Dirty Toe Drag (Nashville Assassins Next Generation 6)

Shelli rolls her eyes. “Aiden wants to name him Hulk.”

We all look at my brother, who is putting a cheese tray in the fridge. “He would be the only one with that name.”

Emery nods. “And a total disappointment when he doesn’t turn green and Hulk smash stuff.”

I hook a thumb at her. “You’re setting him up for failure.”

Aiden doesn’t seem convinced. “Whatever. But Samuel is good? I want something strong because he’s going to be the most badass kid ever.”

I look back at Shelli just as Emery does. With a huff, Shelli says, “See what I deal with?”

Emery snickers as Aiden waves us off. “You know I’m right. Where is Dad? He’ll agree with me.”

“He’s outside by the grill, unhappy that Stella isn’t a virgin.”

When Aiden gags and starts for the door, I roll my eyes and then grab his wrist to stop him. “Hey, have you spoken to Wes since y’all got back?”

His brow furrows. “I talked to him when I dropped him off.”

“What about after that?”

Shelli glances over at me from where she is picking at the grapes. “You haven’t heard from him?”

“No, and I’m a little worried.”

Aiden makes a face as he pulls out his phone. He hits something and then brings it to his ear, waiting. When he hangs up, he types something and then looks up at me. “That’s weird. He never ignores my calls.”

I nod. “Yeah. I might head over there again.”

“Again?” he asks, and Emery nods.

“Yeah, I told her to break in since he won’t answer the door, but she won’t listen to me.”

We all look at her, and Shelli says, “Because no one is trying to go to jail but you.”

She snorts as she shrugs. “You guys are just scared and jealous. I always get what I want.”

Aiden ignores her, looking back at me. “Is he mad at you?”

I shrug. “He might be, but the whole situation has me worried. I can’t tell you anything ’cause it’s his business.”

To my surprise, he accepts that before looking back down at his phone. I watch as he brings it up to his ear. “Hey, do me a solid and call Wes. Yeah, I just need to know he’s okay. He’s not answering my calls. Thanks.”

“Who was that?” Shelli asks.

“Boon.”

My stomach clenches. “I don’t want to overwhelm Wes.”

“That’s why I called Boon.” He looks down at his phone, answering it as it rings. “Hey. Okay, thanks. Yeah, I’ll let you know.” He hangs up and says, “Yeah. He’s not answering Boon either. Maybe I should go over?”

I shake my head. “No, I need to fix this.” I bite my lip as I look back at my phone with no texts from Wes. I’m so frustrated. “Should I give him space?”

Aiden shrugs. “I don’t know the whole story, so I can’t tell you one way or another.”

“What does your heart say?” I look at Shelli as she asks, and she moves some of my hair behind my ear. “You know your relationship and what’s going on with him.”

My throat tightens. “I feel like I need to go over there again.”

“Then go,” Aiden says simply. “We can cover for you.”

“For sure,” Emery says just as the back door opens and my parents come in. Before I can thank my siblings or even sneak off, I’m trapped in my chair because Mom and Dad are loving on Shelli and Aiden. I’m two seconds away from jumping the counter—which is what Emery did—when Asher and Ally come into the kitchen.

“Hey. The door was open, and you’ve got mail,” Asher says before he kisses my mom and hands her the mail.

Dad makes a face as he hugs Ally. “I miss that when I would log on to AOL.”

“Dad, your age is showing,” Emery teases, and everyone laughs. I take that as my chance to sneak away.

I don’t get far.

“Stella, it’s a letter from school.” I turn suddenly, but before I can even grab it or move through this entirely too-big family to get to her, she’s already opening it. Her brows come in as she holds what looks like a check and then the letter. She looks across the bar at me. “Why does this say you withdrew from school?”

Oh fuck.

My stomach drops, and all eyes are on me. Aiden has that “oh shit” look on his face that he always wore when I would tell on Emery. Asher looks like he has no clue what to do or even say, and Shelli and Ally look as if they want to leave.

Please, God, take me with you.

Dad is gawking at me, confused, as he asks, “Did you drop out?”

I hold out my palms to them. “Yes, but I have a good reason.”

Mom’s eyes widen. “Stella Ann, you had a 4.0! Are you crazy?”

Maybe? “Listen, can we talk about this later? I can’t do this right now. I need to go see—”