Make My Move

by J Bree

  I can literally see the thoughts fly out of her head as she blanches. “How do you know I have good taste?”

  Fuck.

  It’s too easy not to take the opportunity to flirt, even if it goes against my plan to lock that shit up, so I grin at her and suck on my bottom lip, rolling it between my teeth. More freaking out and averting her eyes, my head gets too fucking big about it.

  “Well, you like Vanth. I'm assuming your taste must be decent.”

  Then I leave, lighter than I have been in days.

  Chapter Eight

  Harley

  The good thing about being a Mounty is how fucking easy it is to find someone who wants to be bribed.

  The students from Hillview Academic School are all rich by Mounty standards but fucking nothing like the assholes here at Hannaford. I feel bad about pulling cash out from the account that Avery set up for me to pay the linebacker to take Rory out, but I can’t think of anything else I’d rather spend the money on than fucking destroying that asshole.

  Daniel Carmichael Jr. was cut off by his parents back in his junior year for sucking his boyfriend’s dick in the locker room in full view of the security cameras there. Fuck, he could’ve walked three steps further into the showers and never been outed in the first place, but he had something to prove to his high profile lawyer daddy.

  Fucking rich kids.

  Ash joins me on the walk down there, frowning at his phone the whole time while he tries to track Morrison down.

  “Should I be worried about the two of you breaking up?”

  I shouldn’t sound so smug but the pouting that Ash is doing over this is completely fucking pathetic. He’s always been cold and a little standoffish, even with me and Avery, but the icy cold fucking attitude on him these days is next level.

  “Joey and his little parade of ass-licking dickheads are worse than ever and Blaise said he was walking Avery over here when he was done studying. If you weren’t so busy chasing after the Mounty, you’d know this.”

  I shrug and walk down to the locker rooms, ignoring the look he gives me even as he follows me without hesitation. “She was studying with Lips. I haven’t seen Joey or his dumbass friends get past her once. Fuck, I’d trust her with Lips more than I would with Morrison these days. He’s still too wrapped up in obeying his daddy, and he pulls his punches.”

  That gets his full attention. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. Just because he’s not eager to bury people like you are doesn’t mean he won’t get the job done.”

  I scoff but I keep my mouth shut because, well, I’m only really poking at him to rile him up.

  I know what Morrison did for him.

  Daniel takes the money with a grin and a wink, eyeing us both like we’re dinner, and Ash sneers at him before stomping off. I’m a little less of an asshole about not being interested, because I need the guy to do the job right, but I make my point nonetheless.

  I buy hotdogs from the cart on the way past, scoffing at the sneer on my cousin's face at the sight of them. Of course the caviar-eating asshole wouldn't like anything that wasn't served on fine china or that wasn't cooked by his sister just the way he likes it.

  Typical.

  We get back up to the bleachers and into some decent seats just as the others arrive. All three of them. Together.

  Lips looks like she wants to jump out of her own fucking skin to get away from us all, Avery is a blank slate—which is a huge red flag, and Morrison has never looked so fucking guilty in the entire time I’ve known the asshole.

  Ash clearly thinks so too.

  Lips scurries over to sit next to me and as much as I’d like to think that she’s finally warming up to me, it’s definitely a strategic move to get the hell away from Ash and Blaise.

  Avery watches her and then her eyes flick between the rest of us before she sighs and snaps, “Morrison let Annabelle drool all over his neck in the library while he stood there like an idiot instead of shoving the skank-bitch off and telling her to find some other neanderthal to trick into fatherhood. His inability to tell her to fuck off is going to fill my planner up, and he's going to owe me more than he's worth by the end of the year."

  Ash smirks at him and Morrison bites back immediately. I ignore them, handing Lips a hotdog and enjoying the shock on her face as she takes it. There's something so fucking Mounty about her getting choked up at being given food that my chest aches with the memories of that fucking hellhole of a city.

