“Hey.” Nathan waves a hand at my face, sitting next to me. “You here?”
I flip him off and then chug again, leaning against the window. Our friends John and Kyle are seated on the opposite side. Their faces begin to blur, which means today is better than yesterday.
I’m about to put the bottle back to my lips when noses suddenly press against the window, and girls scream bloody-murder outside.
“Christ,” I curse before following their gazes across the store. Everyone here seems to freeze, comic books half open but eyes elsewhere. With their slack-jawed, wide-eyed expressions, you’d think an A-list movie star just made an appearance.
I’m not surprised by what I see.
Loren Hale and his half-brother, Ryke Meadows, just entered the main storeroom from the employees’ only door. Nathan, John, and Kyle purposefully escalate their voices and mess with the sugar packets, tearing them open and spilling white granules all over the table.
I can’t focus my gaze enough to make out Loren and Ryke’s features. But I’ve read enough descriptions on Tumblr from obsessed girls (and probably guys, to be honest) to have their faces forever imprinted in my fucking head.
Loren Hale is all sharp-edged, his jawline like ice and his amber eyes daggered and so scary. He will murder you with them. He wears a lot of red Vans and V-neck shirts. He’s so cool. His hair is shorter on the sides and longer on the top (guys take notes!)
How about no.
Ryke Meadows is all hard-edged, his scruffy jawline like stone and his brown eyes narrowed and so broody. He’s an animal. Beware. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was a werewolf in another life.
Tumblr girls are so weird.
And yeah, I read all of those in my free time. Internet culture is more entertaining than real life. Like right now, I immediately turn my head away from Loren. Because of what’s in his arms.
A baby—his baby. The thing can’t be more than two months old, and he’s crying hysterically at all the noise and attention.
I glance back, only once, to see Lily Calloway taking her son out of Loren’s arms. But he’s too busy to really notice. He’s glaring at Nathan, at me, and my friends, the table littered with sugar packets, their voices causing more havoc.
His amber eyes daggered.
He will murder you with them.
Part of me wants to glare back—to prove that he’s not murdering me with anything. But my neck grows hot, my stomach unsettled, and I focus on my vodka instead.
Another swig, I think before taking one.
I can’t even remember the last prank we did on Loren’s house. We’ve done so many, even in the past month. Even when they had a fucking newborn in there—stop.
Drink.
I do.
Not long after, I feel Nathan press closer to my side. Loren squeezes into my end of the booth while his brother squeezes into the other.
Tumblr is right, I think. Despite both brothers having lean muscles, runner’s builds, Ryke Meadows acts like the aggressive brute, his elbows on the table, the strong-hand that could literally drag any of us out of here if Loren Hale said so.
It always seems like Loren calls the shots though. He’s the talker—his features murderous and cold.
“Hey there,” Loren says with this irritated half-smile. It’s iconic, his dry smile that says you’re a piece of shit and you know it. I can’t even replicate it. I don’t think anyone can.
I hold his gaze this time. And I take the largest swig from my paper-bagged bottle. I’m not scared of you, I want to retort. I want him to feel it.
I’m not scared of you.
He tilts his head a little, unperturbed by me. His amber eyes are full of flashbacks, memories that contain all that I’ve done. The longer I stare, the more I see the paintballs I fired, blasting against the window—panic and shrieking from inside, from his soon-to-be wife.
Some people say that if you mess with Loren Hale’s girlfriend, you’re on his “metaphorical” kill list forever. That he has ways and means to do you in, to make life not worth living.
Too bad for him.
Because I’m already there.
He can’t do me in. He can’t touch me.
I miss a portion of the conversation, only hearing the part where Loren says, “I’m not going to lecture you.”
I lean forward, not rolling over. “You can’t kick us out. We have a right to be here like everyone else.” I watch his narrowed eyes flit over my features. He recognizes me from that night—the night where he grabbed me and let me go.
He let me go. Who would even think to do that sort of thing? Who wouldn’t turn someone like me in?
