“Robyn texted me. She said she’s worried so I thought I’d check in.”
I laughed. Good old Robyn. She could see through my bullshit like glass on a clear day. “You have your own problems. You don’t need mine.”
He was quiet for a few seconds, staring down at the floor. I saw the depth of his emotional turmoil roiling below the surface and I wished I could reach in there and pull him out of all that noise. He looked back up and forced a sad smile.
“I know all about keeping it locked up. I’m just saying, you’ve been good to me all these days. You’ve always been there. So if you need someone, I’m there for you, too.”
“Thanks, Sam,” I said, trying not to get emotional. My little brother was growing up.
“Anyway, Jarrod’s outside.” He stood up so casually I thought I might scream.
“Excuse me? He’s what?”
“Outside. Parked a few minutes ago. I figured I’d make sure he wasn’t the reason for whatever’s going on before I told you.”
“And if he was?”
“I’d send him away.”
I laughed at the idea of Sam telling Jarrod to do anything, but Sam definitely wasn’t joking.
I loved my little brother so much in that moment.
“Jarrod’s not the problem,” I said, shaking my head. “I’ll go out and talk to him.”
“Cool. Uh, tell him good luck in his next game from me, I guess. It’s weird you’re spending time with Jarrod Hale. Are you two dating?”
“Sam.”
“Right, okay. Later.” He disappeared back into his room.
I got up and hurried outside before Mom and Dad noticed Jarrod’s truck. I climb into the passenger seat and he turned to me, his face drawn into an intense stare, half desire and half anger, a twisted smirk on his handsome lips. He wore gym clothes like he’d just gotten out from football practice, and his hair and skin were still damp with sweat. His musk was heavy and intoxicating.
“You’ve been ignoring me.”
I didn’t try to deny it. “I wasn’t ready to talk.”
“Are you ready now?”
“I don’t know if I ever will be.”
He killed the truck’s engine. We were parked halfway between my house and the neighbor—a nice old widow named Mrs. McCloud. She kept her yard immaculate and her front door always had a new wreath every month, all year round.
“I’m not going to let that detective throw us in a cage for what we did.”
“I’m afraid you don’t have much choice.”
“Believe me, freak. I’m only getting started.”
I let out a frustrated laugh. “Why do you always act like you know what you’re doing? I keep thinking about it, and I’m pretty sure you’re making it all up as you go.”
“You’re not wrong,” he said softly. “But that doesn’t mean I’ll let you down.”
That got my heart rate racing. “Why do you think this is all on you? I knew what I was doing when I got involved in this. I was the one that started everything, remember?”
He looked at me quietly. That stare always made the small hairs on my arms stand up with fear and expectation. Sometimes I forgot how big Jarrod was—he was a hulking human, a monstrosity of a man, and he could rip me into pieces if he really wanted. I was trapped in a truck with a murderer, and I should’ve been so much more frightened.
Instead, the thought only made the dark places between my legs trill with need.
He shifted closer, head tilted, studying my lips.
“When you came to me, killing Silver was only a dream. I made everything happen, from the very first move to the last strike of the knife. If it weren’t for me, we would’ve spent years talking about it, and nothing ever would’ve happened.”
“You can’t actually know that.”
“You never would’ve done it, freak. You think you’re a stone-cold murderer, but you’re not.” He leaned closer. I moved back toward the window, shrinking away from the intensity of his voice. “I’m the monster in this truck. I’m the one that gets off on violence and blood. You think you’re into it, but you’re a fucking tourist.”
“You don’t know me.” I felt my anger rise again. It only made him smile. “You think you’re so smart, even though you pretend like you’re some big, dumb jock. Which one’s true then? Which are you?”
“I’m whatever you want me to be.”
“I think you’re full of shit. I think you don’t know what you are so you fill up all your wounds with anger and hate. Isn’t that why you get in so many fights?”
“I fight because it quiets the voices in my head.”
“The voices that are only there because you don’t have anything else to quiet them.”
His teeth clenched. “You have no clue what you’re saying.”
“I don’t? Enlighten me then.”
“I lost my junkie parents at ten. I moved into my abusive fucking uncle’s house and took beating after beating so Robyn wouldn’t have to. I’ve been the worthless piece of shit in that house for as long as I can remember. You think you know what it’s like to be me? You have no fucking clue.”