Chapter 23

Hunter

She fucking kicked me out. After I gave her two orgasms.

She’s spent more time with my friends this week than me. If she’s not training with Mace or Farrow, she’s staying after school to help Codi and Coral make pep rally posters in the Art room. I’ve barely spoken to her since we went at it in her room on Monday.

I stand in front of the mirror, gripping the bar in both hands and curling at my elbows. I lift the barbell to my chest again and again.

I can’t go another night without her.

Farrow settles on the bench next to me, starting crunches with a medicine ball. “You’re coming tonight.”

“I know,” I reply.

There aren’t many people whom I’d let tell me what I’m doing or where I’m going, but I won’t hide from Kade’s party.

“Are you bringing her?” he asks.

“That’s up to her.”

“That’s a Caruthers answer.” He sits up, twists side to side, and leans back down. “Give me a Pierce one.”

“Fuck you.”

He grins. “That’s more like it.”

It’s also not an answer. I don’t have one. Dylan knows about the pool party tonight. Players and their dates. I’ve tried to corner her, but she doesn’t deserve to be subjected to another fight between Kade and me, and I’m pretty sure she doesn’t want that either.

“You know, I’ve learned a lot from your grandpa,” Farrow tells me, barely out of breath as he keeps going. “And one of the most important things is that anything that matters should never be left up to anyone else.”

“What do I do?” I roll my shoulders, starting another set. “Bring her against her will?”

“Yeah.”

“Her pride won’t allow surrender,” I tell him. “That’s not how I earn her.”

“And that’s what you need to understand about someone who’s in love with you, Hunter.” He drops the ball and sits up. “She wants you. She wants you badly, but she’s mad and you probably deserve it, so to make her feel like she’s not giving up any power, you’re gonna have to fight her.” He grabs his towel, wiping the sweat off his forehead. “And I promise, she wants you to. Don’t be afraid of the fight, man. Let her be mad. She can be mad at the party. I don’t give a shit.”

He grabs a barbell, fixes on some weights, and lays back down on the bench, doing skull-crushers.

Someone who’s in love with you…

Is he right? Monday afternoon in her room wasn’t sweet. It was almost hate-fucking. We were both mad and fed up and frustrated and frenzied, and she was even a little violent. The biting, Jesus.

But she couldn’t get enough, either.

I throw Farrow a glance. “I never really know if you’re actually wise or just say things with so much confidence that it makes me believe you.”

He grunts, raising the bar over and over. “If you go to bed alone tonight, I guess we’ll know.”

A chuckle escapes. “So who are you bringing?”

“Are you kidding?” he raises his voice so the whole cage can hear. “The Pirates will all have dates. The question is ‘which one am I taking?’”

The guys howl and laugh, Calvin pounding his fist against the chain-link.

I want to call my parents to make sure they know what they’re in for, but I half-suspect Kade is throwing the party on a Wednesday night because they’ll just happen to be out of town. He posted the invite on his secret account, after all, so they wouldn’t see.

It would be a dick move to sabotage it, and I don’t want him to think I’m afraid to show up.

I shower in the locker room, the extra afternoon workout our last before the game. Coach wants us to rest up until Friday. I pass by the Art room, seeing that it’s empty, and when I go out to the parking lot, Dylan’s bike is gone, as well as Coral’s car. They must’ve finished the posters.

I drive home, Farrow’s advice spinning inside my head.

I love her. She’s social. I’m not. She loves crowds and noise. I don’t. She hates school, and I could keep going forever. She’d risk her life just to feel a rush, while I consider my choices too much. She’s so much like Kade, but she fits my heart like she was cut from it. It’s always been hers.

I pull up to the curb in front of the house. Her bike is parked next door, and I climb out, debating.

I have four more nights with her. I’m not fighting again.

Fletcher wipes down the windows of the garage door that acts as the wall in his shop, and I stroll over. Stepping inside, I run my hand through my hair, giving him a nod.

“Missed you on Monday,” he says, dropping his cloth and cleaner.

“Girl trouble.”

He smiles. “That’s good trouble to have.”

If you say so.

He gestures. “Got a haircut, I see.”

“No offense.” I take a seat in his barber chair. “Moms, you know? Could use a shave, though.”

Not that I even come close to growing a full beard yet, but I could use a touch up before tonight.

The chair reclines back, me with it, and I close my eyes as he wraps a hot towel around my face.

This may be my last time coming here. I only have four more nights, too, before I return home, like I promised my parents.

I could still return every week, though, couldn’t I? My dad would love to do this with me. It could be our weekly hang-out time.

The heat sinks into my cheeks, making it feel like something is pulling the hair on my arms under my skin, but in the best way. I hear Samson remove his tools from the Barbicide and dry them off before coming in and pressing the hot towel deeper into my face.