John adds, “Yeah, it’s our first amendment right to be here.”
Ryke Meadows rolls his eyes. “You all smell like cheap fucking vodka.”
“Sorry,” I retort, leaning back with a glare. “We’ll buy better stuff next time.”
“That’s not what I…” Ryke lets out a frustrated growl, and I guess I’m tempted to provoke this “beast” and see him lash out. So I make a crude gesture with my hand and tongue, the vulgar gesture known to crawl beneath his skin. Less so when it’s directed at him. More so when it’s directed at a girl.
So I’m not really surprised when he doesn’t launch himself at me. He just breathes through his nose and looks to his younger brother to deal with us.
Loren rests his forearms on the table, glancing between each of us with less threat in his eyes. “Come on,” he says, “you all look no older than seventeen.” He gestures to me. “Drinking underage is illegal, so you’re not in a power position here.”
I glare at the table. No shit. I’ve never been in a power position before. Not once in my life.
“What’s your name?” Loren asks me.
“Fuck you,” I retort, and I switch my V-shaped fingers to a middle finger. Flashes go off by the window near my head, causing white light to flicker in my vision. I wonder if I’ll be in a tabloid like Celebrity Crush tomorrow.
Probably.
They’ll call me the “unnamed delinquent”—predictable.
“How was that bourbon bath?” Kyle snickers. He high-fives Nathan across the table, and I’m reminded of a recent prank. It was John’s idea. We filled a bucket with his family’s liquor—stuff I would’ve rather drunk. His parents froze his bank account for raiding the cabinet, so it’s not happening again any time soon.
When we had the liquor in the bucket, we tethered it to Loren’s front door.
We heard it doused him and Ryke. “Two for one”—Nathan had said.
It’s fucked up. Because they’re both sober, and Loren Hale is known for his stint in rehab and difficulties recovering from alcohol addiction.
Ryke looks murderous at John. “You think it’s funny?”
“Ryke,” Loren says and shakes his head like stand down.
And I mutter, “Pussy.” I think it’s easier pushing him away. He keeps thinking he’s going to change things with us—but he can’t.
Nathan laughs. “Nice, Garrison.”
I almost choke on the liquor. “Dude.” I gape and nudge his side hard. My hood falls off my head.
They don’t know our names, but now they fucking know mine. I look up, and Loren Hale is staring straight at me, his eyes full of sympathy—I don’t get it.
I’ve fucked with him for months.
Hate me, I think. Fucking hate me.
“What are you looking at?” I practically spit. Help me.
“You,” Loren says with hot malice.
I feel sick, my neck scorching now, and I lower my gaze to the table.
“Here’s what’s going to happen,” Loren begins. “You all have two options.” We stay quiet, waiting for him to say, Jail. Jail. Jail.
“You can stop the pranks,” he continues, “never come around our house again. If you’re that bored, I wouldn’t mind hiring some of you to work here. If you don’t want a job, I get it. You can have a discount on comics if that’s your thing.
”
What?
I stare off in a fucking daze. Who is this guy?
Ryke says, “And I’d be willing to teach all of you to rock climb at the gym. But you can’t drink.”
“Sounds like so much fun,” Nathan says with a dramatic eye roll, grade-F level sarcasm.
I tear a corner off the paper bag. “And the second option?” I ask. Jail.
“You vandalize our house again or harass our girls, and we’ll press charges,” Loren threatens. There it is. “The minute we even see your goddamn pinky toe on our lawn, I’m calling the cops. Take it from someone who’s been in jail, you don’t want to be there. Even for a couple hours.”
I let out a short laugh. “When were you in jail?” The guy grew up as a rich trust fund kid like the rest of us. His dad could’ve bailed him out before the cops even put on the cuffs.
He captures my gaze. “I doused some asshole’s door with pig’s blood.” His voice is edged and chilling.
My face begins to fall.
“No way.” Nathan gawks.
