King of Hawthorne Prep
But still, I can’t allow him to make the situation worse.
As I grip the door handle, Austin yanks back his arm and punches Kingsley in the face. The movement is so swift that the vehicle door is barely open and already it’s over. My hands rise to my mouth as Kingsley staggers back a step before flying forward as the two grapple.
I scream and rush toward them, my shoes sliding over the gravel. By the time I reach the pair, they’ve already splintered apart and are pacing warily around each other. Neither spare me a look as I grab Austin’s arm and haul him toward the G-wagon.
“Stop it!” I snap. “Both of you!”
Kingsley glares at my brother before lifting his hand to his nose and swiping at the blood beneath it. Bright red splatters dot his white shirt. He jerks his head back, and a chilling menace fills his eyes.
“Stay the fuck away from my sister!” Austin roars in the now silent parking lot.
A slow smirk curves Kingsley’s lips and I mentally prepare myself for the nastiness that will follow. “Can’t make any promises, bro. She’s a hot piece of ass.”
When Austin lunges for the second time, I scramble in front of him, shoving my weight against his body. It’s like trying to move a brick wall.
“Let’s go!” I wrap both hands around his arm and tug. “Now!”
His feet move, and he allows me to drag him away from Kingsley. The more distance I put between them, the more relieved I am. With one final glare, Austin swings around and slides into the SUV. I flinch when he slams the door closed before pounding his fists against the steering wheel.
In silence, I bite my lip and stare out the windshield as Austin guns the engine, squealing out of the Dairy Barn parking lot and onto the main road before fishtailing across the pavement. I grab the oh-shit bar above the door and glance at him with wide eyes. His jaw remains clenched as his gaze stays pinned to the stretch of road in front of him.
“What the fuck were you really doing with Rothchild?” he growls. “Because I don’t believe that BS story you tried to feed me earlier.”
“Language,” I murmur, needing to diffuse the explosive situation.
He glares and presses his lips together before muttering, “How about you stop being a funny fuck and answer the question.”
I wince. There’s no way I can divulge the bargain I struck with Kingsley. Austin would turn this SUV around and pummel the shit out of him. The only choice I have is to cover the lie with more lies and hope that the truth never gets dragged into the light.
“It’s like he said,” I murmur. “He came home for lunch and saw that I was leaving for school. Then he offered me a ride home. We stopped in town for an ice cream cone. End of story.”
I’m struck by the realization that it really is the end of the story. I can’t do this anymore with Kingsley. I can’t get wrapped up in his games.
My brother’s eyes narrow as he considers everything I’ve divulged. “Why would he do that?”
“How should I know?” I jerk my shoulders before turning away and leaning my forehead against the glass. Misery floods through me, nearly swallowing me whole, as I stare at the greenery along the side of the road. The town of Hawthorne gets left behind in the rearview mirror.
“Why the hell would you agree to go anywhere with that jackass after he tried hurting you?”
Even though I keep my gaze trained out the window, his stare probes me for details I have no intention of revealing. There has always been a powerful bond between us. Since we moved here, I’ve been keeping secrets. As much as the guilt gnaws at me, it’s better for all of us if Austin never discovers the truth.
“It seemed like a good idea at the time,” I mumble, feeling heartsick. “It won’t happen again.”
That, at least, isn’t a lie.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The following Monday, Austin returns to Hawthorne Prep and everything goes back to the way it was before his suspension. Sloane shoots me triumphant looks every chance she gets all the while clinging to Kingsley like a barnacle.
And Kingsley?
He ignores me in class and in the halls. He doesn’t make me wear the shirt, force me to eat lunch with him, or sneak into my room at night. I should be thrilled that his interest has become ensnared by someone else.
Instead, a deep sense of sadness fills me.
How’s that for fucked up?
No longer are we harassed. It’s more like we don’t exist, which is fine with me. Even though Austin remains tightlipped about football practice, he doesn’t come home with anymore bruises, blackened eyes, or bloodied noses.
I can’t shake the strange energy that hovers over us like a heavy cloud, making it feel like the calm before an impending storm. With every new day that slides by, my anxiety rachets up a couple hundred notches. Any moment, I’ll come out of my skin.