Falling for Hadley: A Novel (Chasing the Harlyton Sisters 2)

When I pull into the driveway of what I hope is still my place of residency, all the lights are off. Of course they are. Why would they be on when no one’s home? Part of me—and maybe a naïve part—secretly hoped when I pulled up, some miracle would’ve happened while I was gone, and my sisters came home. But no, the house is as quiet as it was when I left this morning.

Next door, the lights are on and the Porterson brothers are hanging out outside, music blasting from the stereo. Rhyland is messing around with something underneath the hood of his GTO while Blaise and Jaxon are lounging around in rusty lawn chairs, drinking beers and talking about something. Alex is nowhere to be seen, but I’m not that surprised.

The scene makes my heart ache in a way I never thought possible.

I want my sisters back.

The instant I pull up, skidding into the driveway, the engine growling as I downshift and slam on the brakes, Blaise springs to his feet and starts to stride over to my house. But he slows to a stop, a crease crinkling between his brows as he takes in the Porsche.

When Rhyland glances over, a WTF expression crosses his face. He tosses the rag he’s holding onto the ground and storms up beside Blaise. Jaxon remains seated, but slants forward with his gaze on the car.

“Oh good, they’re outside.” Amelia grins at the Portersons as she reaches for the door handle. “This’ll make things so much easier.”

I shove the car into park. “Make what easier?”

She pushes open the door. “Oh, having a little chat with Blaise about our deal.”

“What deal?” I ask, but she’s already jumping out of the car.

Sighing, I shut off the engine and glance back at Austin. He’s lying in the backseat with his arm draped over his forehead and his eyes are closed. He hasn’t made a single noise during the entire drive except for a moan when I sped around a sharp corner without slowing down, which resulted in him getting thrown from the seat.

“Are you alive back there?” I ask as I unclip my seatbelt.

He cracks an eye open. “If I wasn’t, would you kiss me and see if you could bring me back?”

“No, but I’d give you a shot of adrenaline straight to the heart,” I say, making a stabbing gesture. “Pulp Fiction style.”

His other eye opens and I think he smiles, but it’s hard to tell with how puffy his face looks. “I knew you liked me.”

I roll my eyes, then pause. “Why did you let him do it?”

A pucker forms between his brows. “Do what?”

“Let that woman beat you up? You didn’t even try to fight back.”

“And you would’ve?” he challenges.

I drag my teeth along my bottom lip. “There was this one time back in middle school where this high school age girl tried to kick my ass. Granted, I probably deserved it—I was a real brat back then.”

He sinks his teeth into his lip, then flinches. “Just back then?”

“Yes, I’m an angel now,” I say with a straight face, causing him to chuckle. “But anyway, she tried to kick my ass. And everyone kept telling me to just curl up and take it—the girl was freakin’ huge and I was all chicken legs and arms. But I wouldn’t listen—wasn’t very good at that either. And I ended up throwing punches and kicking and pulling her hair. And do you want to know what happened?”

He rolls his eyes. “Let me guess. You kicked her ass.”

“Oh no. I got my ass kicked. Damn bitch even broke my arm.”

He stares at me, utterly confounded. “How is that story supposed to help me?”

“Because if the thirteen-year-old me can try to defend herself against a girl who probably has a really good chance at becoming a professional boxer, then you’re bulky, muscly,” he starts to smile until I add, “And very hairy-chested self can at least try to defend yourself against your dad and his little minions.”

“They’re not really little, though,” he reminds me. “And my dad… Fighting back isn’t really something I was taught to do.”

I gently pat his arm, making sure not to touch an injured area. “All my dad ever tried to teach me was how to lie, cheat, steal, and get wasted and look how fantastic I turned out.” I flash him a cheeky grin then shove the car door open. “Take care of yourself, dude.”

“I will,” he assures me. “But if my ass gets kicked, you get to come play nurse for me.”

And that ends my little trying-to-be nice moment.

I snatch up my bag from the backseat, hop out of the car, and hike toward the fence that divides the Porterson’s property with mine.

