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He jerks his head over his shoulder. “You can take my bed. I just changed the sheets.”
“I’m not going to take your bed.”
Shawn puts a hand on each one of my shoulders and starts guiding me down the hallway. “You’re taking the damn bed. I’ll sleep on the couch. Malakai should be home any minute now, and I can’t guarantee he’ll be alone. It’ll be quieter in my room.”
“Fine,” I concede. “But only because your couch really sucks.”
“Go to bed, Jazz. We’ll talk in the morning.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
JAZZ
“Thanks for the ride. And for everything last night.”
Shawn pulls his navy blue BMW 328i up to the curb, two houses down from Belle’s. The sedan is over ten years old, but the boy keeps it obsessively clean. Boys and their cars, amiright?
“You sure you don’t want me to drive you two somewhere?”
“I’m sure.” I nod, leaving out the part that Belle probably wouldn’t be happy to see him. She liked Shawn well enough while we were dating, but she loves Kingston, and I’m afraid seeing Shawn would confuse her.
“At least reconsider the ride home. There’s no point in paying for one when I can do it for free.” He looks at the backpack on my lap. “You can leave that with me, and I’ll bring it back.”
That’d probably be the smart thing to do considering the Glock I have wrapped in the shirt I wore last night. It’s not loaded, but still. I don’t like the idea of carrying a weapon when I’m spending the day with my sister.
“Yeah... okay. Maybe meet me back here around five?”
Shawn searches my eyes for a moment. “I can do that.”
I offer him a soft smile. “Thanks again, Sha—” Movement down the street catches my eye. “Ah, fuck.”
Shawn’s gaze follows mine. His shoulders stiffen the moment he notices Kingston coming right at us, glaring holes through the windshield. Damn it, I should’ve known he’d show up here.
“Oh, fuck no.” Shawn practically rips the keys out of the ignition and opens the car door.
“Shawn, don’t.”
He scoffs. “Sorry, Jazz. I’m not backing down on this. That preppy fuck has some nerve showing up here.”
I scramble out of the car, catching up with him right as Kingston reaches us. The two men stare each other down, the animosity between them tangible. A muscle jumps in Kingston’s cheek while Shawn clenches and unclenches his fists. Neither one of them says a word. They just square off, trying to murder each other with their eyes.
I insert myself directly between them. The last thing I need right now is to have them throw punches at each other, then have to deal with someone calling the cops. Both men are pretty evenly matched in size, and Shawn has legit street smarts, but after seeing Kingston fight at Peyton’s birthday party, I think he could actually do some real damage to his opponent.
“Jazz, move,” Kingston grits out.
“Don’t talk to her like that,” Shawn retorts.
A cruel smirk forms on Kingston’s lips. “Or what?”
I hold my arms out on either side as they both take a step forward. “Both of you. Knock it off.”
Kingston’s eyes meet mine for the first time. “Is this who you’ve been with all night?” His eyes are bright green today, almost glowing with intensity as he awaits my answer.
I pop a brow. “So, what if it was?”
His eyes narrow. “Then we’re going to have a problem.”
I scoff. “Oh, we already have a problem, Kingston.”
