“Boys,” I hear my father holler from the foyer. “Were you raised by wolves? Why is the front door wide open?”
At the sound of his voice, Shayne’s expression morphs from anger to fear in record time. I think about sneaking her out the back, not wanting my father involved in any of this, but it’s too late, because two sets of footsteps grow louder, about to walk in at any moment.
Both my father and grandfather appear wearing matching uncertain expressions. “Shayne,” my father says, trying—and failing—to sound pleasant. “Well, I must say this is a surprise.”
“Hi…Mr. Ames,” she stumbles on her words, not knowing how to refer to him anymore. Not that she ever called him Dad. Her wide eyes dart to mine, begging me to save her.
He appraises her for a moment, and unease pricks my spine. They haven’t seen each other in nearly a year, and I have no idea how he’s going to react to her being here in the house. “Don’t be ridiculous. You know you can call me August.” He smiles. “I’ve been meaning to check in since I heard you were back.”
“I was just taking her home,” I cut in before she can respond, angling my body in front of hers.
“Of course,” he says easily, his eyes shifting between the two of us, but the moment we walk out that door, I know he’s going to demand answers. And I can only hope that Holden and Christian will come up with something halfway believable. “Give Elena my condolences.”
He’s doing his best to be polite, but my grandfather, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to have the same idea. He eyes her with such disdain that it catches me off guard. Seems I’m not the only one harboring a grudge. Even more surprising is the fact that my need to protect her is still alive and well, buried underneath all the resentment. Talk about fucked up.
“Sure.” Shayne nods, a frown tugging at her pretty features.
I shoot Holden a look telling him to do damage control and he gives me an almost imperceptible nod to let me know he’s got it, and then I’m walking out of the house with Shayne right behind me.
Shayne
What was I thinking? I cannot believe I just barged into Whittemore like a psycho. Going over there was a half-baked plan at best. I didn’t know if anyone would be home, but I definitely didn’t expect to see August. He’s never home. Even when we lived there, I could count how many times I interacted with him on both hands. If I thought Thayer was cold, August was ice. But the two of them have nothing on his grandfather.
He’s old money and has that air of superiority thing down pat. He clearly hasn’t forgotten our last encounter at the funeral, if the way he was looking at me is anything to go on. It was as if he was trying to see inside my soul and figure out my motive.
Thayer walks ahead of me, heading for his matte black Challenger Hellcat. Even his vehicle manages to look sinister. I ignore the way my stomach flips at the idea of being inside it again. He unlocks the door, and I slip into the smooth leather seat, pulling my seatbelt over my chest.
“Where’s your car?” Thayer asks, looking straight ahead at the dark driveway. He pushes the ignition button, and the engine roars to life, the seat vibrating beneath me. A thrill shoots up my spine remembering how it felt to fly dow
n the back roads at night with Thayer’s hand cupping my thigh.
“Shayne. Your car. Where is it?” Thayer repeats.
I scoff. “Like you don’t know.”
His nostrils flare, clearly losing patience as he looks over at me.
“Okay, fine. You didn’t do it,” I concede, crossing my arms and sitting back in my seat. “It’s in the student parking lot. Came out after my game and found it like that.” But if he didn’t do it, then who did? Taylor wouldn’t have had the time. She was with me for the better part of the day, anyway. Unease creeps in, and I find myself wishing it had been Thayer. Better the devil you know than the devil you don’t.
We spend the remainder of the short drive home in silence as “What It Is to Burn” plays softly. So many things run through my mind, and I want to take advantage of this rare display of human decency by asking him everything he’s avoided telling me. Why did he go cold on me that night in the barn? What happened after I left? Why doesn’t he seem to ever go to school? But my pride won’t let me ask any of those things.
“Your mom gone?” he asks, and I can hear the judgment in his tone. He dips his head to look out of the windshield at my house. No lights. No cars. No movement.
“Out of town for work,” I say shortly.
“She do that often?”
I snort out a laugh. “You mean work? Yeah. She doesn’t have the luxury of staying home.” My tone is snotty and defensive, but I’ve seen how people in this town have treated her. I’ve heard the whispers. But for it to come from Thayer, when his dad is the one who left her high and dry, it’s a low blow.
“Thanks for the ride.” I push the door open, and by the time I get out and close it behind me, Thayer’s out of the car, rounding the hood of his Challenger.
“Is there something you’re trying to say?” he asks, coming to a stop in front of his lit headlights.
“Not all of us were born with a silver spoon in our mouth.”
He chuckles darkly, closing the distance between us. I take a step back, the backs of my thighs hitting the front bumper. “Is that what this is about?” he asks, tucking a wayward strand of hair behind my ear, and I fight the shiver that threatens to roll through me. It’s not fair for his touch to be so sweet when his words cut like a knife. It’s not fair that he still has this effect on me. He widens his stance, making our height difference less apparent. “Because you didn’t seem to care about that when you were begging me to fuck you.”
My breath catches and I shove his shoulder, but he barely budges. He looks down at his shoulder with a smirk, as if he barely felt it.