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Chapter 27

Hunter

“Jerk.”

“Jackass.”

Our dads try to keep their language clean in front of the kids, and Kade and I move in, trying to pry them apart.

My dad wraps his arms around Jared’s waist and pulls him to the ground. Both of them slide out of our grasp. They wrestle, grunting and growling. Jesus.

Mom snaps, “Stop it right now! Both of you!”

“Jared!” Tate barks.

I stand there and look to Kade for what to do, but he already has his phone out, filming.

I look around. Where’s Dylan?

“You talk about my parenting,” Dad grits through his teeth as he fixes Jared into some UFC hold. “Your mom raised a dickhead.”

I glance at Dylan’s car that Tate drove in, only seeing James in the back seat.

“Guess she likes them!” Jared fires back. “She married your dad, after all!”

Dad tightens his arms and legs. “Asswipe!”

I roll my eyes and spin around, leaving the adults to it. I head into the house, still half-naked and with no idea at what point I lost my shirt last night.

I run upstairs to look for Dylan. Maybe she crawled into my bed to hide, and if so, I’m hiding with her.

Kade let me take him into Weston yesterday. I smile despite the headache and churning in my stomach from the alcohol, remembering how good it felt to have him at my side. Like he cared, never stopped caring, and we hadn’t missed a step.

We drove onto Knock Hill last night, ignoring the eyes of everyone partying in the street as I brought him inside the house, so I could shower and change. I had every intention of going next door to find Dylan, but by the time I was out of the bathroom, Kade had found Farrow’s tequila stash and was asking about the Ray Bradbury collection that Grandpa left in the curio cabinet. I kept my answers short because he was only asking to make conversation. Trying to find a common ground, but we sat down for a minute, and before I knew it, we were three shots and a beer in when Farrow and everyone dragged us outside for a game of football in the street.

I almost thought it was a bad idea. Constin played rough. Kade’s nose was bleeding in less than a minute, and I thought for sure Weston was going to force a fight with my brother on our turf, but Farrow stepped in before more happened. He pushed Constin back.

Because Kade is Farrow’s blood, too.

We played football for a long time, and no matter that Weston was more brutal than necessary, or how many times Kade was shoved onto the pavement, he kept getting up, and we were side by side the whole time, trying to protect each other.

We drank more, the firehoses came out, and we stumbled into Dylan’s house to bring her out to play, but then we were just ready to pass out.

I want to wake up to her again. It’s going to be damn near impossible with her dad as angry as he is, and seven months still left of school before we’re on our own. But my parents always go up to our cabin in Wisconsin for a weekend in November to do a little belated celebration for their anniversary after the leaf peeper traffic is gone. They usually send A.J. off to one of our grandparents.

An image of me and Kade with the house to ourselves floats into my head, him waking up with his girlfriend in his room, and me with my girlfriend in my room. I groan, thinking about the early mornings, her crawling on top of me without a word…

I was born for her.

She’s not in my room, and the bathroom is empty. I head through Kade’s room, peering out the window, and see her in the pool below. Alone. In her clothes. Light sprinkles of rain hit the surface of the water.

She has to be freezing. I didn’t check the temperature, but the pool isn’t typically heated unless for a party. My dad will be covering it altogether in a matter of weeks, in preparation for the snow to start.

I spin around, passing the three green lockers that my brother now has in his room, and make my way downstairs. I cross the kitchen and open one of the doors, stepping out and closing it behind me.

Her sneakers lay next to the pool, small drops of rain hitting my chest and shoulders as I walk into the water, coming up behind her.

Teeth sink into my skin at the feel of the icy pool, and I see her shiver as I approach. Her hair is slicked back over her head, and her clothes are drenched, sticking to her body.

I close the distance, she turns, and I take her in my arms, pressing her chest to mine to cover her breasts through the wet fabric.

Everyone’s still in the driveway, and I kiss her, digging my fingers into her body.

She pulls her mouth away. “Not here.”

