Like You Hurt: A Standalone Enemies to Lovers Romance (Devilbend Dynasty Book 2)

by Kaydence Snow

  Every muscle in my body stiffened; it was a battle to relax my jaw enough not to speak through gritted teeth. “Shady, I don’t remember us talking about any fight night, and I don’t know what this is about, but I want nothing to do with it.”

  He licked his lips and flicked a glance over his shoulder, a flash of worry entering his gaze before he covered it up with a sly grin. “I know you used to be into it back in NYC. Don’t you want an opportunity to put some of those arrogant pricks on their asses? Guys like the dickheads you go to school with? They’d stand no chance against you, man.”

  He thought he was paying me a compliment, but my blood was boiling. His cousin had been the only one who stood by me in New York after all my so-called friends turned their backs, and Shady had been good to me since I got here, but surely even he must know what he was asking of me.

  “Shady, turn around, walk away, and never raise this with me again.”

  The sly grin fell from his lips, and his eyes darted from side to side. Then he sighed and gave me the first genuine look I’d ever seen on his face. “Hey, man, I’m sorry. You said you’d think about it when I mentioned it last. I didn’t know you weren’t paying attention. The organizers just wanted me to put a little sweetener on top, extra money, bitches, that kind of thing. They really want you, man. They think your history would add an extra . . . element to the entertainment.”

  They thought the fact I’d killed someone would make the fight more interesting—in case I did it again. Scum-sucking pond dwellers.

  I looked over his shoulder and spotted a dark SUV parked a few cars down, the two hard-looking middle-aged motherfuckers inside not even hiding the fact they were watching us.

  “What the fuck are you mixed up in, Shady?”

  “It’s not my scene, man.” He leaned in even more, lowered his voice further. “You know how I said Davey’s is kind of a neutral ground? Well, I’m not the only one who hangs out there, if you get my drift? Not the only one who does business there. These guys who run the fights . . .” He sighed and shook his head. “I try to steer clear of them, but they noticed we hung out and . . . persuaded me to persuade you, if you know what I mean.” He shrugged and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Don’t worry about it, man. I’ll tell them you’re not interested. I’ll take care of it.”

  I’d never seen Shady scared of anything. I knew he was into some dodgy-as-fuck stuff, that a lot of people were afraid of him, so the fact that he was doing someone else’s bidding . . . a cold dread settled in my stomach. For Shady and what kind of danger he was in. For Donna and what she was walking into every time she went there.

  “Would it help if I made it clear I wasn’t interested?” I flicked my eyes over his shoulder so he knew I’d spotted our audience.

  He watched me for a second, then gave a tiny nod.

  I grabbed him by the collar of his jacket and shoved him back. “Never ask me that again! We’re done, you lowlife son of a bitch,” I bellowed.

  He held his hands up and grinned at me, walking backward, then dropped a serious look onto his face before turning around.

  I let the rage show on my face as I got into my car, slammed the door, and sped off as angrily as I could manage in an electric car that was whisper quiet.

  The little bit of hope my conversation with Turner had given me—that not everyone would see me as a violent monster—was smashed to pieces, its jagged remnants left on the curb where I’d spoken with Shady.

  As I parked the car and trudged into the house—my body sore from my punishing workout, my shoulders sagging from the crushing despair—I didn’t know what to think anymore. Which side of the fence would Donna land on once she calmed down? She had said nice things when I’d poured my heart out to her at the park, but did she mean them?

  On top of that, the run-in with Shady had shaken me. I kept running over the entire day’s events, my mind twisting every single look, every single word, until I had no idea what was real anymore.

  My aunt was on me before I even finished taking my shoes off.

  “Hey.” She leaned against the archway leading to the kitchen, a steaming bowl in her hands. “Want some ramen while you tell me every single detail of your day?” She grinned, then slurped some noodles into her mouth.

  I dropped my school bag and my gym bag to the floor and sagged against the wall, not even trying to hide the despair on my face.