  How do I convince Avery to keep her the hell away from there next year for summer break? How can I talk her into coming up the coast with me so we can spend the time together, safe and fed and happy. Fuck, it isn't even about getting to have her there with me. I've watched all of the girls I grew up around end up on street corners. The only reason my cousins didn't end up there is because my uncles wouldn't let it happen. Not that they'd feed them properly or give a shit about them, nope, it's all about the family name and reputation.

  They haven't figured out yet that the name O'Cronin is a fucking embarrassment.

  It only takes a minute before Morrison distracts Ash with random stats about the players, and they ease up a little on their cutthroat banter.

  “We’re not going to have to sit through the whole thing, are we?” Avery whines, cringing at Lips and I as we eat the hotdogs.

  Her words catch Ash's attention again and he throws us both a filthy look, pissed beyond all measure that Lips parked her ass right next to me. I don't know why he's so fucking worried about her, even without her obvious protection of Avery, she's still not going to change our family dynamic all that much.

  Lips frowns at Morrison lighting up a blunt and I nudge her gently to distract her. “Relax. No one here gives a shit, Mounty.”

  She shrugs and looks out over the crowd. She looks... worried. Sad. Anxious? Fuck, unless there's a fucking blush over her cheeks she's impossible to read, and even then she never acts the way I expect when she's looking fucking ravenous at one of us.

  I could fucking kill Joey for starting that stupid fucking bet.

  I don't know if that's the reason that she never follows through or if there really is a slum drug lord in the Bay that owns her, but none of that stops me from wanting to fucking gut anything that's getting in the way.

  I don't want to face the idea that maybe, just maybe, she has no fucking interest in any of us and all of the blushing is... something random that happens to her.

  Fuck.

  Avery starts bitching me out again, just fucking going to town on me over being forced to sit in these stands with rowdy football fans, but Ash takes the opportunity to fawn over his sister again for a minute. I've never seen the two of them go this long without figuring their shit out. They're like magnets, always finding a way back to each other no matter how much they bicker and fight over useless bullshit, and it's fucking jarring to see them like this.

  He tucks her under his arm and murmurs quietly in her ear, probably fussing over her about being here and being around Rory in any little way. He’s still worried about her safety, even though we’d made it clear to that rapist cunt that if he so much as bumps into her in the hallways between classes, he's dead. Not beaten or socially ruined or even put in a coma.

  Fucking dead.

  None of us would hesitate to do it and, even though Ash doesn't want to accept it, the Mounty girl he hates so much would do it too. I'm so fucking sure of it. The way she watches over Avery and their surroundings, it's protective and like she's ready to start fucking swinging if someone tries anything.

  There's guys behind us fucking around and it only takes one jab in my back before I turn around to let them know who the fuck they’re bumping into, because today is not the fucking day. It's never the fucking day, and when they settle down Lips looks relieved for a half second before she starts cracking her knuckles and staring out at the crowd again.

  She doesn't like being around this many people here, this many rich prep kids and their assh
ole families.

  I don't blame her.

  I interrupt Avery's latest rant about football, waving my food in her face. “We’ll be gone by quarter time, Floss. Just get a hotdog and enjoy the show.”

  She gags at me as Morrison hands the blunt to Ash and after my cousin has taken a drag, he offers it to me. It only takes me a half second to decide against it, waving him off.

  Lips murmurs at me grumpily, “Don’t turn it down because I don’t like it.”

  Huh.

  So she does care just a little bit about me... or at least her place in the little family that we are.

  I shove the last of the hotdog into my mouth and grab the uneaten half of her hotdog that she's abandoned. I raise an eyebrow at her and, just to fuck with her I say, “I want to remember every second of this and I need a clear head.”

  There's that fucking blush of hers again.

  Someday, some-fucking-day, I'll figure this girl out.

  I just don't think it'll be any day soon.

