The Last Piece of His Heart (Lost Boys 3)

“Go ahead, Wentz,” Frankie said. “What are you waiting for? You know you want to. Or are you scared of the consequences…?”

“Fuck you.”

I wasn’t afraid. Not for me.

You’re not like him, my mother’s voice whispered.

But what if I was?

My grip on Frankie loosened.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” Holden sidled up beside me in a long coat and scarf, though it was warm out. He put his hands in the pockets of his slacks and rocked back on his heels, casually taking in the scene. “Two nocturnal discharges about to have their asses handed to them by my dear Ronan.” He grinned. “And it’s not even noon.”

I released Frankie with a rough shove. He staggered back, relief flashing over his face then quickly replaced by a sneering grin.

“That’s what I thought,” he taunted. “Chickenshit.”

“This is an unexpected turn of events,” Holden muttered, shooting me a confused look.

“No, it isn’t,” Frankie said. “Wentz turned into a giant pussy.” His sneer sharpened. “Or maybe my dad broke you. Was that it?” He cocked his head. “I think that was it. He broke you like a dog.”

“A dog.” Mikey laughed. “Good boy, Wentz. Who’s a good boy?”

When I didn’t take the bait, he and Frankie high fived each other and walked away, still chuckling. I inhaled through my nose, forced my fists to uncurl.

I felt Holden’s eyes on me.

“Leave it alone, Parish,” I said and strode to our space on the low wall.

But Holden couldn’t leave it alone if you paid him. He joined me, leaning casually against the cement bricks.

“You feeling okay? Feverish? Delirious? The Ronan Wentz I know wouldn’t walk away from a chance to beat Dowd’s ass.” He narrowed his eyes. “Your name is Ronan, isn’t it?”

“Fuck off,” I said dully and glanced down at my calloused hands with their scarred knuckles. “I don’t always fight. Do I?”

Like father like son…

The teasing tone fell out of Holden’s voice instantly. “No. But when you do, it’s for a good cause. Like defending Miller and me at the Blaylock party.”

“You jumped in front of me when Frankie had the broken glass.”

“That was nothing. You were ready to take one for the team when Frankie pulled out the Taser. You did it out of pure honor whereas mine was more of a psychotic death wish.”

I glanced over at him. “You still have a death wish?”

“Life and I have called a truce. For now.”

“Keep it that way.”

“What’s the fun in that?” Holden waved a hand. “Forget me. I heard what Frankie said about Shiloh. If I didn’t know how you are about things like ‘talking,’ my feelings would be horribly wounded that you haven’t shared whatever’s going on there.”

“Nothing’s going on.”

Holden coughed, “Bullshit,” into his fist. “I know what you’re thinking.”

“What am I thinking?”

“That you need to stay away from her. For her sake. To heroically protect her from whatever you think it is she needs protecting from while sacrificing your own needs and desires, blah blah blah.” He rolled his eyes.