  Hannah’s eyes widened, and she abandoned the bowl on the kitchen island before rushing to my side. “Hendrix? What happened?”

  So many things . . . but there was only one my mind couldn’t seem to stop obsessing over.

  “I told someone what I did. All of it. I didn’t hold back.”

  “And?”

  “And she threw it back in my face.” It was so much more complicated than that, so much else had happened, but I was just so tired. I didn’t have the energy to explain it all.

  “Oh, Hendrix.” She took my hand, cocking her head to the side and looking at me with pity. “I’m so sorry.”

  I didn’t want her pity, nor did I deserve it.

  “Today feels like it’s been three years long. I’m so tired. Can we please talk about it tomorrow?” I begged.

  She nodded and gave me a watery smile. “Come eat something.”

  I squeezed her hand and followed her into the kitchen. I didn’t deserve her kindness either, or her ramen, but I was broken, and I’d take it anyway.

  After an almost sleepless night, I made my way to school the next morning still with no idea what to do next—about Donna, about Shady, about how ridiculously complicated my life had become. This was exactly why I’d wanted to keep to myself in Devilbend. But I’d failed even at that.

  I was tired and deep in my own dark thoughts, so it wasn’t until walking up the main stairs to the entrance that I noticed how everyone was acting.

  People were steering clear of me, but that wasn’t anything new. What was new were the looks they were throwing me, the hushed whispers. Students were glancing in my direction, wide-eyed, but looking away just as fast. Some of the younger students even turned around and rushed away when they spotted me.

  A heavy weight settled in the pit of my stomach. I rushed up the rest of the stairs and into the school, ready to deal with whatever fresh hell was coming my way next.

  Inside the doors, I came to a complete stop, the blood in my veins turning to ice. My eyes made a slow sweep of the hall as I let it all sink in, including the looks on everyone’s faces, and then I took off again.

  There was only one person who could’ve done this.

  Practically snarling at anyone who got in my way, I stalked through the school with a single-minded purpose—find Donna Mead.

  I was going to wrap my hands around her delicate little neck, and not in the way her freaky ass liked. I wanted to feel her throat under my palms as I squeezed the air out of her. I wanted to feel those fragile bones snap under my hands. It was the only way to make her pay for this—the only way to make sure that bitch never hurt someone with her petty, privileged attitude again.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Donna

  I tore the paper down and crumpled it, already rushing to the next one. My hands were full of large torn-down photocopied pages, and as the newest one fell to the ground, I cursed and jogged to the nearest trash can. I was only halfway up the corridor, frantically darting from one side of the lockers to the other to get them all down before more people showed up, before Hendrix saw it.

  Logically, I knew it was pointless. They were all over the school, every wall of every corridor covered in identical posters that read, “Hendrix Hawthorn is a killer.” The words were in red, stark against several newspaper clippings all photocopied over one another like some macabre collage.

  Had someone overheard us talking in the park? I was pretty sure Hendrix hadn’t told anyone else in Devilbend about it. Who could’ve done this? Who would go to this much effort? I racked my brain the entire time I attacked th
e red-and-black paper, ignoring papercut after papercut in my futile effort to stop this from happening to him.

  The only other person I was certain knew was Harlow. After Drew dropped me off at my car the day before, I’d driven straight home. Magda was in the kitchen, stirring a giant pot of something that smelled delicious. She wanted me to taste it, and usually I would have been more than happy to, but I told her I had to go to the bathroom and went straight upstairs.

  I was a little numb, my mind not quite able to focus on any particular thought or problem. It had all gone so wrong.

  Harlow popped her head out of the bedroom as I got to the top of the stairs. “I’ve been calling you for half an hour.” She frowned. “You OK?”

  I glanced at my bedroom door, then bypassed it and went to hers instead, wrapping my sister into a hug and breathing in her smell. Her arms held me tightly.

  “Donna, you’re scaring me,” she whispered into my shoulder.

