Feuds and Reckless Fury

I just expected him to get back up again.

To go back to the way he was last year and every one before that.

Something inside him changed, though, and there’s no covering up the fury that ripples from him. All summer, he’d made himself scarce. When his father, Ryan, moved out of the apartment he’d been staying in since the divorce and into Dad’s and my place after the proposal, Canyon still never came around. I didn’t have to see his sorry ass at all.

That reprieve has ended.

I can feel it.

The way he practically attacked me said everything…

He’s out for blood, and mine is first on the list.

Voss is an idiot, though, if he thinks I’ll sit around and let him toy with me. His arrogance is suffocating, but over the years, I’ve learned how to breathe anyway.

It’s called coping.

Surviving.

Doing whatever it takes to hold onto the life you have because the alternative really fucking sucks.

I was ten when Dad adopted me. My home life up until that point had been harsh and scary at times. Worse than any physical pain I endured was the psychological torture I went through. I was a husk—unwanted and unloved. But then, Quinn Sommers was there with his gentle smile and big heart, saving me from everything that hurt and terrified me. It was too good to be true. I didn’t want to believe it.

I still don’t.

It’s the only thing I can believe in, though.

The clock is ticking away for when he’ll inevitably give me up if I don’t prove to him that I can be the good son he took in all those years ago.

He’ll keep me when I graduate.

I know he will.

Yet…doubt makes me wonder.

He’ll be married to Ryan. What if he won’t need me anymore?

Bitterness coils in my gut like a venomous snake ready to strike. I’d been tense and ready for a fight this morning since I received a text from an unknown number. It said: You don’t belong with him. Even though it was clearly a wrong number, it got to me. All of my insecurities about being temporary in Dad’s life came roaring to the surface. Seeing Voss was like a match thrown on my resolve to behave. He was practically thrumming with pent-up rage, and I wanted nothing more than to release a little of my own.

“Sommers!”

I stop in front of Mr. Garrison’s door, turning to face the source of the voice. Leon ambles my way, creating a wide berth as he walks. Leon is a big-ass dude, but he’s harmless. People don’t know that, though. All they know is he rarely smiles and follows me like a shadow, which creeps them out. Something about Leon has always brought me comfort. Not much in this life has besides him and my dad.

“Miss me, Moore?” I flash him a flirty grin just to watch his face burn crimson.

“Ha,” he deadpans. “You have Garrison first hour?”

“Someone has to be valedictorian. May as well be me.” I shrug, my gaze sweeping up his massive frame. A fading bruise colors one side of his face, the yellows and greens a blatant reminder of his home life. Hard. Like mine once was. “Your old man being an asshole again?”

His features fall, emotionless, and he nods. “Same as always.”

“Want me to kill him?” I ask, completely serious.

At this, he lets out a derisive snort. “What’s your goofy ass gonna do?”

I poke his stomach, knowing I sometimes get a silly bark of laughter from him, which he hates but entertains me to no end. He swats at me, but I dodge, grinning at him. “See. I got this.”

“Dick,” he says with complete affection.

If Leon swung my way, I would’ve begged him to fuck me two summers ago when he whipped some kid’s ass for shoving me at the movie theater. Something about his protective nature changed how I saw him. He went from friend to someone of interest. Sure, he’s not built like Voss or any of his emptyheaded football freaks, but he’s solid and big, just like I like them.

It’s probably for the best that he’s only got eyes for one person—a girl.

Sad thing is, she’s taken. Poor Leon will never get the chance.

I follow him into Garrison’s trig class, eager to get to work. And by work, I mean flying through my assignment so I can think about the project in my studio. I’m working on another sculpture that I can’t seem to get right. I know if I run it through my head a few more times, I’ll work out the kinks in my design.

I’m so focused on Garrison’s lecture, mentally working through all the equations at rapid speed, when I feel the heat of someone’s stare. Without tuning out what Garrison says, I cut my eyes to the right, surprised to see Voss. He’s sprawled out like a Greek god at his desk, softly drawing circles with his fingertips on Naomi’s back, bright blue eyes burning a hole into me.