Chapter 9

Dylan

I think I made a mistake.

I grip both handlebars, revving the engine. “It can just be you and me,” I tell Hunter. “Not everyone has to come.”

He tosses gear into the trunk of his car, Farrow and Constin running down the steps of Hunter’s brownstone, and all of them ready to make a full-blown invasion.

“It’s Rivalry Week,” he says, as if that explains it.

I clench my teeth and pull my helmet off the back of my bike. Or the bike Farrow gave me. Thankfully, he retrieved it from Phelan’s Throat.

When Hunter said ‘we’re going to sneak…’ I thought he meant him and me. Us, together. I thought we’d be alone for a little while.

But he’s determined not to chance running into Kade without backup.

Sure, they’ll fight. And they’ll probably fight a dozen more times about what, I’m not sure, but eventually, the yelling will stop, and they’ll talk. I just know that nothing will change if they don’t see each other.

Mace and Coral climb on bikes, Mace riding her own. Arlet lingers on the other side of Hunter’s car.

“Shouldn’t we wait until like ten or something?” I press. “People will still be out on the streets.”

“It’s Rivalry Week,” he says again.

He doesn’t think Kade will be home. It’s only after seven, and after dinner, Kade often heads back out with friends, or whoever he’s dating.

Hunter will be able to slip into the house with me, grab the necklace, and get out before anyone’s the wiser. But just in case, he’s bringing the whole motley crew and hey, they may snap some pictures or video to post online and brag that they snuck into the Shelburne Falls mayor’s house, with me helping them do it.

Arlet flashes a look to me and then approaches Hunter. “I’ll ride with you,” she tells him.

He slams the trunk shut and nods, not looking at her. She was the one close to him in the lunchroom on Monday. Are they together?

She hops in the car, and he moves toward the driver’s side. He looks over the hood at me, but I speak up before he can tell me what to do. “I’ll meet you there,” I say.

He tips his chin at me, and everyone takes off, Hunter climbing into his car. I see him adjust the rearview mirror as I pull on my helmet.

He shoots off down the street, after his friends, and I grab hold of my handlebars, flipping up the kickstand.

But as soon as he rounds the corner, racing off out of sight, I kill the engine and pull off my helmet. Taking out my phone, I dial Kade.

“You okay?” he asks.

“They’re heading to your house.”

He’s quiet for a moment, and I hear music and a dozen conversations going on in the background. Sounds like he’s at Rivertown.

“They…” he murmurs. “Is Hunter with them?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

He hangs up, and I tuck my phone away again, slipping on my helmet. That probably wasn’t the nicest thing to do, but Hunter’s plan had a predictable outcome. Now it doesn’t.

And the Rebels are forgetting... I’m still a Pirate.

Squeezing the handles, I speed off, my engine reverberating through Knock Hill before descending down into the mill district. I turn onto River Road, speeding past fishermen and crumbling boathouses. When I curve left, onto the same bridge I crossed Sunday night, I hesitate only a moment before I dig in my pocket for a coin and flip it over the side, down to the sunken car. Pay to pass.

I wonder if anyone ever dives down to rob her ghost. There has to be a couple of hundred dollars down there, considering I never see anyone pay in pennies. As if the more you pay, the more good grace you’ll buy. It doesn’t make sense, though. To give a Pirate girl that much reverence. I wonder how the tradition started at all.

Exiting the bridge, I turn left, and run parallel to the river again, keeping my speed down since I don’t have my license on me.

Plus, I want to keep the Rebels far enough ahead so that they’ve turned right off High Street, toward the Caruthers’ house, before they see me head in the opposite direction. My necklace was never at Hunter and Kade’s house. I simply wanted to get them together, but since Hunter decided to bring everyone, he can walk into the ambush I have no doubt Kade will have waiting.

Making my way into town, I slow a little, on the lookout for my parents’ cars. I pass Rivertown, not seeing Kade’s truck or any of his friends, which means they’ve bolted to his house already to head off Hunter.

I race by the unremarkable expanse of red brick between Rivertown and Frosted, Quinn’s bakery, only me and a handful of other people knowing the old speakeasy that hides between the two businesses. Quinn doesn’t know yet. Rivertown’s owner doesn’t know. Hunter doesn’t know.

Reaching the Stop sign, I see no sight of the Rebels and swing left, kicking it up a gear, and then another. I quickly cut a sharp right into the empty school parking lot.

The moon gleams white off the second-story windows, and I race around the stadium, skidding to a halt in front of the same door that Aro and I broke into on Sunday night.