Would Kade like to come here? I can’t picture him sitting still for a shave. He seems to slow down even less than I do.

In a minute the towel comes off, the warm shaving cream is smoothed onto my skin, and Samson drags the straight razor up my neck as I tip my head back.

I stare at the pictures on the wall.

“My grandpa was in here a lot back in the day?” I ask.

“He was.” Samson glides the razor up my throat. “He still stops in once in a while.”

“Why would he let this town go to shit if he loved it here so much?”

Samson concentrates on his task, wiping the razor on the cloth hanging over his shoulder before he brings it back to my face. “He’s not God, Hunter.”

I know that, but look at what my family—and Dylan’s family—have done for Shelburne Falls in the same amount of time. The Falls wasn’t considered an affluent area when my dad was growing up. Our house was one of the first of its size when it was built, and now there’s a whole neighborhood of them. With Jax running the track and the summer camp, Jared and JT Racing, and my dad bringing in new businesses, the town is a destination. My grandfather is just as smart and just as invested. He kept a home here, after all.

I need to know why he’d let it fall into Green Street’s hands, especially with…

I let out a long breath as the razor slides up my cheek. “You know Farrow is my grandfather’s son, right?”

Samson doesn’t falter, wiping off the razor and scraping it up my skin again. “You know she’s not alone in that house, right?”

I curl my fingers around the armrests, all thoughts of my grandpa and Farrow gone.

I haven’t seen a single person whom I didn’t know come or go from that house.

But…

It also never felt truly abandoned, either. Someone still owns it.

Fletcher finishes, and I pay him, heading across the street to Dylan’s house.

I lift my hand to knock, hesitating a moment.

A Caruthers would end it now. They would throw her over their shoulder, regardless of how much she kicked and screamed.

A Pierce knows they’ll get what they want—eventually—so enjoy the foreplay.

I knock, and within a few seconds, Dylan answers.

“I need your help tonight,” I tell her.

We cruise to the party, only fashionably late. The team didn’t want to be on time and appear like we had nothing better to do tonight, but my brother isn’t stupid. If we waited an hour to arrive, he’d just post about how scared we were to be on their turf.

Instead, we all pull into my parents’ driveway—Constin, Farrow, Dylan, and Mace on bikes, the rest of us in cars and trucks—at eight-thirty, and according to Farrow, we’re leaving by ten.

Dylan climbs off her bike and removes her helmet, the red leather jacket doing a shitty job of protecting her from anything. I see the outline of her bikini underneath, her naked waist calling to me like a fucking magnet.

She removes her backpack and takes out a container of brownies she must’ve picked up at Frosted on the way. She said Quinn left treats.

We all stroll to the house, and I open the door, leading everyone inside.

“Welcome,” Kade calls.

He strolls through the foyer in swim shorts, no shirt or shoes, and a drink in his hand like this is my first time here too. Stoli and Dirk flank him, and I hear people in the kitchen. Others move around the pool through the double doors on the back patio, steam rising from the water.

Kade stops in front of me. “Keys in the bowl,” he says, pointing to his friend next to him who holds a glass dish. “Stoli will be in charge of the sober check when you leave.”

The bowl already has a dozen or more sets of keys.

Farrow looks around to his people, announcing, “A guy named Stoli will be checking if we’re sober enough to drive. Did you hear that, everyone?”

Chuckles and snickers go off, because Stolichnaya earned his nickname by always being the first one not sober. His real name is Josh.

Mace steps forward, holding out her open backpack. “I’ll hold ours.”

One by one we all dump our keys into her bag as Kade and I lock eyes, and I see the faded purple bruising under his eye and the scratch along his jaw. His gaze, heavy with tension, tells me he’d offer no argument if I wanted to finish that fight. All someone has to do is light the match tonight.

I glance down, catching sight of the triple triangle tattoo on his torso that matches our mother’s.

“There’s a bathroom in the pool house,” Kade tells everyone, “one off the kitchen, and another in the basement. Don’t go upstairs, and if you have sex in my house, leave no trace. Not even your condoms.”

Coral hands him a cardboard carrier by the handles.

He takes it. “What’s this?”

He peers inside, seeing the three bottles of El Tesoro that Farrow probably swiped from Green Street’s private stash.

Kade smiles, handing it to Dirk. “We can use that,” he tells Farrow. “I half-expected it to be drugs.”

“Not before the game,” my friend retorts. “We want to beat you fairly.”

Kade laughs and then turns his attention to our group. “Ladies, the legal age of consent in this state is seventeen. Anyone younger than that?”

“Kade, shut up.” Dylan drives forward, shoving the container of brownies into his chest. “You’re being a tool on purpose.”

And she heads past him into the party.

Kade turns as we all follow her. “Oh, you missed me,” he coos. “You know you did.”

