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“Maybe.” I restrain a smile. “I do have one more question, though … about how Jay quit working for your dad.”
His brows pull together. “I’m not sure what you’re getting at.”
“Well, it’s just that, from what you’ve told me about your dad”—and from what his dad told me personally—“it doesn’t seem like you can just quit working for him without any repercussions.”
That sparkle that was in his eyes dims. “You’re eerily accurate about that.”
“So then, how did he do it?”
“Honestly, I’m not sure, but I think him moving away might have had something to do with it.”
“You think his punishment for quitting was moving away from Honeyton?” No, it couldn’t be that easy.
He shakes his head. “No, I think he left to endure his punishment where no one he knew would have to see.”
I gulp. “But he returned to Honeyton eventually and is okay now, right?”
He shrugs stiffly. “It’s hard to say for sure. Some people are really good at pretending to be okay when things are far from it.”
It’s like he’s reading my soul aloud.
It’s damn near terrifying.
“We should go back inside. They’re probably wondering where we are,” he says distractedly, staring off into La La Land.
I nod then follow him inside, rattled, unnerved, and worst of all, scared. Usually, I’m way better at keeping my fear under control. Or at least pretending not to be afraid.
Pretending to be okay.
I’ve been pretending for so long that I’m starting to question if I’ll ever be able to stop and feel freely for once. Part of me wishes that possibility was plausible, but the other part of me is terrified of what’s hidden inside me.
Hadley
I remain fairly quiet for the rest of lunch. Like Scarlett promised, the food is delicious, but sitting around the table with the seven of them, listening to them reminisce and laugh, makes me miss my sisters big time. By the time it’s time to return to school, I’m tired and miserable and in no mood to joke around and laugh with Scarlett. Thankfully, she decides to skip out on the rest of school and help Sofie with some sort of super-secret project.
“Are you sure you don’t want to stay with me?” she asks as we cross the bar, heading for the back door. “We’re going to have a lot of fun, and Sofie is going to teach me how to ride a dirt bike.”
“That does sound awesome,” I answer truthfully. “But I’ve missed a lot of school already and I’m trying to get my shit together so …” I shrug. “Sorry.”
She struggles not to frown. “Maybe another time?”
“Oh, totally,” I promise her as I dig my car keys from my pocket. “In fact, one of these weekends, you should come over to my house and hang out with my sisters and me.” That is, if I ever get them back.
Don’t fucking lose your shit now.
“That sounds fun.” A smile illuminates her face. “You know, I’ve always wondered what it’d be like to have sisters instead of a bunch of brothers. It seems like it’d be a lot less smelly and loud.”
“We’re definitely less smelly for sure, but my sisters and I are loudmouths.”
“Yeah, I knew that the moment I met you.” She teasingly smiles as we reach the door. “I’ll see you at school tomorrow.”
“Yep.” I wave. Then, noting I have approximately five minutes to get back to school before the late bell rings, I rush outside to my car.
Not a whole lot of time left to get there, but if there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s getting places quickly. I just hope another damn sketchy cop doesn’t pull me over on the way.
I manage to get to school without getting a ticket and I’m on time. As an extra bonus, I make it all the way through school without missing any classes. A first for me since we moved to Honeyton so, yeah, go me!
All celebrations aside, a gloomy cloud is hovering over my head as I stop by my locker to grab the books I need to complete tonight’s homework. My mind is stuck in Worrying About My Sisters Land, a cloudy and stormy place to reside. But I can’t leave—can’t stop thinking about them—until I talk to them, find out if they’re okay, and get them back home. But, where is home exactly? At the house I currently can’t go to without running into, as Mr. Porterson put it, an “entrepreneur.” Or well, that is if Axel views his job the same way as Mr. Porterson.
“Man, I need to figure out a way to get him off my back,” I mumble as I stuff a book in my bag.
“Hey, you’re Hadley Harlyton, right?” A guy almost as pretty as Blaise props his shoulder against the locker beside mine, startling the crap out of me. As I work to regain my breath, he tries to dazzle me with a charming smile. “I think we have second period together.”
My guard instantly goes.
Pretty boys always put me on edge. And this guy is beyond pretty. I bet some might even say more so than Blaise, but I wouldn’t agree with them. Where Blaise’s all dark clothes, studs, and leather with a few piercings and, according to him, tattoos—although, I’ve never seen these alleged tattoos, so I’m still skeptical they exist—this guy’s all wrinkle-free, button-down shirts, slacks, and … yep, just like I guessed, freakin’ shiny-ass shoes.
Seriously, you can never trust people with shiny shoes.
I shrug, grabbing my English textbook from the top shelf of my locker. “If you say so, then I guess I’ll take your word for it, but honestly, I have no clue who you are.”
“Ouch, that hurt.” He presses his palm to his chest, his grin broadening, a dimple in his cheek appearing. “You’re ruthless.”
“That wasn’t ruthless. That was mildly cruel.” I sling the handle of my bag over my shoulder and slam my locker, preparing to leave.
He hurriedly straightens and walks beside me as I start down the crowded hallway. “Well, ruthless or not, you still haven’t answered my question.”
“What question?” I ask distractedly as I check my messages.
No new messages. Dammit, I was hoping Blaise would have some info about my sisters by now.
“Your name’s Hadley Harlyton, right?” His interest in my name puts me even more on edge.
/> “Actually, it’s Belinda.” I use the alias I gave a couple of guys I met at the trailer that Blaise and I picked Alex up from.
His eyes dance with amusement. “All right, I’ll play along. Belinda what?”
“Belinda, My Last Name is None of Your Pretty Boy Business So Please Turn Your Shiny Shoes Around And Leave Me Alone Dude.”
Instead of getting offended, he appears quite the opposite—completely entertained.
“That’s quite the last name,” he muses, rubbing his jawline. “But I think you might be lying to me, Belinda.”
I shrug as we reach the end of the hallway. “Believe whatever you want.” I start to push the door open when he folds his fingers tightly around my injured wrist. “Hey, back the hell off,” I warn, jerking my arm.
His grip constricts. “Maybe before you start smarting off, I should introduce myself.” His tone is eerily calm and emotionless. “I’m Austin Maeiriellie.”
Austin … Why does that name sound familiar?
My head throbs as I try to figure out the answer. I’m not certain where the pain is coming from, either from the potential concussion I had, lack of sleep, or the ass load of stress raining down on me.
I really need to get some sleep.
“Thanks for introducing yourself.” My voice oozes with sugary sweetness. “Now, when I punch you in the face and knock you out, I’ll have a name to give the paramedics when they show up to haul your unconscious ass to the hospital.”
His lips twist into a delighted, wicked grin. “I think you and I are going to have some fun, aren’t we?” He squeezes my wrist until my eyes water. “But I should probably tell you who my father is before you start throwing punches and make a huge mistake.” He drags out a pause as my muscles ravel into tense knots, the dots slowly connecting. “I think you might know of him. Axel Maeiriellie, the man your father double-crossed.”
“Son of a bitch,” I grumble. “That’s why your name sounded familiar.” Blaise had warned me about him earlier today. Said Austin was straight-up crazy, which I can see.
“You’ve heard of me.” An arrogantly pleased smile stretches across his face.
