I just wasn’t entirely sure exactly where I’d gotten trapped.

“And you don’t have to be ashamed if that man is stirring up feelings in you, Faith. I know you, and I know what you’re thinking. He was your first love. Your life love, which is why I’d gladly maim that pretty face if he’s up to no good.”

“He left me, Court.”

A hammer striking a nail rang through the air, a pound, pound, pound that rattled the walls.

“Sounds to me like he’s back.”

Seven

Faith

Sixteen Years Old

The door to the office banged open. Faith startled where she was tucked in the back corner behind a tall metal filing cabinet all by herself, sorting the pile of reports the school secretary, Ms. Minks, had left for her to file during her TA hour.

Rustling echoed from up front, a disorder in the air, and she carefully peeked around the edge of the cabinet.

Mr. Flores had ahold of a boy’s elbow, trying to lead him inside. Face obscured by a flop of tawny hair, the boy flailed and tried to yank his arm away. “Don’t touch me,” the defiant voice said.

Faith’s heart started thrumming faster, a rash of discomfort prickling her senses. She didn’t know whether to continue hiding or step out and shout that she was there. Reveal herself since she was feeling like an intruder.

Mr. Flores grumbled in frustration. “If you’d do what you were asked, I wouldn’t have to. You were told to go to the office, and I found you in the boy’s restroom. I don’t know about where you came from, but that’s not how things are done around here. Now, I want you in Mr. Dagon’s office.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“Yeah? Well, Mitch said he saw you swipe the sandwich from his tray. At this school, we respect each other, including their possessions. I’d suggest you learn that quickly, or things won’t go so smoothly for you around here.”

And Mitch was a complete asshole, Faith thought, but that didn’t mean he deserved to have his lunch stolen.

She hadn’t seen them yet, but the two brothers and their cousin had just moved into their neighborhood on the outskirts of the city and had been the talk of the entire town.

Rebellious.

Trouble.

Trash.

She’d heard all those words thrown around.

Whispers about a junkie mother who’d moved them into an abandoned trailer down on Hyde street.

Faith’s mama and daddy had always taught her to be kind. Not to judge people for what they looked like or for the rumors that flew through the neighborhood.

To ignore the old ladies whispering everyone’s business as if it were the fifties and they were still wearing pink curlers in their hair.

She’d been raised to believe you never knew what was really underneath, what someone was going through, or the reality of their situation.

Admittedly, she was caught off guard when her daddy had pulled her aside yesterday afternoon and warned her to give those boys a wide berth, telling her he didn’t want her anywhere near them and that they couldn’t be trusted.

Fear tingled across her nape and skittered down her spine as the boy struggled with Mr. Flores again.

It was the strangest sensation.

One she had never experienced before.

Right then, she thought she might understand where her daddy was coming from

There was something that vibrated through the air that she could taste.

An omen.

A premonition.

Heck, it was probably just basic intuition.

Some boys were just trouble.

Bad to the very bone. That expression hadn’t been made up for nothing.

“I told you, I didn’t do nothin’.” The boy spat the words at the junior English teacher, yanking his arm free.

“Tell it to Mr. Dagon.”

Alarm flapped at her ribs. She’d stepped into the middle of something she didn’t want to be witness to. She should cover her ears to shield herself from it all because it sure wasn’t any of her business.

She just couldn’t resist this burning curiosity that clawed at her insides. Unfamiliar and somehow urgent. She held her breath, trying to remain unseen as she peeked out around the cabinet again.

Then she sucked in a staggered breath.

The most piercing eyes she’d ever seen stared back at her. As if he’d known she was there all along.

Those eyes held her hostage.

Scary in their severity.

They were almost red. Orange maybe. Like an apple and an apricot had been crushed together, then whipped up in a blender with a full container of bronze glitter dumped in.

Striking and shiny and . . . and . . . and . . .

Angry.

Oh, the boy looked angry.

Raging mad as he tried to tug away from Mr. Flores, who’d latched on to him again. Every bitter action of the boy was lined with a stunning sort of sadness that Faith could feel feeding the vibrating hostility in the room.

That fear in her chest expanded, her pulse a thug, thug, thug.

It felt as if time had been stopped as the boy glared back at her.

Tags: A.L. Jackson Confessions of the Heart Romance
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