“Yep.”
“Okay, good, that’s a solid lead. We’ll spend the next few weeks working up a plan.” Emory looks out over the group. “Everyone down with that?”
The general consensus is yes, and when it’s clear that’s the focus of the meeting, I stand quickly, ready to get the hell out of there. My brain’s already at the shop, elbow-deep in a half-rebuilt transmission. I’ve slipped one arm into my jacket when Georgia approaches me. The expression on her face doesn’t bode well. We’d decided not to tell her about what went down this morning, but maybe she found out anyway. People at Preston do love to yap their goddamned mouths. It’s not that Georgia’s a weak person—not by any means. But sometimes the smallest reminder of that video is enough to ruin her entire week.
“Georgia,” I say, piling on the charm. “How are you this evening?”
At least she looks better today. She didn’t go all out with the makeup and hair, but she’s put together, bouncing back. “Stuff it, Wilcox,” she says, arms crossing. “What happened with Sugar?”
I blink in surprise, realizing that glare isn’t even about the guys with the video. “Wanna be specific?” I ease my other arm into my jacket and zip up the front.
Georgia rolls her eyes. “I know she came to see you last night. She was really pissed about that little gift you sent.”
“Yeah, she came to the garage. We discussed it and agreed to put the emblem on the ‘Stang. So what?”
Her eyes narrow at the word ‘agreed.’ “Then why did she come back more upset than she left?”
Oh.
That.
Question of the century, obviously. I’d been right about Sugar all along. Something about her is broken. More specifically, someone did the breaking. It was so fucking hard to keep my temper in check when she admitted that someone hurt her. I’m not an idiot. Whatever happened, it was bad. Bad enough that now she can’t even stand being touched, and how fucked up is that? I wasn’t lying when I said I wanted to kill them. If she ever tells me who did it, I’ll stop at fucking nothing to make them pay. People think I’m all about the violence because I’m a restless, aggressive, fucked-up rich boy. They aren’t wrong, they just aren’t completely right, either.
The thought of someone hurting a person who doesn’t deserve it always gets my hackles up. It makes this tense, red-hot thing in my chest roar to life like a screaming engine. There’s a reason I was so hard on myself after hitting Sugar.
But there’s only one answer to Georgia’s question. I rake my hair back in frustration, pitching my voice so the others don’t hear. “I don’t know what’s up with that girl, G. She’s so damn hot and cold. She hates me, but she’s always around. She’s always telling me to be better, but gets mad when I do something nice for her. She’s fucking exhausting.”
Even Georgia can’t argue with that, shoulders drooping. “Look, I don’t know her that well yet, but one thing is obvious. Sugar acts strong and mean, but she’s hiding some serious baggage.”
I look around at my fellow Devils and Playthings, gesturing. “Who isn’t, right?”
“I think hers might be a little more sensitive than what you’re used to, is all.” She touches my arm, pleading, “Just be careful, okay?”
I cut through the remaining Devils, passing Reyn and Vandy, and head upstairs. At the top I pause, bending down on one knee, fussing with my shoelace. This uncomfortable, shitty idea is brewing in my head. I hear heavy footsteps on the stairs and look down to see Reyn. I stand and push the door open. “You headed out or waiting for Vandy?”
“I’m leaving,” he says, striding forward. “She’s going to ride with Em.”
“Cool.” I look both ways and make sure no one is around to see us leave. Worst case, Dewey sees us and starts snooping around, but anyone spotting Reyn and I exiting the Devil’s tower together will start the rumor mill. Luckily, the coast is clear.
Halfway across the quad, he says, “So what’s got you in such a pissy mood tonight?”
“Nothing.” I clench my fists inside my jacket pockets. I know Reyn and Vandy had to work through a lot of shit to really get together. Baggage, jealousy, a psychotically overprotective brother and parents. This dude had to work for his girl. I respect the hell out of that, and right now I need his advice. “Can I ask you something?”
He cuts his eyes my way. “You can try.”
Squinting into the distance, I try, “There’s this girl…”
“Sugar, right.” He gives a sharp nod. “I think all of us know by now that there’s ‘this girl’, Bass.”
“Well, you know we have that history. Beyond Preston shit,” I elaborate, raising my eyebrows meaningfully. “It’s not a great situation, what happened with her over the summer. I’ve tried to apologize but it doesn’t seem like it helped much.”
He glances at me, chuckling. “Is that what an apology looks like these days? Shoving your tongue down a girl’s throat?”
“Seeing as how she wants my dick, I figured it couldn’t hurt. Minor miscalculation on my part.”
“She wants your dick?” He looks at me like I’m crazy. “She acts like she wants to decapitate you and put your severed head on a spike in front of Hayden as a warning to the others.”
“I know, right?” I can’t help the dopey grin I give him. “Be still my beating heart.”