Parking, I hop off the bike and dig in my pocket for a pick set. Please, please, please… Reaching the door, I slide the pieces in, find the lever, and hold my breath as I nudge it. I twist the handle, the door opens, and I smile at how proud Aro would be.

Slipping the tools back into my pocket, I whip open the door and step inside with a little spin, closing it behind me. I jog down the hall, opening the flashlight on my phone and pushing into the locker room. I move toward Aro’s and my locker, dialing in the combination and opening the black steel door. I flash my light on the green ribbon and grab the necklace with a fossil of my mom’s childhood thumbprint that no one ever actually wears. I stuff it into my jeans pocket and slam the locker door, running back the way I came in.

I grip the locker room door handle and yank.

But it doesn’t open.

My heart skips.

I pull harder. “What the fuck?” I whisper.

I tug again and again, the locker room door I just came in through is now locked.

I press my ear to the door, hearing the squeak of someone’s shoes against the floor on the other side.

“Hey!” I call out. “Hello!”

Is a janitor still here? Maybe they’re just closing up.

I grab the handle with both hands, growling as I try to wrench the door free. “Please…”

My phone starts ringing with notifications. Then a buzz.

“Hello?” I yell as I pound my fist against the door. “Let me out!”

A low, distant howl echoes followed by laughter from a separate voice.

“Who’s there?” I cry out. “What’s going on?”

My phone goes off, one beep after another, and I pull it out, scrolling through.

I tap on a pic of me running through the school just minutes ago, and while it’s blurry, it’s unmistakable. The caption reads B&E.

Breaking and Entering. It’s posted from an account I don’t recognize. The location: Shelburne Falls High School.

I expel all my breath, closing my eyes for a moment. “Shit.”

Whirling around, I flee to the other end of the locker room, bolt through the door to the gym, and run across the basketball court.

I barrel through the door, into the school hallway, and past the display cases with all the alumni shit, memories, and throwback lockers.

But I notice a blue line spray-painted down the glass case. I slow, letting my gaze trail farther down, seeing that it continues across the office doors and over the walls.

My stomach sinks. My phone continues to buzz and beep.

“Oh, no.” I stop, taking in the blue swirls and the Xs sprayed over all the players’ pictures on the bulletin board. “No, no, no…”

They followed me.

They didn’t go to Hunter’s house.

Laughter echoes from down one of the side hallways as red and blue lights flash in my peripheral. I whip around, seeing two cop cars race across the parking lot and hear a door slam shut far off to my left.

“Shit,” I mouth, closing my eyes.

I run, hearing engines—one of them definitely Hunter’s car—start up and peel away. Chasing after them, I crash through the back door, seeing the police cars cruising alongside the football field.

Toward me.

Bile crawls up my throat. I’m going to be grounded for life.

Dammit. I scurry to my bike and climb on, speeding away. Their sirens scream into the air when they see me making my escape. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, but I’m not ready to surrender.

I dart out of the parking lot, spotting the security camera on the lamp post above.

And I just gave it a nice, full view of my goddamn face. Awesome.

I jerk away, coasting left and racing back onto High Street. But then I make a sharp right and then another immediate left, speeding into the alleyway behind Frosted.

I hide the bike between two dumpsters and pull out my keys, letting myself in the back door of Quinn’s shop. I hide inside, safe in the darkness.

This is going to be too much for my parents. They’ll force me to come home.

I run my fingers through my hair, gripping tightly right before I reel my foot back to kick one of her metal kitchen cabinets. But I stop short. I don’t want to dent it. I’ve done enough damage tonight.

Drifting into the front customer area, I take out my phone and scroll pictures of me, texts, comments…

Ur over!!!!

We’ll get her when she comes back.

Loyal to whoever shows her attention…

A laugh escapes me that kind of sounds like a little bit of a sob. “Seriously?”

Is that what people think? That I traded sides and actually vandalized my own school? That I’m so desperate to belong?

My eyes fill with tears, but I don’t let them fall. I’m not quite there yet. I squeeze my phone in my fist, pacing back and forth, but then Farrow bursts through the doors from the kitchen, followed by his entourage.

I throw my phone at him and charge, leaping up and losing my mind as I throw pathetic punches. He slams me down on one of the round tables for customers, prying my arms and legs away from him. I roll off the table, landing on my feet and glaring at all of them, including Hunter who leans against the wall behind the counter. His arms are folded over his chest, his eyes amused.

“Vandalizing schools now?” I growl.

“What did you think they were going to do to my house when you tried to lure everyone there instead?”

I wasn’t trying to lure everyone there. I was trying to lure him there. Bringing the Rebels was his idea.