We head through the kitchen, my parents and sister nowhere in sight, everyone ripping off their hoodies, jackets, and shirts as we step onto the pool deck.

“Turn it up!” Kade shouts.

All of the Pirates—the players and their dates—turn, see us, and howl as “HONEY” by Luna Aura blasts over the speakers loud enough for the neighbors a quarter of a mile away to hear.

Dylan takes Mace, Coral, and a few others over to Aro, and the girls strip down to swimsuits, stepping into the pool. Dylan wears a light blue bikini, the ties thin across her back, and I don’t know why, but I glance at the pool house. There’s a couch inside. The door locks too. I take a drink from my cup to hide my smile.

She stands waist deep in the heated water, laughing at something Mace says, but then I look up to see Kade standing on the other side of the pool, his gaze on her too. Then it rises to me.

With his eyes gleaming, he takes a step and drops into the pool. Walking to Dylan and the girls, he slips a drink around her waist and into her hand, the plastic cup in my own grip cracking. I stop squeezing before I break it. All part of the plan… I tell myself.

I turn to Constin, trying to look busy while Dylan does her thing and I make an effort to look like I’m not keeping an eye out for her.

A girl named Ava stares at Constin, and I remember her from when I went to school here. She stands in a pinstriped bikini with a group of people on the deck, playing with one of her braids as she looks at him.

I lift the cup to my mouth. “She’s interested.”

“I’m not.”

I glance at him and then quickly at Dylan, seeing Kade press into their group and force her back away from them, back to the pool wall. He doesn’t touch, and her lips move calmly as she speaks.

“You can’t have Dylan,” I say to Constin.

He looks around the party, still avoiding my eyes. “If you ever figure out what I like about Dylan Trent, you’ll finally understand me.”

“You won’t tell me?”

He hesitates, raising his cup to his lips. “No.”

I look at Ava and then Dylan, wondering what the difference is. Both are beautiful, and I didn’t know Ava well, but she was always nice. Maybe a little more pink going on, with her swimsuit and the bandana tied in her hair… Definitely more makeup.

But if he hasn’t spoken to her yet, I have no idea what he finds in one that he’s not seeing in the other.

“You can’t have Dylan,” I say again.

He takes another drink, casting his eyes from lawn chair to lawn chair and face to face. A guy films his friend jumping into the pool, while two others funnel a beer. A group of young women film themselves dancing, and a guy in Crocs urinates on the tree my dad planted with my mom right before Kade and I were born. Food, liquor, and music overflow, everyone wears sunglasses even though it’s night, and none of the keys they had in that bowl when we arrived were for cars that were used, stolen, or paid for out of the drivers’ own pockets. They were supplied by doting moms and dads.

“You know, I thought I understood you,” Constin tells me. “Some rich kid slumming it for kicks or under some misguided notion that it makes you noble to reject the comforts that not everyone gets to enjoy.”

I glance at Dylan to see her lift her chin as she talks to Kade.

“But it was all bullshit, of course,” Constin continues, “because you’re never really suffering if you know that you can run back to the mansion at any time.” He still doesn’t look at me, just studies the party. “But now, I think I misunderstood you. I see all this, the house you grew up in, the fuckin’ laze and people choking on their own egos, and I think no wonder you came looking for us.”

I go still, a little glad and a little sad. He sees what I saw. The boredom of people who value nothing, but…it doesn’t mean I was right, either. It just means I didn’t see it, and I wasn’t finding what I needed here.

He walks away, leaving me alone, and it finally occurs to me why my grandpa might’ve left Weston to fend for itself. Hard times make strong people.

He says it all the time.

Of course, Weston loves a good party as much as we do. They love to drink and fight and go to bed with people who make them feel good, but the difference is Weston doesn’t trust anyone easily. If you’re their friend, you earned it.

I don’t want to leave my school there.

“What the fuck is he doing?” Farrow grits out suddenly at my side.

I follow his gaze, seeing Kade fall in behind Dylan as she leads the way out of the pool. He takes her hand, both of them disappearing into the house.

I tip my head back and close my eyes.

“Hunter,” he says.

I hand him my drink and walk away. “Don’t follow me.”

“What?”

But I’m gone.

I follow Dylan and Kade into the house, and I don’t see her take him down to the basement, but I know that’s where they went. Through the entertainment room, past the bar and the people playing a video game, down the hall, and into the liquor storage room way at the end.

“I can’t,” I hear Dylan say.

I pause, listening by the cracked door.

“Sit,” he tells her.

“No.”

“Are you fucking him?”

I draw in a breath, pushing open the door. Kade turns his head, looking at me over his shoulder.

Cases of liquor and two kegs of beer sit against the wall to my left, while several barrels of my dad’s homemade whiskey are stacked to my right.

I step in, meeting Dylan’s eyes as she stands with her back to the wine racks. “Thanks,” I tell her.

