“It’s like this,” he starts, and I can see the tension in his eyes. Whatever this is, it’s stressing him out. “This is going to require a few quick and dirty B&E’s, and you’re the only one here who can get into Thistle Cove. They’ve really upped the security since that girl went missing and their coach was fired for being a fucking pervert. You’ll have to pick a couple locks, probably. But Northridge is easy, and Tyson’s a transfer, so he knows that place like the back of his hand. He’ll be able to get in and out, no problem.”
I bristle at this. “I can get in and out of Thistle Cove.” In no fucking world is Tyson better than me at this. Maybe he’s better at being a ‘good guy’, and maybe he’s better at deceiving stupid girls, but breaking into places he doesn’t belong? In no world. “A couple locks aren’t going to stop me.”
“Here’s the thing…” He grimaces, and I know he’s holding something back. “Thistle Cove has a fence.”
Ah.
I shift my gaze back to Vandy, considering. I wonder if she’s ever going to make eye contact with me. I probably fucked things up last night. I mean, things were already tense between us, adding in another uncomfortable situation was piss-poor thinking. “What kind of fence?”
“Chain link,” he explains. “Maybe eight feet?”
“I can cut it.”
He shakes his head. “This has to be completely non-destructive.”
“So I can pick the padlock.”
“Can’t.” He shrugs. “Padlock’s out front, full view of the cameras. The only way in there is to jump it.”
I roll my eyes, thinking of Vandy scaling the tree house. “I don’t think you’re giving either of us enough credit.” It might be a little sketch, but I can feel it in my bones. She can handle an eight-foot fence.
He still looks doubtful. “Even if you can get her over the fence, she won’t be able to run if shit goes south.”
This would be a really great time to tell him about the successful party escape and inspire some confidence. Instead, I say, “Well either you trust me to get her out of there safe, or you leave her alone with some random dude who swears his biggest crime is atheism.”
Emory’s eyebrow arches skeptically, and I know it’s shitty, playing against his crazy-protective nature, but shit.
I promised her.
I said I’d help her get through this. Can Tyson run with her on his back for a mile? Fucking doubtful. He’s a diver. Not a sprinter. All that aside, Vandy’s clearly got a thing or two to prove to her brother, and she deserves the chance to do it.
He peers over at Tyson. “What, you think he’s suspect?”
“I thi
nk no one is that clean. And we both already know, for a fact, that he dupes innocent girls into getting with him.”
Yeah, that does it.
Emory’s jaw clenches. “Point.” But then he meets my gaze, eyes tight, and I realize that whatever’s coming next is the actual source of his stress. “It’s just that you’d have to drive her.”
My lungs constrict in an exhale that doesn’t seem to end. Well, what the fuck am I supposed to say to that? My, “Oh,” comes out flat.
Emory sighs. “It’s not that I don’t think you’d be careful or anything.”
“I get it.”
“No, you don’t,” he says, looking annoyed. “I know you’d be more careful with her than literally anyone else on Earth. I know that, Reyn. But it’d be putting both of you in a really fucked up position, and when I asked her, she said—”
I interrupt him, “If you already asked her, then why are we even having this conversation? If she wants to go with Tyson, then I get it.” And I do. Who could blame her?
But Emory just gives me a look, and maybe it’s the subtle thread of guilt within it that tips me off, but either way, I know.
I know. “She chose me.”
“The thing about V,” he slowly adds, “is that sometimes she bites off more than she can chew. I was just kind of hoping to ease her into something like that.”
I bite back an irritated reply. “Maybe you should let her make some of her own choices, Em. She’s seventeen, not seven.” Okay, maybe I don’t bite back an irritated reply, because his face goes a touch stony. Also, maybe I just got that line from my dad and I want to hit my own face a little bit. Still stands. “Come on, man, have some faith.” I bury a playful punch into his shoulder, trying to dissolve the tension. “You know I work best under pressure. It’ll probably just make it go smoother. If she thinks she can handle it, then give her a chance.”