“Do you love me?” I ask.

That’s all I need to know. I don’t want to ask. I’ve waited for her to say it, but if she loves me, then I know she’s mine no matter how long I have to wait.

She just looks up at me, brow pinched in pain. “I think you and Kade need to rebuild things.”

I shake her. “Do you love me?”

It’s not for her to worry about Kade and me. My brother and I will fix it.

I gaze into the storm in her blues, trying not to be angry with him all over again. Now she thinks she interrupted our bonding as kids, and we need to make up for lost time.

No. Not now when I finally have her. Kade and I are grown. We’ll fix it.

But she just shakes her head. “It’ll be too much,” she whispers.

Pushing away, she climbs out of the pool, and I see her face split with a silent cry as she dives into the pool house.

I don’t stand there more than two seconds. Swimming for the edge, I leap out of the pool, water sloshing onto the deck as I hear loud chatter in the house and doors slamming.

I slip into the dark pool house.

She twists around, and I grab her, her arms circling me too. “Hunter,” she cries softly. Tears wet her face.

“Fuck them,” I say. “I love my brother, and I love your dad, but fuck everyone who makes you feel like you should be smaller. Like you should fade. It’s our turn, Dylan.”

I kiss her, and she kisses me back, clutching onto the back of my neck for dear life.

“And when you go away to college?” she argues. “Huh? Everything is going to be so much harder than you think it is. You’re living in a dream.”

I peel off her shirt, unfasten her jeans, and slide my hands inside, gripping her ass. “Then let’s just fuck then,” I pant over her mouth. “You up for that?”

A whimper escapes right before she can’t hold back any more. Opening her lips, she comes in, sliding her tongue into my mouth, and I grip the back of her hair as she pushes off my jeans and then hers.

I pick her up, pulling her legs around me, and throw us both down on the couch.

I reach between us, guiding my cock into her.

“They’re gonna look for us,” she breathes out.

But she nibbles my lips, rolling her body underneath me and not asking me to stop. I slide myself inside and glide my hand down her thigh, thrusting deep.

“Ah,” she moans.

I lower my mouth to hover over hers, gripping the arm of the sofa above her head as I pump fast and hard.

“I’m going to start sneaking into your room again, but you’re not getting any sleep when I do.” I take her lip between my teeth for a second before letting it go. “I’m going to fuck you quietly when you’re not at home alone, and we’re going to have some fun when you are.”

A smile lifts the corners of her mouth.

“You’re going to fuck me over the phone when I’m far away in my dorm room,” I pant. “And every time someone asks you out, you’re just going to want me. I’m gonna wake up to you sucking on me in the morning, you’ll be mine that badly.”

She growls, pushing me back, and I fall to the other end of the couch, grabbing her as she climbs on top.

But she pivots instead.

Turning around, she straddles me backward and looks at me over her shoulder as she rides.

I gaze at her ass as it moves. “Oh, God.”

I’m never going to not love her, am I?

She rises up and lowers herself slowly, over and over again, taking me inside her. “Oh,” she whimpers. “Oh, Hunter.”

I squeeze her ass in both hands, her moans getting louder.

“Shhh,” I murmur softly.

“It feels so good,” she moans, her orgasm building.

I hear the patio door slam shut.

Fuck.

My cock throbs, filling with blood. “You have to be quiet, baby.”

But God, she fucking rides me, rolling her hips, her ass taunting me as she slides me in and out, in and out.

“Dylan…” I arch my neck back, about to come. “God, you’re so tight.”

Chatter goes off outside, she moans, and I start to come. “They’re coming.” I breathe hard. “They’re coming.”

“You want me to stop?”

“Fuck,” I grunt.

I pump her from the bottom, and she lets her head fall back, both of us convulsing as our orgasms rock through us.

“God, your dick feels so good,” she breathes.

I run my hand up her back, feeling the pool water or her sweat, but we stay there for only a moment before she slides off me, and we quickly dress.

