Bane (Sinners of Saint 4)

“Are you going to see Luna Rexroth today?” Luna was Edie’s stepdaughter. Edie was crazy about her. Luna had come to my mom twice a week since she was practically a baby. She’d decided the whole talking gig wasn’t for her early on, but it was my understanding that she was talking to Edie, Trent, and my mom. Only a handful of words, so I guessed she still classified as a basket case at her school. Poor kid.

“Be good to your girlfriend.” Mom smoothed my wrinkled shirt, tucking my shark-tooth necklace into it. The doctor-patient privilege did not extend to the therapist’s son, apparently.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” I spat, watching her slipping into her car and sliding her sunglasses on with a smile.

She looked up to the sun, pointed at it and said, “Sometimes the sun is a liar. Sometimes it’s out, even though it is cold.”

I opened my mouth to say something, but nothing came out.

Later that day, I headed to the beach to train Beck.

I’d like to say it was solely for the purpose of preparing him for the looming competition I was sponsoring, but I was trying the whole honesty thing to better myself and such, so I should probably mention I knew that Hale was going to be there, and I had some unfinished business with the fucker. Namely: Jesse.

I found Beck, Hale, and Edie sitting outside Breakline, her surf shop. She was waxing her surfboard on the sand in a little white bikini, and from afar, I could see the uncanny bulge peeking above her bikini line. Pregnant.

Every now and again I asked myself how come Gidget wasn’t knocked up yet, and honestly, I was surprised they’d lasted seven years before deciding to give Luna a sibling. Edie was a nurturer by nature. Either way, I was happy for her. I knew she hadn’t said anything to anyone, because I would be the first person outside her immediate family she’d tell, so I kept my mouth shut. Hale was painting old surfboards shirtless, and Beck was already in his wetsuit, reading something on his phone—it better had been his competitors’ stats, because the asshole was too chill, and I’d put some big money on his gig.

“Douchebags, Dudette,” I greeted, dumping my surfboard on the sand next to Beck’s Firewire. He had the sickest surfboards, but that came with the territory of spending his entire paycheck on them.

Edie looked up from her board and smiled, squinting her eyes under the sun. “What’s in the bag?”

I was dangling the bag with Jesse’s present in my hand absentmindedly and hadn’t even noticed. Damn. “The necessary tools to castrate Hale.”

Beck and Edie laughed. Hale didn’t. He knew exactly why I was pissed at him. I cocked my head sideways, my smirk sending an arrow of venom all the way across to him.

“A word,” I said.

“I have a feeling I’ll be hearing a lot more than one, and none of them will be to my liking,” Hale groaned, but followed me into the store. I sauntered to the mini fridge behind Edie’s counter and took out a beer. He fell into a donut-shaped beanbag, flicking dirt from his fingernails and looking skyward, as if I was a melodramatic cheerleader who’d just found out he’d liked some other chick’s photo on Instagram. I placed Jesse’s present on the counter carefully and turned to face him.

“Have you texted her yet?”

“Texted who?”

“Don’t fuck with me. I fuck harder. Comes with the territory of doing it for a living.”

“I’m not fucking with you. I’m genuinely wondering what you are talking about.” He blinked, still playing coy. I didn’t know why Hale wanted to get a rise out of me, or people in general. It was my personal suspicion that he was bored out of his mind and looking to antagonize people because the two people he wanted so badly to piss off—his own parents—controlled his every move, including his future. He wanted to become an entrepreneur and spend his days bumming around, but it so happened he couldn’t have what I had—his hand was twisted into becoming a professor like his dad—so that’s what he was going to be.

“What do you think I’m talking about?” Okay, now I was beginning to sound like a cheerleader. What did you do to me, Jesse? I want my balls back.

He made a show of rubbing the back of his neck, exhaling loudly. “I don’t know. I collected all the protection money a day early. I’m helping Gidget with her shop. I’m just a nice guy doing nice things.” He flashed me a toothy, wolfish smirk I wanted to wipe off his face with my boot. “Guess you’ll have to enlighten me.”

“Jesse Carter.” I splashed my fingers over the counter, standing behind it so I wouldn’t launch myself at Hale accidentally. Or not so accidentally.