His eyes sharpen. “Was Kade waiting for us?”

“A lot was waiting, I’m sure,” I retort.

Sure. I warned Kade they were coming, which I wouldn’t have done if it were just Hunter coming. That’s Hunter’s fault.

And it’s mine that I underestimated him.

“How am I supposed to keep the cops from arresting me?” I ask.

“It’s Rivalry Week,” he says yet again. “They expect this.”

One of my eyebrows shoots up. He got arrested right along with Kade, Hawke, and me when we half-buried someone’s car on Weston’s football field more than a year ago. It was property damage. Same as this. Our parents got us out of it. They might not again.

Finally, he shrugs. “I’ll call my dad. You’ll be fine.”

“She won’t be fine.” Farrow looks at me when he says it, though. “The Pirates will never trust her again. Not completely.”

I glare at all of them—T.C., Anders, Luca, Calvin, Constin, Farrow, and Hunter. “I have ten days to turn this around. I can still make your life hell before I leave.”

“You’re never leaving.”

But it’s not Farrow who says it. Or Hunter.

“They don’t want you,” Constin tells me. “We do.”

I stare at him, everyone else falling silent. I’m never leaving? So what, if I try, they’ll kill me and keep my body in Weston forever like Winslet?

“You don’t want me,” I tell them. “You want a Pirate. You don’t give a shit about me. You don’t even know me—”

The alarm goes off and everyone jumps.

But I don’t. “I forgot to disengage the alarm,” I say. “Hunter knows the code.”

He hoods his eyes and pushes off the wall, everyone following him into the kitchen to cut the alarm before the cops show up.

I back up quickly, while everyone is out of sight, and spin around, feeling behind the frame of the mirror for the latch. I press it, the mirror clicking open, and I slip inside, smoothly closing the secret entrance to the old, hidden speakeasy. I stand on the other side of the glass, hearing the alarm go silent as I tap out a text to Kade.

Frosted.

One by one, everyone slips back through the kitchen door, into the bakery, and Calvin whirls around, looking for me.

“Where’d she go?” he shouts. He runs to the front door of the store, yanking on it, but it’s locked.

Hunter steps back into the shop, his eyes slowly drifting around for me.

I stand there, watching them look right over me, only a thin piece of glass between us.

Quinn almost had the mirror removed when she bought the place. What a weird thing to have in a bakery anyway. Especially a mirror rising from nearly floor to ceiling—same size as a door.

But Hawke, after realizing what was here, stopped her before she looked too closely. And before a contractor could try to pry it off.

Then, when she wanted the old wallpaper peeled away, Hawke volunteered himself for the job. He repaired the drywall, primed, and painted. She never concerned herself with it again.

He’ll tell her, of course, but Quinn is a rule-follower. He wants me to be eighteen, and a legal adult, before I get up to whatever trouble she thinks I might get up to in here. Otherwise, she might tell our parents about our hideout.

I’m not sure when Hawke planned on telling Hunter, but as Hunter’s eyes stop on the mirror and he steps closer and closer to me, looking like he’s barely breathing, I’m a little worried Hawke might not need to.

I might not be able to watch Kade show up, after all.

Behind him, his friends look behind the counter and under the tables as Calvin twists the deadbolt and peers outside. Hunter remains still, his frame filling the mirror.

I watch his eyes glide around the perimeter. Placing his fingertips against the glass, he presses, but it doesn’t give way.

He knows, though. It’s only a matter of time before—

Just then, my phone rings in my hand, and I suck in a breath as Hunter’s eyes widen. Kade’s name appears on my screen just as Hunter’s gaze sharpens, knowing I’m here. I don’t know if the others have caught on yet, but I don’t wait to find out.

I rush through Carnival Tower, down the steps, into the great room with a kitchen and common area, and climb the spiral staircase to the roof. Lifting the hatch, I slip through and let it slam shut.

God, I’m in so much trouble. Hawke’s going to kill me if the Rebels suspect there’s a hideout there.

Racing across the roof, I leap down the fire escape and jump to the ground, scurrying back into the alleyway again. Heart punching through my chest, I climb back on my bike and start the engine.

“She’s outside!” I hear someone shout from inside the bakery.

I ride away, fast down High Street, back toward Weston. A group of guys outside Rivertown look up at me, and I check my rearview mirror, seeing them scurry into their brand-new Mazda 3, but there are already two other pairs of headlights on me.

One of them is probably Hunter.

Go, I growl inwardly.I accelerate, whipping down the highway and then left onto Frontage Road, heading for the bridge. Should I be going to Weston? They just framed me for vandalism.

