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I’m trying not to freak out. I really am. But I’m kind of freaking out. “Why, though? I mean, why is anyone watching my house?”
He lifts his shoulders. “Maybe they’re looking for your dad.”
“Or maybe they’re looking for the bag of drugs and money buried in the backyard,” I mutter in frustration.
His eyes widen. “Wait. What?”
My tension skyrockets. Sure, Blaise has been really helpful the last couple of days, but he’s the son of a very corrupt man who might be after my father. It might not be a good idea to tell him about my father’s secret stash, especially when I have no damn clue who the drugs and money belong to or how my father got them to begin with.
“Hadley, you can trust me. I promise.” He must sense my reluctance. “I’m not part of my father’s world and in case you haven’t figured it out already, I don’t want to be.” He skims his thumb across my wrist. “I promise, whatever you tell me won’t leave this kitchen.
I blow out a stressed breath “There you go making promises to me again.”
While part of me doesn’t want to tell him—wants to handle this myself—the truth is I have no clue how. Should I get rid of the bag? Should I give it to the guys in the driveway? Are they going to try to hurt me? Are they going to try to hurt my dad? Do I even care about the later?
I have no answers for any of those questions, so I can either wander into this cluelessly and hope for the damn best or put my trust in a guy I barely know, but who has helped me out more than anyone has in a very long time.
I sigh in defeat. “The other day, I saw my dad burying a duffel bag in the backyard, so I dug it up and found, like, a brick of cocaine and a shit ton of money inside it. I’m not sure where he got it or why he has it, but it’s part of the reason why we got into the fight yesterday. I also saw him collecting a bag from some dude while we were at that gas station yesterday. I’m pretty sure you saw that, too. You just pretended like you didn’t.”
Guilt crosses his face. “I was pretending, but only because I didn’t know how to tell you.”
“That my dad might be double-crossing some very corrupt dudes?” I ask and he nods. “Who was the guy he got the bag from? Was he one of your dad’s men of this Axel guy’s?”
He releases a deafening exhale. “I’m pretty sure it was one of Axel’s men.”
“So, you think the drugs and money buried in my backyard belong to Axel then? Maybe that’s why the car is parked in the driveway. Maybe Axel just wants his drugs and money back.” Okay, I know I’m being naïve, but I don’t want to get mixed up in this shit. I can’t, not if I want a chance at getting guardianship of my sisters.
Blaise considers something quietly, carefully. “I don’t want to frighten you, but if your dad has a bag of drugs and money buried in your backyard, he probably stole it. And considering what we saw go down in the gas station parking lot yesterday, I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s not the only thing he’s stolen. If that’s the case, whoever he stole from is really pissed off at him right now.”
Blood roars in my eardrums. Goddammit, why is my dad such an asshole? “And what happens when these people get pissed off?”
His throat muscles work as he swallows hard. “I don’t know.”
“I think you do, but you don’t want to say it.” I wait for him to divulge the truth, but his lips remain fused. I press the heel of my free hand to my forehead and take a deep breath. “What do I need to do?”
With his fingers encompassing my wrist, he draws my hand away from my forehead while ducking his head to level his gaze with mine. “You don’t need to do anything right now but go to school. Then I’ll try to get ahold of my dad today and get some information on what’s going on.”
“And then what?”
“We’ll figure out the next step once we know how much trouble your dad’s in.”
We. We. We. We. We.
It’s like his favorite word.
And it just might be my least very word. Because we means together, which means reliance and dependence and trust, none of which I’m comfortable with.
Before I can work up a good protest, though, Alex, Rhyland, and Jaxon come filing down the stairs. Rhyland is the first to step into the kitchen and a knowing smile pulls at his lips. I start to crook my brow, like what’s up with the cheesy grin, dude? but then I become hyperaware that Blaise and I are standing close enough to kiss, and that he’s holding both my wrists.
I step back before the rest of the Porterson clan sees, particularly Alex who will have a mocking field day with this. But I move too slowly and both Alex and Jaxon get a good view of the semi-intimate position Blaise and I are in.