  I pulled back and cleared my throat. “Sorry. I’m fine. Do you have a minute? I need your help with something.”

  “Yeah. What’s up?” She was still watching me warily.

  I looked in the direction of the stairs. The faint sounds of Magda moving about the kitchen, the radio on in the background.

  Shuffling Harlow into her room, I softly closed the door behind us. “I need you to look into something for me.”

  The last time I’d said those words to her, we were digging up dirt on the assholes who bullied Mena at her old school. There wasn’t anything really illegal about what I was asking. I just wasn’t sure I’d be able to find the information myself. And that’s what I needed in that moment. Hendrix had told me quite a story, but I needed facts, evidence. I needed something solid to hold on to so I could begin to put my racing thoughts in order.

  Or maybe I just needed to not deal with it alone. For once, I wanted someone with me as I dealt with something heavy.

  Harlow flopped into her computer chair, and I shoved a pile of clothes off the spare chair in the corner before pulling it over to sit next to her.

  She keyed in her password, and her three screens came to life. “What are we looking for?”

  “I need to know why Hendrix moved here.”

  “Uh . . . OK. Do we have something to go on? I need a starting point. Maybe his old school.”

  I sighed. “I know why he came here. I mean, he told me what happened. I just want to check that—”

  “You don’t believe him? What did he tell you?”

  “No, it’s not that I don’t believe him exactly. I just . . . fuck.” I dropped my head into my hands. How could I articulate to my sister that I just needed to give my brain something to focus on?

  “I just need more information,” I finally said and lifted my head to look at her. When she simply raised an eyebrow, I kept talking. “We ditched school this afternoon, and he told me what happened last year, why he transferred here. He, uh . . .”

  The words lodged in my throat. He hadn’t actually told me not to tell anyone, but it still felt wrong, as if I was betraying his trust when he’d kept all my secrets. So many secrets.

  But Harlow wouldn’t tell anyone, and I needed some clarity. I swallowed and just said it. “He told me he killed someone. It was unintentional, a horrible accident, and he feels like shit for it. I just need to know more.”

  Harlow stared at me. “Jesus, fuck.” She breathed out, then turned to the screens.

  In the end, she didn’t do much of anything I couldn’t have done myself; it just took a fraction of the time. A search of his name and New York brought up countless results—his family was prominent in society there. That led us to the name of his school, which led us to Austin’s full name and allowed for more detailed searches. There was an obituary, a few articles.

  I got more details, put names to faces, but really, I didn’t understand it any better. I didn’t understand why he got under my skin so badly. Why I’d lost it at him even after he told me about the person he killed.

  “This is some heavy shit, D.” Harlow leaned back in her chair. “Did he . . . what’s going on between you guys? Are you OK?”

  I looked into my sister’s eyes, so full of concern, and the urge to spill it all was almost palpable. But I couldn’t do that. My heart quickened at the very thought of it. I was the responsible one, the one who took care of her, the one who did what she was supposed to so that Harlow could do whatever she wanted. I needed a new plan, a way out before I could say anything to anyone. I just wasn’t sure what it was I needed a way out of . . .

  “I don’t know what’s going on between us,” I told her honestly. “It’s more complicated than I can even explain to myself. But please, don’t worry. I’ve never felt unsafe with Hendrix. Not even when he told me about . . . that.” I pointed at the screen.

  “OK. You wanna talk about it?”

  I got to my feet as it dawned on me. I’d never felt unsafe with Hendrix. How often had I wished someone would be for me what I was for so many other people—protector, defender, confidant, safe place to land? He’d been exactly that and more from the first time I saw him at Davey’s. I’d just been too busy fighting against it to realize it.

  I was a fucking idiot.

  “No,” I whispered, my thoughts far away. I leaned down and kissed my sister on the cheek. “I just need to think for a while. Thank you.”

  The next morning I texted the girls, asking them to make their own way to school, and headed in early. I’d planned to wait for Hendrix in the parking lot so I could talk to him, swallow my pride and apologize, but I needed to pee, so I ducked into the school—and that was when I saw the posters. Everywhere.

