Total pages in book: 177
Estimated words: 173392 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 867(@200wpm)___ 694(@250wpm)___ 578(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 173392 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 867(@200wpm)___ 694(@250wpm)___ 578(@300wpm)
She arches a brow and walks away, leaving the door open. I smile after her.
We’re going to be friends. She just doesn’t know it yet.
Trace swoops up, pulling me inside. I spot Army and Dallas, busy in the kitchen, and Iron on the floor, playing with Dex. My smile spreads at how cute they are, but then it falls. He’s spending time with his nephew while he can.
“Stay,” Trace tells me.
I shake my head. “No. You’re having a family thing. Besides, I’ve got to get home to my brother and sister anyway.”
“Bring ’em,” he says, excited. “This won’t be ready for an hour. Go get them and come back. They can play with Dex.”
Paisleigh has talked about Sanoa Bay all week. She’s dying to get back.
“Like, seriously,” Trace whispers, coming in close and putting his arm around me. “Macon is on a short fuse lately. We could use as many buffers as possible.”
Mmm, tempting.
Macon strolls down the stairs, hair wet from his shower and pulls on a T-shirt. He swings past us and into the living room like we aren’t even standing here, and I see faint circles under his eyes again. Army and Dallas pause their conversation as he enters the kitchen, and then I hear the clank of beer bottles and the fridge slamming shut.
Army looks over at me, tipping his chin in greeting, while Dallas stares at me like I should leave.
I don’t look, but I can feel Iron watching me.
“I have to get home,” I finally tell Trace and turn to leave. “You guys have fun.”
“Dress up tomorrow night!” he calls after me.
I suck in a huge breath all the way to my dad’s car.
6
Krisjen
Twenty-one to drink, eighteen to sleep over.
I laugh at the picture on my Instagram feed, a sign hanging on the outside of the Jaeger house tonight.
I look out the window of Mariette’s, seeing the bedsheet with the blocky black letters billow in the light breeze. Trace can be clever when he wants to be. And I have no doubt that sign was all his doing.
My phone rings, and I see Clay’s name. I swipe, answering it. “Hey,” I singsong, clearing the dirty plates from an empty table. “Having fun?”
“Oh my God, it’s fucking freezing up here.” I can hear the shiver in her laugh. “But New England is super pretty, and I should’ve known Liv wouldn’t have dodgy friends. I like them. But I’d like them better in Florida.”
Part of me wishes she’d decide to transfer up to Liv’s school. I’d miss her, but I’d love to live vicariously. Olivia Jaeger and Clay Collins are most beautiful when they’re together.
“What are you dressed as?” I ask.
“Look at IG. We win Halloween. And you?”
I pull my phone away from my ear to check the picture she must’ve posted, but then I remember I’m still talking to her. “I’m not dressed as anything,” I tell her. “I’m going home.”
“No, you have to go to the party.”
“Why?”
“Because I need more dirt.”
I exhale hard, dumping the dishes next to the dishwasher. “Yeah, at my expense. Jesus, you’re priceless.”
“Oh, just go for it,” she says. “I would.”
“Easy to say now from the comfort of a committed relationship when you don’t have to suffer any of the consequences for careless behavior.”
“Whatever.”
Damn right, and I open my mouth to tell her that, but she cuts me off.
“So hear me out,” she says in my ear. “I told Liv your situation—”
“Oh, Clay! You didn’t.”
“Hold up.” She rushes to defend herself. “She agrees with me. She says it has to be Iron.”
“She’s going to think I’m treating her brother’s bedrooms like musical chairs.”
Why would Clay tell her? Liv is my friend, but she’s their family first.
But Clay kind of mumbles. “That’s actually nothing she’s not used to, growing up in a house full of bachelors.”
“But I’m her friend. It’s different.” I rip off my apron and throw it in the laundry bag by the back door. “I’m not telling you anything ever again.”
She seems not to hear me. “She says Dallas wouldn’t touch you with a ten-foot pole …”
I stop. “But he touched Amy last spring—”
“And she says it’s possible that it’s Army, but on the couch doesn’t sound like him. He prefers privacy.”
That’s probably true. I’ve never seen him go upstairs or come down with a woman. He always goes to their places. He shares a room with his infant son, so that’s understandable.
So, likely it was Iron, then. “Okay, so … what?” I ask her, grabbing my bag and heading out the door. “He surrenders at the jail in the morning. What am I supposed to do? Fall in love with him?”
“No. You go to that house, go up to Liv’s room, and pull out the Mad Hatter costume from her closet that she made in high school. Then you go up to him and pick a fight. Let him ravage the granddaughter of the man who’s sending him to prison.”