But I don’t think I can stay in the Falls, either. Which—it just occurs to me—was probably their whole plan. I don’t want to go home yet.

I cut right, kicking into a high gear and flying across the bridge. Horns honk behind me, and I feel them on my ass. I can hear their engines gaining closer and closer, and I hit a pothole, skidding off the bridge. I gasp, putting my foot out and dragging it on the ground to keep the bike upright.

My phone vibrates with notifications, and I know I hear two cars slam into each other behind me. I race off, the rumble of a truck right on my tail, and I whimper, but at the same time, I want to laugh. My stomach somersaults a thousand times a minute, and if I live through this, it’ll be the most fun I ever had.

If I don’t, it’ll be the stupidest thing I’ve ever done.

A horn belts out a piercing screech, and shouts fill the air as people lean out their windows. “You can’t hide!”

A car races up to my side and closes in. I scream, swerve, and plummet into another pothole, my phone slipping out of my pocket and falling onto the river bank as I bounce over the shoulder of the road. I fly into the air as water gleams below and suck in a breath as I crash into the river.

I sink beneath the surface, squeezing my eyes shut, and shoving off my helmet. My bike plummets, and I kick and push with my arms, but something tugs at my jacket, stopping me. I look down and start screaming, my imagination going wild, and I’m sure that it’s Winslet’s ghost. I grab where my clothing is caught, but it’s just the handlebar. I get dragged down with my bike, struggling to free myself, and then something else crashes through the water, and I see Hunter.

He yanks the hoodie over my head and lets it go. It follows the bike to the muddy depths below, and I swim for the surface, gasping for breath.

I blink away the water in my eyes, Hunter at my side, and look to the empty riverbank.

Everyone who just tried to kill me is gone.

I ball my fists over and over again, shivering under the hot water as it soaks my icy clothes.

Congrats, Dylan. Everyone hates you now.

As if they didn’t already.

For my family, I’m something to handle. For Kade, someone to tolerate. To the Pirates, I’m a girl taking up too much space. And to the Rebels, I’m a toy. Maybe even Aro’s only kind to me because of Hawke.

I peel off my flannel and drop it on the shower floor, hearing it slosh like a wet mop. My teeth chatter and locks of wet hair hang in my eyes as I hug myself over my tank top and jeans.

All the Rebels are no doubt congratulating themselves. They’re probably down in the street, watching the front door in hopes of seeing me run out and back to the Falls.

I squeeze my fists again so tight my nails dig into my palms.

I’m alone here. I’m alone at home.

The shower curtain whips open and I dart my eyes up, seeing Hunter glaring down at me.

“I don’t want you here,” I tell him.

But he steps into the stall anyway, wearing fresh, dry jeans as he squats down in front of me, getting wet again. “I’m the reason you didn’t drown tonight.”

“You’re the reason for all of this,” I try to shout at him, but my throat is thick with tears.

He’s supposed to be on my side. Not Pirates or Rebels. My side. What the hell did I ever do to him? He cut me off. He’ll barely speak to me now.

Steam billows around us and everything blurs in my view. Does he have any idea how hard it’s been at home? What made him think I wouldn’t miss him? This is all his fault.

“You were my best friend,” I say, tearing up. “Did you know that?”

I search his green eyes. They never used to look like his twin brother’s, though. Hunter’s were always a little bigger, as if he were either perpetually in wonder of something or waiting for something.

Now, they’re angry. They’re always formidable.

“I don’t have very many friends,” I tell him, in case he gives a shit. “They talk about me behind my back at school. They’re nice to my face, but they think I’m a joke.”

He narrows his eyes.

“Did you know that?” I ask.

He says nothing.

I swallow through the needles in my throat. People all but pat me on the head and think my entire personality is some phase that I’ll grow out of.

“And you keep looking at me like you hate me,” I whisper, my cheeks burning under his scowl. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

I care about him. I care what he thinks. He’s not just anybody. He’s a part of me. Our fathers are only stepbrothers, but that never mattered.

“Why do you hate me?” I ask. “I needed you. There were so many times when I was dying to tell you things.”

“Tell Kade.”

“I wanted to tell you!” I shout.

Why is he trying to insert me into his and Kade’s bullshit? We’re not a package deal. This is about him and me. No one else.

I know him best.

Or I did.

He was good.

Creative. Generous.

Why is he different now?

“I love you,” I tell him.

He sucks in a short, shallow breath.

The shower spills over his shoulders, down his chest, and the steam wets his hair. His gaze doesn’t falter, though.

