie.
“Thanks,” I answered sweetly. “You have yourself a good day, Marnie, all right? I’ll let Seb know you stopped in.”
The look on her face was priceless. That mixture of shock, offense, and sheer fury was a heady concoction indeed.
Before she could respond, I turned on my heel and headed for the back, my hands shaking as I dumped a perfectly good piece of pie in the trash. When I made it to the lockers next to the office, Bettie appeared in the doorframe and leaned against the threshold.
“Fuck her,” Bettie said. “Marnie Mitchell has been a spoiled brat since she splashed head-first into this world. So when you leave here, it’ll be with a smile on your face and your chin high. She doesn’t deserve anything more than your pity. Because for all she has, she’ll never get what she wants. But you? You, Presley Hale, can have the whole wide world, if you ask nice.”
I relaxed, a laugh rolling out of me. “I’ll start with Lindenbach, if that’s all right.”
“Like I said”—she pushed off the doorframe—“all you gotta do is ask.”
“Thanks, Bettie.”
“Any time, kiddo. Now go get to necking with the Vargas boy while you can.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I answered and headed out the front door to find him.
6
Little Darlin'
SEBASTIAN
Sun dappled the grass stretched out before me, the heat sticky and the breeze welcomed as I sat on a park bench waiting for Presley’s shift to end.
I was seated far enough from the people at the park to watch them unobstructed, mostly families with kids brave enough to risk scalding their asses on the playground equipment, along with a few childless townies who’d wandered in to enjoy a little bit of outdoors.
One of the kids had caught my attention—a little boy had been fearlessly running laps on the equipment from the monkey bars to the zip line, up the stairs, down the slide, and around to do it again, intermittently screaming Ninja Warrior! The woman I assumed was his mother had a book in her lap and seemed to be enjoying a quiet moment to herself.