I straighten in my seat. “Yeah?” I ask, more curious. “Where’s that asshole now?” What’d he do to you? I really want to ask.
Loren shakes his head and shrugs. “I don’t know. That shit is long gone, man.” His voice tries to soften, but his tone mostly cuts me inside out. “You’re going to leave prep school and you’re going to take your mistakes with you.” He looks at my bottle. “You can stay here if you hand that over and don’t cause any commotion. Otherwise, you have to go.”
“We’ll go,” John says before I can decide. He nods to me. “Let’s buy that six-pack and head to the elementary school playground.”
I don’t think I can drink anymore without puking. Not because I reached my limit—I just feel like I’ve digested something that doesn’t go well with vodka or beer.
But I don’t want to be alone right now.
So I rise with all of my friends. As I near Loren to exit, I look him over. I’m so fucking conflicted about everything—about who this guy is. About what he just offered. Take it.
And then I lose all of my friends. They’re never going to back down. They have this stupid prank set up, one that involves gargoyle masks. They’re not going to stop in favor of getting free comics or a rock climbing lesson.
I don’t want to be alone.
But I don’t want to be here either.
What escape do I really have?
I think short-term, and I shove the bottle in Loren’s hands. “Here, you won’t be such a pussy if you drink.” If I push him away, then he’ll make my decision for me. He’ll revoke his offer.
He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t even look mildly pissed. He just says, “If that’s what you think.” He tosses the bottle in the nearby trash.
I’m stunned for a second. I had my first beer at twelve. You’re a man now, kid, Davis told me and rubbed my head. My dad laughed.
In this moment, Loren Hale looks and acts more like a man than I do, and I was holding a fucking handle of vodka. I have no fucking clue what’s rolling around inside of me.
I can’t look at him anymore. Rubbing my mouth with a shaking hand, I pull my hoodie back, and the door chimes as I push through, catching up to Nathan.
When I glance back at the store window, I see that girl—the one with the braid and worn overalls. I see her stand up and approach Loren Hale.
I nod to myself. Good for her. She finally found him. And she didn’t need me to do it.
7 BACK THEN – September
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
WILLOW MOORE
Age 17
“Loren?” I ask in a soft, timid voice. I scoot around Ryke Meadows.
Both brothers are so tall that I have to tilt my head back and look up. Maybe if they were shorter, I wouldn’t be nervous. Maybe if they weren’t famous. Maybe if I didn’t know more about them than they know about me. Maybe if they weren’t the current focus of every teenage girl in Superheroes & Scones.
If all of that changed, maybe it’d be easier.
My heart thuds harder and beats faster—their gazes suddenly zeroed in on me. Looking down while I look up. I can’t really unmask their expressions. Ryke is stiff and unmoving while Loren shakes his head a little, his eyes flitting over my awkward frame.
I truly feel seventeen. I truly feel like Loren’s little sister.
Please let him believe so too. I made it this far—I made it to him. It only took almost a month of scavenging Philadelphia for Loren Hale, and the closest I came before today was a house party that amounted to a beer-stained shirt and mortification.
It took me a solid five-minutes to even climb out of my car and enter that house, my first ever high school party, mind you.
I felt in the way. I never knew where to stand, where to scoot to, and even then, I bumped four or five elbows and shoulders. I left with my stomach twisted like a pretzel. And it solidified what I’ve always known: Willow Moore is not meant for high school parties. I’m just not built to live through them.
Fast forward to today: My bank account is creeping close to just $50, barely enough for another night in a Philadelphia motel. I’ve already spent five nights in my car to save money, and my last hope was staking out Superheroes & Scones. Which proved to be the winning strategy, even though I always thought it was a long shot.
But I’ve found him.
Loren Hale is standing right in front of me.
Now for the hardest part. I open my mouth and adjust my backpack on my shoulder with a sweaty palm. “Hi,” I say. I lick my lips repeatedly. Hi—is that really all you have, Willow?
I had more planned, I think. I just—I’m looking at my brother. This is the second time I’ve met him, and I start to see a greater resemblance between us.