  I’d started attacking them immediately and had still barely made a dent. I’d only managed to do one hallway and the stairs leading to the back entrance.

  “Donna!”

  At the sound of Amaya’s voice, I looked up from stuffing paper into the trash can.

  Amaya, Harlow, and Mena jogged up to me. Other students were milling about too, and I glanced up at the clock. It was only another twenty minutes until the first class.

  “Did you tell anyone?” I demanded, my focus on Harlow.

  “No.” She shook her head. “I would never . . . oh my god.”

  “Help me get them down,” I demanded.

  “Have you told a teacher?” Mena asked as the others started tearing down posters.

  “No.” I shook my head. I’d been so panicked I hadn’t even thought of it. “I just started tearing them down as soon as I realized.”

  “I’ll go find someone.” Mena rushed off toward the office.

  She’d hardly disappeared around the corner when Hendrix came storming down the hallway. The girls stopped ripping down posters as the few other students in the hall darted out of his way. He was furious, shoulders tight, eyes narrowed, scowling—and he was heading right for me.

  I knew what this looked like. I rolled my shoulders back and steeled myself, facing him.

  He stopped right in front of me and smacked the pile of papers out of my hand, his fist crunching around one as the rest fell to the floor.

  “It’s a little late for that, isn’t it?” He cocked his head and leaned in. Anger was rolling off him in waves, but his voice remained low, seething. “Why bother taking them down when you went to so much effort to plaster the entire fucking school?”

  I forced my own voice to come out steady. “Hendrix, I didn’t do this.”

  He chuckled, the sound devoid of any humor. “Oh, of course. The princess doesn’t get her hands dirty. You had the help do it for you.”

  “Hendrix, I didn’t do this,” I repeated, my fists clenching at my sides.

  “You’re fucking unbelievable.” He was so close now, I could smell the cinnamon on his breath, feel the heat of his rage. “I know I got on your nerves, but all I ever did was try to help you. What I told you yesterday was . . .”

  He squeezed his eyes shut for a second, beating back the pain tha
t flashed for just a moment across the stormy pools of gray.

  “You keep saying you want me to leave you alone—fine. We’re done. You’re on your own, Donna. If you end up dead in a ditch, I no longer give a shit. I’m done with you, you spiteful bitch.”

  He took a few steps backward, balled the piece of paper in his hands, and threw it before turning around and storming out. The ball of paper hit me in the chest and bounced to the ground harmlessly, but I flinched so hard. My whole body stiffened with the impact—of his words, his rage, his hurt, all directed at me. And I knew I deserved it. I wasn’t responsible for the posters, but that pain in his face—that was my fault.

  Tears stung the backs of my eyes, but I forced them back. There was no way in hell I was going to let myself fall apart in front of all these people.

  More and more students were arriving every minute, most of them now throwing me confused, curious looks. Mena rushed back from the office, but several teachers had appeared already, tearing the rest of the posters down while trying in vain to keep the students calm.

  The girls surrounded me, all looking worried.

  “Donna, what’s going on?” Amaya kept her voice low, her arms crossed.

  I looked around at the chaos once more. I couldn’t stand there and talk to them. I needed to do something.

  Drew was standing a few feet away. One hand rested on his hip while the other rubbed the back of his neck as he took it all in. But unlike everyone else, there was something more in his eyes—fear.

  I narrowed my gaze on him.

  “Donna?” Harlow asked, placing a hand on my shoulder.

  But I shrugged her off and marched right up to Drew.

  He startled when he spotted the murderous look on my face. “Hey, D.”

  “Cut the bullshit, Drew.” I got in his face. “Start talking.”

  “I . . . I’m . . .” He backed away, his eyes flying about the hall, unable to meet mine.

  I shoved him, and even though he was practically twice my size and mostly muscle, he let himself stagger back a step. “Who did it?”