A Deal With the Devil (Boys of Preston Prep 2)

“Oh thank god,” my mother exhales, then lunges forward to pull me into a hug. “We were so worried.”

“We were looking everywhere!” Emory growls, but the spark of terror in his wide eyes belies the anger of his voice. “What the hell, V?!”

“It was my fault.” Reyn’s voice is still thick with sleep as he steps up behind me. “Or I guess, technically Dennis Rodman’s.”

“No,” I state quickly. “It was no one’s fault. It was just a mi—” I start to say mistake, but that excuse isn’t going to work here, not without dredging up a lot of bad memories. “I had extra food from dinner, and I thought maybe Reyn and Mr. McAllister would like some. Reyn was alone when I got here, and we fell asleep on the couch, watching TV. I’m sorry.” I’m relieved to know that Reyn and I both look the part, eyes heavy and squinting against the porch light. He even has a sleep line pressed into his cheek.

“I’m just glad you’re okay,” Mom says, stroking my hair. Her hands feel needy and possessive. “I got home, and you weren’t in your room and Emory hadn’t seen you. I panicked, but your brother remembered the phone tracker app and it said you were here.”

I try to hide my embarrassed recoil at being lo-jacked. “I didn’t mean to worry you.” I keep my eyes off of Reyn. “I didn’t mean to stay, really. I think it was just a testament to how tired I was.”

My mom frowns. “Are you not getting enough sleep? Should I make an appointment with Doctor Cordell? Maybe he can prescribe you something.”

Emory replies with a sharp, “No!” at the same time I warn, “Mom.” This is exactly why I tell her nothing.

My mother doesn’t catch the censure in Em’s voice, but I do. I’m sure it’s not lost on Reyn, either. “Okay, okay. Let’s get you into bed, then.”

“Wait,” Reyn pipes in, suddenly disappearing. When he returns, he’s holding the empty plate, looking rueful as he extends it to my mom. “Sorry, Mrs. Hall.”

We’re at the driveway when I look back and see Emory having a low conversation with Reyn. This is why I tell him nothing, either.

Once we’re in our yard, Mom says, “That was very generous of you to take the McAllisters dinner. I know things have been strained between the two of you. Understandably.”

“Reyn and I are fine,” I say, adding quickly, “you know, for the limited amount of time we’ve seen one another. It was no big deal. I had a lot of extra lasagna and I know with Mrs. McAllister gone, there have been a lot of delivery cars coming in and out every night.”

“Well, considering everything, I think it’s very generous of you to look out for them like that.” She squeezes my shoulder. “I’m proud of you.”

The thing about my parents is that they’d initially rallied for Reyn to be charged. I’m not sure how they went from wanting him locked in juvenile detention to this strange sort of pity they feel toward him now, but I know that it happened after his hearing, three months following the accident. Neither of them would tell me the details.

I follow her into the house, scooping up Firefly on the way. I glance back once more, and my brother is walking back, Reyn standing alone now in the doorway. Our eyes meet for a moment, sending a spark across my nerves, before he steps back into the house and out of sight.

Before I can disappear into my bedroom, Emory catches up to me. “What the hell, V?”

I give him a tired look. “What?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were leaving?”

“Does it matter?” I look at him accusingly. “Apparently I can be tracked anywhere.”

He rolls his eyes. “As if Mom and Dad couldn’t track my phone, too.”

“But they never do!” I storm into my room, heedless of him entering behind me. “You can accidentally fall asleep at a friend’s house and it’d be no big deal. This is exactly what I was talking about.”

“What do you expect? You just walk out, no note, gone ‘til midnight. Do you have any idea—” His voice cuts off with a choked sound. “When it’s the two of us here, I’m responsible for you. I’m always responsible for you.”

If Emory were any other sibling, that might have sounded bitter. Instead, it just sounds sad and exhausting.

I look at his slumped shoulders and drawn face, and can’t help but feel bad. He’s not lying. Our parents put way too much pressure on him to look after me, as if he doesn’t already put enough on himself. “It really was an accident. I thought I’d just be in and out.”

“Just tell me next time,” he pleads.

I flop onto my bed and make the only promise I know I can keep. “I’ll try to be more considerate, okay?”

He’s pacified by this enough to leave, which is good because I can’t put this uncertain feeling into words. This new thing we’re doing…it’s so hard to know what normal even is. Would any other girl tell her brother she’s popping over next door? Would any other girl have to explain why? Would any other girl have to hide that she’d kissed a guy tonight, and that it didn’t matter, because he’d brushed her off.

The kiss.

God, just remembering it makes my insides plummet in equal parts excitement and humiliation. The latter is tempered by the knowledge that he seemed just as into it as I was. That was easily the hottest thing about it, although the feeling of his mouth sliding against mine, those hands holding me to him, is a close second.