We have the same light brown hair. I subconsciously touch my nose.
We have the same slender nose—
Ryke’s rough but sincere voice breaks my concentration. “Do you want an autograph or a picture or something?”
I try to meet his expression, but he raises his eyebrows at me like, we can get anything for you. Oh my God. I immediately look away and push my glasses up. “No…thanks.” I cough a little to hide my nerves, but maybe that just makes it worse.
I’m used to seeing Ryke in video footage, yelling and throwing out F-bombs at paparazzi, trying to block cameras from his brother and girlfriend’s way.
Seeing him now—with an unshaven jawline, crinkled brows, brooding eyes, and overwhelming masculine energy—it’s like meeting a scruffy god in the flesh.
I’m surprised I haven’t combusted into flames yet.
Ryke turns to Loren, probably wondering what to do with a crazy, awkward fan like me.
Say it, Willow. Tell him that you’re his sister. Why is this so hard? I blow out a breath, prepared to let this truth out and desperately hoping Loren Hale will believe it.
I meet his amber eyes, our gazes locked for a strong, tense moment. And I say, “I’m—”
“My sister,” he finishes.
The hairs rise on the back of my neck, a chill snaking down my spine and arms. My eyes burn as tears try to well.
Loren barely flinches. “Willow, right?”
My mouth keeps falling. All this time, I thought he’s been looking at me like who is this girl? But he’s been really looking at me in disbelief like this is my half-sister, standing right here. He’s been piecing me together with the middle school girl he once met, so long ago. In Caribou, Maine.
“You…remember me?” is all I manage to say.
“Yeah.” His lips rise, and my heart warms. “The day I met my birth mother is one I really can’t forget.”
“Oh…” That was the first time he met my mom? I mean, our mom. My eyes drop for a second. She really did abandon him then…
I take a quick glance at Ryke. His lips are parted in surprise, eyes a little wide as they go from me to Loren and back to me. I wonder if he knew anything about me. If he knew I existe
d out there, or if Loren just kept it to himself. Because my mom told him to leave Ellie and me alone.
“Do you want to talk over coffee?” Loren asks. I whip my head back to him, a chill never disappearing. Coffee. “Maybe in the break room?”
I nod over and over, and the tears just keep rising. I blow out another breath, my strained shoulders loosening.
He wants to talk. He’s not going to kick me out. He’s not going to tell me to get lost, kid. I feel like I’m reaching out to someone who’s not only clasping my hand but drawing me closer, so I don’t fall backwards on my own.
For the first time since I left home, I feel safe.
* * *
I’m in the break room of Superheroes & Scones.
I can’t believe I’m here—and yes, I’m slightly shaking. My arms tremble, and my legs have glued together. I wonder if the jitters are from the coffee Loren handed me, the only thing I’ve consumed today. Or maybe it’s nerves—from being in the presence of a famous person for longer than one minute. Or from being related to this human being.
I cup the coffee mug, afraid to drink more and have a panic attack at Loren Hale’s feet. Please don’t do that, Willow.
He sits next to me on the bright blue couch. The break room is pretty typical: a microwave, small kitchenette, tables and chairs, a few racks of comic books, and a single bathroom.
Lily, her son, her bodyguard, and Ryke all disappeared upstairs to—well, I’m not exactly sure what leads upstairs. The point is: we’re basically alone except for a couple of employees eating sandwiches at a back table, sitting beneath an Iron Man poster.
I think we can speak freely enough, but if Loren is cautious, I’ll follow his lead and be cautious too.
“I…” I begin but realize I’m unsure of where to start.
Loren’s confidence radiates and practically dwarfs what little I have in this moment. He keeps an arm on the back of the couch, rotated towards my body. “How’d you find out about me?” he asks, discovering a place to start.
Now I have to figure out how to explain everything. I tuck a piece of hair behind my ear, having trouble holding his gaze. “My parents divorced about a year ago.”
Whatever It Takes Page 6
