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On our way, we pass byRetribution,which is back in its rightful place. Wes pauses when he notices.
“The fuck?”
“Oh, right.” Kellan stops next to him and stares up at the painting. “We discovered who stole it.”
Wes shoots Kellan an impatient look when he doesn’t continue.
“It was Colton,” he says. “Colton, Xander, and Lucas. Cal and I stole it back yesterday. Forgot to mention it until now.”
“Motherfucker,” Wes grumbles.
“We got him good,” I say. “Trashed his brand-new car.”
Athelia peers into the hallway while making sure to keep distance in between her and Wes. “Haven was looking at that painting on Halloween.”
I exchange a knowing look with the guys. Saying Colton is obsessed with Haven is an understatement. I think his preoccupation with her might be more intense than ours with Athelia.
Better not to dwell on that.
“Anyone else hungry?” I start pulling out food from the fridge for sandwiches.
“Sure,” Athelia says absently. When Wes makes a move to enter the kitchen, she darts to the other side of me.
“I think we should give Athelia her own room,” I say.
This time, Wes’s glare is pointed at me. “Absolutely not.”
“Not to sleep in,” I add. “Just a place for her to store her stuff and do her homework without disturbance.”
“I want my own bed,” Athelia says.
“No,” we all reply at the same time.
Turning to me, Athelia says, “I still don’t want to sleep with Wes.”
“That’s not optional,” Wes snaps. “You’ll sleep with me as often as you sleep with them.”
“I don’t want to.”
“I don’t care.”
They stare at each other for a second. I expect one of them to lash out. For Athelia to push him more or for Wes to force her to submit to his will again.
Instead, Athelia’s shoulders sag. Her voice is defeated—hurt, even—as she says quietly, “You’re no better than your father.”
His eyes flash. This morning before we left the cabin, it felt like Wes wanted to punish Athelia somehow. She was blatantly showing him that she preferred me over him, and it made something in him snap.
Now, that all falls to the wayside. Wes hates Kammes more than anyone else—more than he thought he hated Athelia and more than he hates himself for needing her. Athelia comparing the two of them is the worst insult she could’ve come up with.
“Stepfather,” Wes corrects. He moves closer until he’s towering over her, and his voice is low and threatening. “And I’d take that back if Iwere you.”
She has to tip her chin up to look at him, but her jaw is set. “It’s the truth.”
“I’mnothinglike him, you hear me? Nothing.” Wes’s mask of calm is slipping quickly. His fists are clenched, and that vein near his temple is pulsing visibly.
“Then prove it to me.”
The way Athelia says it catches all three of us off guard. My thoughts come screeching to a halt, and Wes jerks his head back in surprise.
