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“What do you mean you're stuck? Did you get your wheelchair caught up on something?”
“No. I'm pressed in a corner and this chick is in the bathroom…singing.”
Chick?I drop down on my sled and stick my key in the ignition. “For the love of God, Maddie. Are you seeing shit again?”
“No, I’m not seeing shit.” The defensiveness in her tone is obvious. “I’m completely of sound mind and body. Have been for days. Someone is definitely in there singing.”
“Can you see who it is?”
“One sec,” she whispers, even softer this time.
There's a beat of silence before she returns and says, “Definitely a girl. Curly blonde hair. Dancing around and using a shampoo bottle as her microphone.”
“Son of a bitch!” I press my lips together. “It’s gotta be Riley. Stay where you’re at. I’m coming.”
I end the call, immediately shooting a group text to Crew and Jagger.
Me: Make it clear to your girl that her dumb-ass friend is not welcome to freely roam around our house. I’m heading home to kick her ass out for good. Skipping the rest of the day.
Not waiting for a response, I stuff my phone in the inside pocket of my leather jacket and take off for the house.
In record time, I’m pulling up directly in front of it. I turn off the engine and hop off, leaving my keys in the ignition. I walk quickly to the door, sweeping the fallen snow from my hair. As soon as I’m inside, I shout, “Riley!” But it’s not enough for her to hear me, if she’s still in the basement.
With heavy steps, I stomp through the living room to the basement door, leaving a trail of snow behind me.
“Riley!” I shout again, this time much louder. My feet thud down the stairs as I continue to holler. “Where the fuck are you?”
When I reach the bottom, I make a beeline for the bathroom and see that the door is already wide open. Before stepping inside, I give the basement a lazy sweep, immediately spotting Maddie in the far corner with a stack of boxes surrounding her and her wheelchair.
Riley spins around, still holding a bottle of shampoo in her hand, and her cheerful expression drops. “Neo. Hi. What are you doing home?”
I snatch the bottle of shampoo from her hand before violently tossing it to the floor. The top comes off on impact and clear liquid oozes out. In the same breath, I snatch her phone, that’s blasting “What Other People Say” by Sam Fischer and Demi Lovato, off the vanity and end the song then slam the phone back down, unsure if I cracked the screen, but not caring either way.
“Are you mad? I’m so sorry,” she begins with a panic-stricken expression, “I wasn’t feeling well, so I left class early and—”
“And what? You thought you’d come to my house and help yourself to my shower?”
“Technically, it's notyourhouse. It belongs to The Blue Bloods.”
My phone buzzes against my breastbone, so I pull it out and read the text message from the guys, while Riley pleads her case about how Scar said she could stay here, so she assumed it was fine to come back.
Jagger: Relayed the message and she stormed out of the school to get some fresh air before her next class. Said she wants to be alone. She’s pissed.
With my phone clutched in my hand, I return my attention to Riley. “I don’t give a flying fuck what Scar said. She’s a guest, the same as you. It’s high time both of you show a little respect. Now get your fucking shoes on and get the hell out of my house.”
Am I being harsh? Yes. Does she deserve it? Hell yes, she does. This isn’t a fucking shelter for the lost and needy.
“You’re…” she stumbles over her words before finally spitting out, “…really mean.”
Classic. Shouldn’t expect anything else from Riley. She’s far too sweet, and with that demeanor, she’ll never make it as a Guardian.
“I am mean and you’re about to see just how mean I can get.”
“I’m going,” she scoffs. “Just give me a darn minute.”
My hands press to the vanity and I drop my head, wondering how much longer I have to deal with these idiots. Scar is one thing—I can handle her. In fact, tormenting her is sorta fun. Riley, on the other hand, is not part of the plan and her being here is nothing short of an inconvenience.
The sound of boxes moving around has my eyes shooting to where Maddie is hiding.If looks could kill.She’s furious. No, she’s fucking irate. I shake my head no, and mouth the words, “Not yet.”