“Dylan!” Tate calls.

Dylan casts a worried look to the door, and I grab her and kiss her.

“I’ll meet you at the dance tonight,” she tells me.

And that’s all she has to say before she leaves.

A half hour later, I’m showered again and dressed, and I’m still not sure what I’m going to wear tonight. We have hours yet, though. I walk to my window, seeing the rain has ended yet the clouds hang low, and my grandfather’s car is in the driveway. He must’ve just arrived.

Dylan’s car is still here, too, and I smile a little, relieved that she didn’t run.

Heading to Kade’s room to search for a suit, I open his closet door and my eyebrows immediately nosedive, seeing the shit all over his floor. A pile of shoes and junk that I can’t even make sense out of. That’s him, all right. I laugh, shaking my head. When told to clean his room, he just hides the mess.

I sift through his clothes, veering for the back where the garment bags hang. There are a ton. He’s kept every suit he’s ever owned. I go for the last one out of the bigger ones and unzip the bag, seeing a navy-blue three-piece. I inspect it closer, checking the size of the pants.

It’s the right size.

And I like the color.

But it’s fitted, and I don’t need anyone but Dylan seeing my dick.

I open another, seeing a black single-breasted coat with pants, and I check the size. Thirty-two. That works.

I close his closet door and lay the bag on his bed. I’ll ask him first. I don’t think he’ll say no, but I won’t deny him the opportunity to give me shit about finally taking advantage of his superior fashion sense.

I start to leave, but I spot the three tall, green lockers, side-by-side and anchored to his wall next to his closet. I look around, seeing he still has the two dressers he always had. Did he need more storage space for something?

I check his door, making sure no one’s coming, and reach out, picking up the combination padlock hanging from one of the lockers. All three doors have one, and I tug on it just a little, but of course, the door is secured. Is my dad not worried he’s keeping something he shouldn’t in here? Each one’s not big enough to fit a body but definitely liquor or drugs.

Not that I’ve ever known Kade to smoke, snort, or swallow anything illegal other than alcohol, but the need to lock up whatever’s in here makes me wonder. Who would care if it was anything else?

I head downstairs, stopping in the foyer and pulling on my hoodie.

Maybe Dylan knows why Kade has the lockers. Unfortunately, she’s seen him a lot more than his own brother has over the past year.

And it’s her last night with me tonight.

Maybe.

I don’t know if I’m coming home, nor do I know if Jared will even let her stay in Weston this evening. He’s pretty fucking upset.

But as I head toward the kitchen, I hear soft talking and I slow, in case I don’t want to intrude.

Hanging back near the doorway, I peer in, seeing my grandfather, Ciaran, sitting at the island, mixing pancake batter. Jared and my dad hover around the stove, making eggs, bacon, and toast, and I’m guessing Tate and Fallon put them to work, making breakfast for the family.

“People tell you that you never stop worrying about your kids,” Ciaran tells them, rising and removing his jacket and rolling up his sleeves, “but in a way, you kind of do. When they’re about thirty.”

“Thirty?” Dad gripes.

“After that they seem to settle down,” Ciarin tells the two younger fathers as he whisks the pancake mix. “They calm, make better decisions, and the only thing you’re worrying about is them dying before you do.” He looks down at the bowl, and I can tell a memory of my mom when she was younger plays in his head. “After a certain point, they’re going to do what they want to do, and all you can do is make sure they know they can still come home when they’re ready. If you lose the relationship, you’ve lost it all.”

I glance over at Jared, seeing his jaw flex as he blinks away whatever’s in his eye.

They continue cooking, my grandpa sees me, giving me a reassuring nod.

“Thanks,” I mouth.

My dad said Jared loved becoming a father, but I can imagine it’s hard not to feel as if you’re just like the parents who raised you when your kid makes decisions that scare you. His father was a monster, but now he’s learning how bad you can make it when you hang on too tightly too.