  She nods as the players march out onto the field and Blaise starts critiquing their movements, a high rambling of words that's more talking shit about them than it is about the sport itself, and Ash ignores us all for his phone. Avery reads his texts and they murmur to each other quietly, a sure sign it's their fucked-up father sending them pain and chaos.

  As soon as the game starts, I keep my eyes on the players. I pick out Daniel and Rory and then I watch them both obsessively, not wanting to miss a goddamn thing. Lips fusses and fidgets next to me, clearly bored as hell to be here, but it works out in my favor because she also spends a lot of time looking me over.

  I know she likes what she sees.

  I know because so long as I pretend I can't see her checking me out, she keeps doing it like she can't keep her eyes off of me.

  It's fucking distracting and as much as I want it to go on forever, when she fixates on my mother’s necklace I have to say something to break the moment, otherwise I might do something fucking stupid and I'll never hear the end of it from Avery and Ash.

  I clear my throat and say, “A senior tried to get it back for Joey during a fight. The leather won’t break like the chain did.”

  She scowls and crosses her arms, a slight shiver running through her body. “I hope you made him bleed.”

  I don't like her being cold.

  Fuck, I don’t like her being uncomfortable for any reason, but this is one case that I can actually do something about it without risking her either running away from me or punching me in the fucking throat. I shrug my coat off and drape it over both of the girls' laps, tucking one side under Lips' thighs so I know she'll stay warm. She thanks me with a quiet murmur and I shrug. Like it's nothing, keeping my eyes off of her because she handles shit better when there's less attention on her.

  It's lucky too, because I spot the play before it happens. “Fuck, Aves, this is it.”

  Daniel runs across the field like a fucking freight train, taking Rory down with one of his teammates in a maneuver that will easily break the asshole’s spine. Three other players pile on and I'm fucking positive that Rory will be fucked.

  The crowd falls silent.

  I struggle to keep the grin off of my face. I glance down at Lips, but she's watching every fucking move on the field as the medics all run out in a panic.

  Blaise whistles and murmurs, just loud enough for us to hear, “He’ll be lucky to walk again.”

  I take the opportunity to whisper in Lips' ear with a chuckle, “I paid enough to make sure he won’t.”

  She smiles, a real and fucking beautiful smile, and I ignore my chest tightening up over it. Avery tucks her arm into Lips' and gives her a smug smile, all confidence and ruthlessness now her would-be rapist is broken in half on the field.

  Rory never returns to Hannaford Prep.

  Chapter Nine

  Ash

  Going back to the Beaumont Manor for the fall break is a fucking nightmare.

  Joey spends the entire break too fucking high to function, which is a great thing, but it only means that Senior is pissed about his protege failing to perform and I end up facing the brunt of his anger on our first night home.

  I don’t like letting Avery know when I’m in pain, but it’s pretty obvious that most of my ribs have been broken when I can barely fucking move. I sleep in her bed that night and I plan to every fucking night that we’re going to be stuck here, guarding her in case he finally decides that he’s going to come after her and drag her to his rooms, all the way to that fucking table that haunts my dreams.

  The anticipation of that moment, the fucking showdown that will end with either Senior’s death or mine, is almost unbearable.

  Almost, but I’d do anything to keep my sister safe, including spending my time in this fucking Manor with broken ribs and rationed bourbon because Avery is too worried about my blood thinning out while I’m injured to let me drink it properly.

  It’s my own version of hell.

  Thankfully, Senior has to take a flight to the East Coast the next morning and we get a reprieve for a few nights, meaning we’re sitting in the formal dining room eating dinner under the watchful eyes of Senior’s bodyguards when Avery gets the video call.

  The Mounty never calls.

  They text each other all the time but, then again, Avery texts everyone all the time. Everyone. Harley, Blaise, even that asshole Atticus—her phone is always charged to full power and in her hands for a reason, but the Mounty isn’t a phone call kind of girl and she definitely isn’t a video call person.