“What’s going on?” A winked glint gleams in Alex’s eyes. “No, let me guess. You,” he points to me, “were trying to make out with my brother and he had to restrain you.”
I wiggle my wrists from Blaise’s hands and take another step back. “Actually, I was just about to show your brother the proper way to put an asshole into a headlock, but since you’re here, maybe I should do the demonstration on you. It seems more fitting.”
He gives me a hardy har har look to which I return with a cocky grin.
“Well boys, this sleepover’s been super fun, but it’s time for me to say goodbye and move on to way more fun things.” I toss them all a grin and pull open the door, doing what I do best—being the epitome of calm even when I’m stuck in the middle of a raging ocean.
But Blaise captures my elbow.
I groan, my head bobbing back. “Seriously, dude, what is with you and grabbing me?”
He glances at his brothers, who are watching the scene with intrigue, then he guides me over to the side into a washroom covered in piles of dirty laundry and lowers his voice, “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to drive yourself to school today.”
“I’ll be fine.” I give his arm a reassuring pat, pretending like the way his breath tickles my skin doesn’t make me want to shiver. “It’s just school. Nothing’s going to happen there.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” he mumbles. “And besides, your car’s parked in the driveway, right by the other car in question.”
Dammit, he has a point, but still…
“I need to drive this morning,” I gripe. “It’s how I alleviate tension and deal with stress. If I don’t, then I’m going to be a jittery, evil bitch all day.”
I half-expect him to say something like: aren’t you already? Instead, he moves back with his face set in deep contemplation and says, “Maybe you could drive one of our cars to school then?”
As much as I love the idea of driving Rhyland’s GTO, I can’t accept Blaise’s offer. For one, Rhyland probably wouldn’t be cool with me driving his car—I wouldn’t if the roles were reversed. And secondly, I’m not sure I’d be comfortable driving Rhyland’s car the way I need to drive right now.
“Thanks for the offer,
but I can’t accept it.” I inch away from him, but he keeps his hand on my elbow. “Blaise.” I fight to remain cool. “You have to let me get to school. I’ll be fine driving.”
“It’s not the driving part I’m worried about. It’s you getting your car out of the driveway,” he whispers. “Whoever’s in there is going to get out and talk to you.” He leans back, his gaze colliding with mine, his brows arched. “Are you ready to handle that?”
No. “Yes.”
“Liar.” He rubs his lips together, worry creasing his brow. “If you really need to drive your car, I’ll go get it.”
I elevate my brows. “You want to drive my car? Seriously?”
He gives me a tolerant look. “Just to my house.”
“But you’ll still be driving for like a minute. And I barely let Londyn drive my car unless it’s necessary. And she’s my sister, so …”
“Hadley.” He’s a mixture between being frustrated and amused. “You don’t want to have to deal with those guys. Trust me. So, if you’ll please trust me enough to drive your car for like fifty feet, then we can go to school, I’ll call my dad, and then we’ll figure something out.”
“You think calling your dad will get them to leave?” I question in doubt.
“If they’re his men, then yes.”
“And if it’s not?”
“Then…” he huffs out an exasperated breath, stepping back and yanking his fingers through his hair. “Look, I don’t have all the answers right now, okay? But I am trying to help you, so if you’d just let me, I’d really appreciate it.” I bite down on my lip, struggling not to smile. He totally notices and shakes his head. “You think my frustration is funny?”
“No. But it is sort of funny that you’re frustrated, yet you managed to politely ask me to let you help me. Really, it should be the other way around.”
And I’m right. And I know this is the point where I should start accepting his help gratefully and showering him with thank yous, but his kindness makes me uncomfortable. Honestly, as twisted as this is going to make me sound, I feel more at ease when we’re arguing than when we’re being nice to each other. But I guess, if I go by Rhyland’s theory, that’d mean I’m comfortable when Blaise and I are flirting.