My dad opens and closes his fist, and I see his knuckles are battered. “That really hurt,” he bitches at Jared through clenched teeth.

“Then don’t bite next time,” Jared whispers, dropping bacon onto a plate lined with a paper towel. “Idiot.”

He steps out of the room, and I quickly follow him.

My dad glances as I pass by but doesn’t try to stop me.

Jared stands in front of the mirror over the credenza in the dining room, running his hands through his hair. I move in behind him, leaning back on the table and meeting his eyes in our reflection.

“It’s only been me,” I tell him. “And there’s only been her. For as long as I can remember.”

He drops his eyes and draws in a deep breath, and I can tell he’s trying to grow. Like super fast so he doesn’t alienate his wife and daughter any more today.

“I have loved that kid so much,” he says, “and I’m grateful she’s stubborn. I hate when she’s stubborn with me, but I’m proud of her.”

He turns and faces me. “But I was scared to have a daughter, Hunter. I know how young guys look at women, and what they think they’re good for, because I used to be one of them. I treated women like shit before Tate.” And then he quickly adds, “I treated Tate like shit.”

I get it. Young guys haven’t really changed. Kade’s exploits aren’t a secret. But I will say, he doesn’t think women are toys so much as he looks for ones who hopefully think of him as no more than a toy too.

Jared shakes his head. “I walked into that room this morning and thought she’d been…”

“Used,” I say when he trails off.

He nods.

“Kade’s never touched her,” I tell him once more. “Not like that anyway.”

His shoulders stay squared, he exhales, and he has to know that Dylan would’ve gotten into a relationship at some point. I don’t know if that’s what we have, but Jared knows—and I think he’s always known—I want everything from his daughter.

“But you know, women enjoy sex too,” I state matter-of-factly as I stand up straight. “Threesomes are fun for everyone.”

He raises a glare to me. “You trying to stay alive right now?”

I laugh, enjoying teasing him, because I’m more like my dad than I guess I knew.

I let my smile fall and look at him without faltering. “She owns me.”

He grips my shoulder and yanks me in next to him as we walk back to the kitchen. “I know what that’s like.”

I step back into the kitchen, seeing Kade popping some ibuprofen and chugging Gatorade.

Dad hands me a plate, and my stomach growls.

“Make it into a sandwich,” Kade tells me, downing some more of his drink. “I want to show you something. Come on.”

I look around for Dylan, but I don’t see her. A.J. and James are nowhere to be found, either. They must be playing video games downstairs.

Kade walks out of the kitchen, and I throw some egg and bacon on the toast, grabbing the napkin my dad hands me as I fold everything in the bread and stuff a bite into my mouth.

We pull on shoes, climb into his truck, and I set my food on the center console as I tap out a text to Dylan.

Running an errand with Kade, I type and reiterate, Meet you at the dance.

I want to pick her up, like a date is supposed to do, but she specifically told me she’d meet me there. Probably because she always wants her own wheels, in case she needs to escape.

Kade speeds into town, and he tries to snatch the rest of my sandwich, but I grab it back, spilling scrambled egg into his lap.

By the time he pulls into the alleyway behind Quinn’s shop, we’re already fighting.

“Always, always, always wear a fucking condom,” he scolds.

“I will! I’m going to!”

“No, you’re not,” he retorts, slamming his door and finding his key to the backdoor of our aunt’s shop. “Not after you had her without one now. You act like Dad didn’t show us every TV movie on teen pregnancy or YouTube video on STDs.”

I don’t bother telling him that she’s on birth control, and we were both virgins, because he already knows.

“Get yourself in love,” I tell him. “And in a monogamous relationship, and you can have fun just like me.”

“Monog…” He gags. “Relationship.” Another gag followed by a whine, “Dad, he’s using four-syllable words again. Make him stop.”

I chuckle as he unlocks the door, and I follow him inside.