“There’s no one like you.” I smile a little as I soften my voice. “You’re always reading five books at a time. You buy Christmas presents for other people’s pets. You never eat bread crust. Like even if it’s a hamburger bun, you’ll invent a crust that isn’t there…”

Like, seriously. He leaves a crescent of bread. Even on a hot dog bun.

“You tell me everything I missed when I come back from the bathroom at a movie theater,” I point out.

My brother hates it when I do that.

“And you hate it as much as I do,” I add, “when people eat while talking on TikTok videos, and then they make you wait while they take more bites and chew. It’s so obnoxious, right?”

Amusement rises in his eyes.

“I can hear your smiles when you talk,” I say. “I love that all of my baseball caps were once yours, and I love that you look for me.” I pause. “Or you used to.”

Maybe I didn’t realize all of this when he was around—or realize how much I’d miss him—but I always knew I loved him. He and Kade were never one person. It wasn’t both or nothing. They were always distinguishable from each other. I need Hunter.

“It seems I’m always chasing something.” I shake my head, thinking about home and school. “Other cars on the track. My parents with their busy schedules. School…” I meet his eyes. “I used to wake up as a kid and you’d be asleep next to me. You’d just show up at some point through the night. I never felt unwanted. You looked for me when you walked into a room.” I lower my voice. “Me.”

My parents love me, but they don’t count. I’ve been homesick for him since he left.

I stare at his face, seeing the slight way his right eye zones in on me more than the left, because he doesn’t want to stay mad, but he’s trying hard to.

His stern jaw that looks more angular than it did when we were twelve.

His eyebrows and how they got a little darker. His bottom lip and how it’s fuller than I remember. I gaze at it.

I used to know everything about him. Now, it’s like I’ve missed so much.

He’s kissed girls. I know he has.

They look at him at school. A lot.

I should know about girlfriends, right? Those are things he should be telling me because we’re close. Or we used to be.

I should know who and when and how far he’s gone. I should know everything about him.

I clench my jaw. Girls at that roller skating restaurant looked at him like I wasn’t standing right there. I mean, it’s not like they need my permission or anything, but I just…

I…

It’s like…

It’s just…

I…

I just don’t like it.

The words crawl up my throat, but I’m almost too scared to think them, let alone say them. He’s mine.

I grind my teeth together.

He has a tan left over from summer that still makes his neck and chest look golden, the veins in his hands and arms course just underneath the skin. His muscles are bigger now because he spent the summer getting ready to face Kade on the field this season.

His fingers are still the same, though—long, like an artist’s.

It makes them good at holding a football too, I guess.

“We’ve slept in the same bed a hundred times and taken baths together,” I laugh under my breath. “I’ve spent more of my waking hours with you than anyone. You’re in all of my history, Hunter.”

“History…” he murmurs. “Yes.”

He says it as if I meant something bad by it.

My heart starts to ache, but he rises, looking down at me. “Things have changed, Dylan. We can’t be friends anymore.”

“Why?” I leap to my feet. “Nothing has changed.”

“Everything has changed!” he snaps. “We’re not kids anymore. When are you going to grow up?”

I recoil like I’m being hammered into the dirt. I’m not grown up? He’s the one who ran away.

I drop my eyes, seeing his jeans, soaked again, and his bare feet on the tile. Why does anything have to change?

I stare at his waist as water spills off his belt that hangs open. The top button of his jeans is open too. I force down the lump in my throat.

I was sixteen the last time I had my arms around his waist. What changed in only a couple of years?

“You want everything to be how it used to be?” he asks. “You think we can still play? Like we used to? Really?”

“Can’t we?”

I still like to climb trees.

“Aren’t we too old?” he asks.

I shake my head. “We can still race bikes. It’s just motorcycles now. Right?”

A faint smile crosses his lips.

“Explore caves?” he presses. “Roller blade? Dive for swim rings? Hide and seek?”

“Build a fort?” I say, starting to smile. “Water balloons?”

See? He’s getting the hang of it again. I’ll remind him of how fun we were together.

But then he takes a step toward me and reaches out, placing one hand on the shower wall and the other on the shower rod, his chest splayed in front of me. My heart thuds hard in my chest.

“Take a bath?” he adds.

My chest caves. Take a bath…

Like we used to.

I hold Hunter’s eyes, his steady, hard gaze unblinking, and I barely notice the music pumping from the first floor of the house.

He’s testing me. Trying to get me to fold. Trying to make me angry. To make me cry or pout or run.

The pulse in my neck throbs, but I don’t get mad.

I don’t run.

The skin of my nipples tightens under my tank top.

And I watch as he pulls the curtain closed, shielding us both inside.