  Avery glances at the bodyguard standing in the corner as she answers, lifting a finger to her lips as she gets up from her seat and takes off toward her room.

  I stalk after her, trying not to look as interested as I am but I’ll be fucked if I’m letting the Mounty manipulate her while I’m around.

  Not that Avery gives a fuck what I think about any of this.

  The moment the door to her room shuts behind me, Avery grins at her phone and drawls, “Miss me already, Mounty?”

  The Mounty doesn’t say a thing, not a single thing, and Avery’s eyebrows slowly inch upward. “Harlow, Annabelle, or Joey?”

  Still not a single fucking word but whatever is happening on that screen, Avery lets out a squeal.

  Fuck this.

  I swoop down to have a look but it’s just… shoes. Avery’s Louboutins, the couture ones she had specially crafted that she loves more than all of her other shoes combined, that she’s been fucking raging about for weeks.

  The Mounty grimaces at the sight of me on the screen and says, “Can you forward a picture onto Morrison for me? I’ve recovered his missing shirt.”

  Avery shoulders me away. “Of course. Who had them?”

  I can’t see a thing on the phone with the angle Avery is holding it at but when it buzzes in her hand, she shudders and frowns like she wants to peel her own skin off. Not a great sign. “Who lives in that cesspit?”

  The Mounty huffs. “Harlow. She’s stealing and hoarding from other students. Should I call the student hotline or will you deal with the bitch?”

  There is nothing on this Earth that Avery loves more than fucking with Joey’s little ass-licking flunkies, so it’s no surprise when she practically purrs, “I’ll do it.”

  They hang up and I head for the stash of bourbon, rolling my eyes when Avery clucks at me like that will stop me from drinking what little is left.

  I’m not fucking happy about the Mounty going snooping around Hannaford while we’re not there. What if she gets caught and drags Avery into shit? I mean, there isn’t anything that school or the attending students could do to touch her but it’s the principle of it.

  My ribs hurt enough to have me feeling fucking vicious about it.

  Avery disappears into the bathroom to make calls and get ready for bed. I try to lose myself in the glass, to forget about the sharp pains when I breathe and the fucking mess waiting for us back at school and the sounds bouncing down the
hall of Joey trashing the fucking Manor in a drug-fueled rage. I try but I fail because I’ve never been good at lying to myself.

  My phone buzzes in my pocket and I consider ignoring it.

  All I’ve heard today is a running commentary on the Morrisons’ fucking disgusting behavior toward Blaise from Harley, and it’s making me reconsider my position about not going on a killing spree, like Senior so desperately wants from me. I hear Avery scoff and laugh in the bathroom and something tells me it’s to do with the message.

  Mounty, I’m sending you something as a thank you for finding my shirt.

  It’s a group message.

  Avery has put us all together in a group message so that I can witness firsthand as the Mounty worms her way into my circle and ruins everything.

  My phone buzzes in my hand and I find Harley’s simpering after her. She would have to be blind not to know how hard he’s chasing her; this game she’s playing with him instead of just telling him one way or another if she wants him back.

  She shouldn’t be sneaking into other students’ rooms without backup. The shirt isn’t worth that much. Wait until we’re back, Mounty.

  The bathroom door opens and Avery walks out dressed and ready for bed. She looks so fucking fragile, so breakable, as furniture shatters down the hall at our brother’s hands. The same hands that choked the life out of her back before freshman year started.

  I still see it every night in my sleep.

  Don’t get Avery involved when Harlow finds out you were in there. She doesn’t need to be cleaning up your mess.

  Avery rolls her eyes at my text as she climbs into bed, sliding between the sheets and propping herself up on the mountains of pillows. “Please don’t ruin my night with this. Please.”

  Fuck.

  I set my empty glass down on the side table and slump down onto the pillows, scrolling through the slew of messages Harley has sent about the Morrisons.

  We’re going to have to deal with them at some point, but Blaise is still holding onto some stupid hope that his father will change his mind and love him.