“I don’t really give a shit what’s going on,” Blaise is saying to Amelia, but trails off, doing a double take when he notices me walking toward him. “You’re okay?”

“Of course.” I wave it off, but inside I feel like I’m slowing withering from the stress and worry. “Always am.”

He shifts away from Amelia and walks toward me, his gaze sweeping up and down my body. My gaze does the same to him, taking in this lean body, his nearly perfect face, his gorgeous eyes.

Why were you in my memories?

Do you remember why?

Have you been lying all this time?

“Did he hurt you?” Blaise asks as he nears me.

I stop at the fence. “Austin?” I dismiss his question with a wave of my hand. “Nah, that boy is a sweet little kitten at heart.”

Blaise gives me a tolerant look. “I doubt that, but I meant Axel.”

“Oh.” My everything-is-fine attitude slightly falters. “No, he didn’t hurt me.” At least physically. Mentally, I feel all achy and bruised from the mental mind game Axel and I played.

“Are you sure?” He scans me over again.

“Blaise, I’m fine.” I hoist myself over the fence, place my hand on his shoulder, and look him straight in the eye. “He didn’t even touch me.”

He presses his lips together forcefully, then sweeps a strand of my hair behind my ear. “Are you sure?”

When I nod, he visibly relaxes. That is until Amelia struts up to us, swaying her hips.

“See you on Saturday, gorgeous,” she purrs, then pushes up on her toes and drags her teeth along his earlobe.

Blaise jolts, then sidesteps, swatting at her like a bug. Me, I’m not sure what to make of it, but it bothers me. And Rhyland more than notices, giving me a knowing look.

I roll my eyes. I’m so not in the mood for this, buddy.

Smirking, Amelia spins toward me and sticks her hand down her shirt. “This is for you, beautiful.” She pulls out some cash from her bra and hands it to me.

I take the bills from her, holding them at the edges. “Gee, thanks.”

“You earned them.” She smashes her lips against my cheek

then skips off.

I seal my lips together and remain that way until Amelia has gotten in the car and drove off.

“Okay,” I shatter the silence. “Will someone please tell me what the hell is going on?” I reel toward Blaise. “And why did you make a deal with that crazy chick?”

“You made a deal with Amelia?” Rhyland practically shouts, stalking toward Blaise. “Are you fucking insane?”

“I didn’t have a choice.” Blaise spins toward him and gets in his face. Standing side-by side I realize the two of them are about the same height. “It was either that or…”

“Or what?” Rhyland snaps, clenching his fists. “What could possibly be so bad that you had to make a deal with that raving lunatic and bring her back into our lives?”

“I think it might be my fault,” I chime in, not wanting to cause friction between them. “So if you’re gonna yell at anyone, yell at me.”

Rhyland glances at me. “How the hell is it your fault?” He flings a hand in the direction Amelia drove off in. “And how the hell did you even end up with them?” His hand falls to his side. “And why is Amelia giving you tit cash and kissing you.”

“First off, she just kissed my cheek,” I say. “And second of all, what the hell is tit cash?”

“Cash chicks pull out from under their tits. You know, the cash they hide in their bras.” He nods at my chest.

“Hey, I don’t have any cash in there,” I reply defensively. “My tits aren’t even big enough to hide cash underneath them.”

Blaise’s gaze briefly flicks to my chest. “I’m sure you could hide cash in there if you wanted to… Your tits are fine… More than fine…” He massages the back of his neck, only tearing his gaze off my chest when I cross my arms.

Rhyland gives him a really look. “Seriously, bro, you’ve got to work on your game.”

“You really do,” I agree. “And besides, you can’t say my tits are more than fine if you haven’t even seen them.” When both Blaise and Rhyland look at me expectedly, I shout, “I’m not going to show you my tits!”

“Bummer,” Rhyland mumbles and Blaise smacks him in the gut, hard enough that Rhyland wheezes. “Ow,” Rhyland cries out. “What the fuck was that for?”