She just looks away and starts to walk past me, but I catch her. “Stay.”

“I’m no longer interested.”

“I need you here,” I tell her.

She looks away, but she stays.

Kade sighs, crossing his arms over his chest, realizing Dylan wanted to get him alone. For me.

I close the door, the party far away, and if there’s shouting, no one will hear. “Where are Mom and Dad?” I ask him.

“In Springfield. Back tomorrow.”

A.J.’s either with Jared and Tate or Jax and Juliet, or she went with them. They wouldn’t trust Kade to get her and himself to school on time.

I clear my throat. “One Saturday morning, when we were fourteen—”

He starts to leave. “I need to play host, Hunter.”

I step in front of him, stopping him. “I told you I wanted to take Dylan to the new Fast movie,” I go on. “I was going to ask her and then ask Dad to drive us. Do you remember that?”

“Jesus,” he scoffs.

He moves around me again, but I shove him in the chest and advance quickly into him as he stumbles back.

Fire ignites in his eyes, but he stands tall.

He doesn’t push back, though. Dylan is still.

“Do you remember that day?” I bite out.

He smirks. “I remember going with her.”

I nod, smiling, but it’s a bitter one. Yeah, me too. He found an earlier showing, told Dad I didn’t want to come, and they were out of the house before I even knew what happened.

I swallow, squaring my shoulders. “When we were fifteen in JV, and it was the last game of the year, and our grandparents were in the stands, and so was Dylan, and you called the play where I run a lead block, but you threw the ball to me instead.” I remember it like it was yesterday. “I missed it. In front of our grandparents and Dylan and the whole stadium. You remember that?”

“I seem to remember you making a lot of mistakes in football.”

Yeah. He changed the play on me. I wasn’t supposed to receive the ball.

“And when we were sixteen,”

“Fuuuuck,” he gripes.

“And you brought a girl into my room while I was asleep one night,” I tell him. “I wake up, she’s taking her clothes off, and you’re standing behind her… What did you say?” I search my brain, trying to remember his exact words. “You slapped her on the ass and said, ‘He doesn’t talk cool, but tell him to keep his mouth shut and you won’t even know the difference, honey. Our dicks are identical too.”

He starts laughing.

I bite the corner of my mouth. Hard. “You might’ve been drunk,” I finally say, “but do you remember that at all?”

He beams. “I honestly don’t, but it sounds like me.”

I shake my head. Is that something he’d do to A.J.? No, because he gives a shit about our kid sister. Would he have purposely humiliated Hawke at a game? No. He loves Hawke.

And to my knowledge, he has never moved in on a girl one of his friends was interested in. He treats me like garbage.

“Why don’t you like me?”

“Oh, give me a fucking break, Hunter. They were jokes!” he yells. “You’re too sensitive.”

“You knew how those things, and the hundred other things you did, would make me feel!” I try to lower my voice, but I can’t. “You wanted me to feel like shit! Why?”

“Because I wanted you away from her!”

I stand there, staring at him, his eyes piercing me.

Dylan doesn’t move, but I see her chest rise and fall in heavy breaths out of the corner of my eyes.

I stand up straight. “So, you were jealous?”

“Let’s get one thing straight, Hunter.” He sneers at me. “I will never be jealous of you.”

“So why all the bullshit?” I ask. “Why not just tell me the truth?”

“Would you have given her up?” He cocks his head, challenging me. “Huh?”

Give her up? And let them be together?

I look over at Dylan, and I notice tears hanging in her eyes, about to fall. No. It would’ve fucking hurt too much. I can’t…

I can’t get the words out for a few seconds.

“If…” I blink, dropping my head. “If you made her happy…” I whisper. “If she was happy, then yeah.”

If she didn’t want me, I would never want to be someone who made her miserable.

I dig in my eyebrows, trying to get my fucking vision to clear. “Fuck.”

I twist around, but I feel a hand grab me. “No, no…” Dylan says, pulling me into her arms. “You don’t walk away. Come here.”

She pops up on her tiptoes, holding my face in her hands as she kisses me.

It only takes a second, and I wrap her in my arms and kiss her back.

Kade brushes past me and leaves, but it doesn’t even register to stop him.

She wants me.

Me.

“I love you,” I whisper.

“I know.” She presses her forehead to mine. “And he’s lying.”

“About what?”

“About something.”

She wipes the tears off her face and takes a step back. “I didn’t know I was coming between you—”

I grab her back. “You don’t come between us. He’s the problem, not you.”

“And we love him,” she says, and it almost sounds like a plea. “I won’t come between you two anymore.”

She wraps her arms around my neck, holding onto me for dear life before she lets me go.

“I can’t,” she says.

She leaves the room, and I slam my hand into the back of the door.

Goddamn him.