He leads me through the kitchen, to the front of the shop, and walks toward the mirror. He reaches up, behind the frame, and looks at me. I watch as he pulls something, and the mirror clicks open, swinging inward like a door.

My stomach flips. He’s showing me where Dylan escaped to the night the Rebels vandalized the school. The place Hawke talked about when he came to see me.

Kade steps inside, and I touch behind the mirror in the same spot, finding the tiny lever. I follow him, and he leaves the mirror open as I look down the long hallway with black walls. There’s light ahead—daylight, I think—and I can smell the water and the subtle subterranean chill that basements and caves have.

We walk in, and he doesn’t speak as I look around and absorb. A hallway appears to my right, and I think I see more doorways—more rooms—before we descend a few steps and the hideout opens up to a great room. Dim light spills through windows high above, and I see Latin in massive white letters written on the wall ahead.

Vivamus, moriendum est.

I type it into my search bar, but Kade translates before I can finish. “Let us live, since we must die,” he tells me.

There’s a couch, an entertainment center with a TV, and I spot game controllers on the coffee table. To my left, there’s a small kitchen—fridge, stove, sink, and a counter with a couple of stools.

Kade moves to the door beyond, and I follow him down another hallway, seeing another floor-length mirror ahead and kitchen staff moving through Rivertown, preparing to open for lunch.

“Damn,” I say.

They hustle in and out of the kitchen, a guy with a mop and bucket moving toward us but not seeing us.

“What is this place?” I ask, looking around and drifting back to the great room.

“Hawke found it,” he says. “Quinn doesn’t know about it yet. We wanted to wait for everyone to turn eighteen.”

I stand next to the couch, taking it all in, and yeah, I’m thinking I shouldn’t tell Farrow about this anytime soon. He could try to take it, given it could be quite an asset to his career path. I’m not sure why Hawke or anyone else needs it, but I might find out myself soon enough.

Kade leans against the kitchen counter, watching me. “I’m…sorry about everything,” he says.

I look over at him, appreciating the sincerity in his eyes. He didn’t need to say it. Maybe last night, but I think we understand each other now. I’m just glad to move on from it.

“Me too.” I sigh. “I’m sorry. I never meant—”

“I know.”

He nods, not needing to relive it again. I never wanted him to feel like a third wheel when we were kids.

“I’ll get your Chicago application reinstated.”

I smirk. “You mean you’ll have Dad make a call?”

“No,” he interrupts. “I’ll call one of our grandfathers. Dad will kill me if he finds out what I did.”

I laugh, but then it finally occurs to me. “You got me into Clarke because that’s where you’re going.”

He doesn’t reply. He just looks away.

It’s pretty impressive, actually. He got me into a college. I thought for sure someone was going to have to get him into college. I need to read that essay that admissions guy gushed about. Maybe someone else wrote it.

“We think Rivertown was a home—a townhouse—some years ago,” he explains. “This was a secret hideout. A speakeasy or something.”

He tells me about Winslet, the twins, and the possible suicide of one or maybe not. How Weston started the prisoner exchange to get the same Pirate girl across the river where they exacted revenge but no one is sure on how. We only know she disappeared from there. All that I knew, but what I didn’t know about was Grudge Night and how they came for her in this place first. Or the cell phones they left here.

Maybe they were going to end it that night. And maybe they realized they wanted to carry the fun on a little longer.

I look at Kade, and he looks at me, and I don’t think it escapes either of our attentions the parallels between their story to ours. One brother in love and one angry. Losing each other and whatever remained being half-alive—in limbo—because of it. You don’t share a womb with someone and not have a bond made of iron. Sometimes that iron makes a shield. Sometimes it makes manacles. It can feel great, and it can hurt, but it’s always strong.

If Winslet’s really dead, the brothers know it, and they’re quite possibly still alive.

Someone in Weston must know where to find them.

I follow Kade out, back into Frosted. “You know who else spent time in Weston twenty years ago?” I ask, not waiting for an answer. “Ciaran.”

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