“She’s into whatever I’m into. That’s what makes it so good.” He turns off the video and slides his phone back in his pocket. His eyes narrow. “Are you judging me or something?”
Yes. Of course, I’m judging you, you complete fucking psycho.
But I don’t say anything. What can I? If I defend Syd, he’ll think I’m jealous and make it twice as bad for her. Acting aloof is probably the best thing I can do. He’ll get bored soon enough and head back to school, where he can terrorize college girls. Shit. That doesn’t make me feel any better.
I suck in a breath. “I think you probably should stop showing people a video of you choke-fucking a high school girl if you don’t want to get slapped with a charge. Does she know you have that?”
He laughs. “I told you, she’s a freak. She asked me to record it.”
Honestly, it fits. Sydney films, and streams, ninety percent of her day. From brushing her teeth to her late-night ramblings and dance marathons, Sydney loves to document every little fucking thing. If anyone would want visual proof she’d had sex with my brother, it would be her.
“Whatever. As long as you’re covering yourself,” I say, heading to the door.
“One more thing.”
I pause, feeling the annoyance and irritation build in my spine. “What?”
“There’s a fight coming up, a big one up in Peachford. People are coming from all over to be in it.”
I sigh and press a hand against the door jamb. “I can’t. You know that.”
“Can’t or won’t, doesn’t cut it, baby bro. The winner’s pot is going to be epic. You’ve been out of the game long enough that people are talking.” From the pinched look on his face, it’s obvious what he thinks of this. There’s a reason he never wanted me crossing paths with the Devils back in his day. The thought of me being more popular—more wanted—always made him the meanest. “They asked for you specifically.”
“I don’t need any money.” I swallow, adding, “You’re not my manager, Heston. Stop acting like it. I’m not fighting for you or anyone else. I’m done with that shit.”
I step into the hallway, adrenaline and fear pumping in my veins. ‘No’ isn’t something my brother is used to hearing, but it’s time. If Sugar can let me touch her, every single day—if my mom can wake up some mornings with that sunny smile of hers—then I can shut Heston down.
I get to the stairs and as I take the first step, his voice rings out.
“I see you’ve got some new friends over there at Preston.”
I turn slowly, keeping my face blank. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Only now, I’m starting to realize that he’s been fucking Sydney, the biggest loudmouth I know. She absolutely would feed him intel from inside the school.
Intel like his brother having a new girlfriend.
I’m expecting it so much that when he says, “I hear you’re getting pretty tight with Vandy,” it takes a suspended moment for it to really sink in.
I laugh.
And then I keep laughing.
“Fucking hell, Heston. If you want to go after Vandy, then it’s your funeral. Emory and Reyn would absolutely smoke your ass.” Of all the people I worry about, Vandy is near the end of that list. Sure, she’s a sweet little thing with her own vulnerabilities. But she’s also completely locked down.
Heston’s face goes dark at this, eyes flashing angrily. “You don’t want to fuck with me, Sebastian. You’re going to be in that fight.”
I volley back, “No, I’m not,” and I know from the storm in his eyes that it’s a mistake—something that’s going to bite me in the ass. There’s no escaping Heston’s abuse. Not for me. Not for Sydney. But there’s one person I’m determined to protect and I’ll do everything I can to make sure that he never finds out Sugar exists.
22
Sugar
“Shhh.”
“You shhh.”
“I’m trying to be quiet.”
“What do you think I’m doing?” he asks, making as much noise as a bull in a china shop. After weeks of patience and ten bags of treats, Lucy and Abby have finally grown comfortable with us. At least, until Sebastian drops the metal can of food on the sidewalk, sending them all scurrying off. “It’s fucking cold as balls out here. My fingers are frozen.”