They finally move when I nudge my way past them.
“I don’t want you anywhere near him,” Dad says, expression stern.
He used to smile so much. I miss it. Most days I just want back the man who would laugh with us.
“I agree,” Holden says. “I told you, I don’t want him to hurt you.”
Everyone around here is a broken record. It’s like they all forgot about Fox and just believe what the town says—that he’s bad news and a twisted monster, troubled like his dad. It’s all bullshit.
I whip around, tired of it all. “Why, Dad? Tell me.”
The cagey expression doesn’t bode well, turning my stomach into a knot. Whenever I’ve pressed about Fox and his family in the last year, even to bring up good memories, my parents get like this. At first I thought they were just upset—they lost their friends as much as Holden and I did—but now I’m wondering if it’s something more.
Could they be hiding something?
Maybe Fox isn’t the only one who won’t be honest with me.
“Why,” I repeat more firmly. “I’m not a kid, so stop treating me like one.”
He opens his mouth, then scrubs a hand over it, shaking his head sharply. Turning his back on me, he sets our Fort Knox-worthy security system. “Just stay the hell away from him, Maisy. Pretend Fox Wilder never existed in the first place and all our lives will be better for it.”
My stomach swoops as I think of everything my family doesn’t know about between Fox and I.
Too late.
Twelve
Fox
Regret filters in and out as I pull into the garage at the warehouse. Once I park the bike, my thumb finds the old ding in the chrome and I rub it.
I don’t know what made me fold and give Maisy a ride. Instead of stranding her, I hesitated. Something about that stubborn expression cracking at the thought of being stranded, alone. I couldn’t take it, so I gave her the ride.
Her broken promise stole my dad away and I enjoyed driving her around for an hour. The feel of her arms locked around me and the echo of her body plastered against my back lingers. The sound of her joyful yell as my bike cut through the mountain roads plays on repeat. Every minute is burned into my brain. For a short while, it was like everything was how it should be.
Feelings I’ve suppressed and rejected for so long unfurled in my chest, refusing to be smothered completely.
A heavy breath leaves me.
The girl I used to climb trees with loved being on my bike. And I fucking liked it.
She still wears that same damn bracelet from when we were kids. I recognized it as soon as I snagged her wrist for a better look. My skin prickles with awareness. She wears the stones as a reminder of the ocean, and I tattooed it on my skin. I remember the day I found those stones for her.
The rocks and shells we picked have piled up in our bucket. My concentration was focused on the damp sand in search of more. Holden trailed behind me, climbing a rock jutting from the sand while Maisy poked her nose close to a tide pool at the base.
“There are tiny fish,” she said. “Come look, Fox.”
Before I went to her, a small cluster of stones caught my eye. One was white with black lines running through it, another waas blue, almost like seaglass, and another was orange with speckles. As soon as I spotted them, Maisy filled my head. I scooped them up, dusting off the sand. They were cooler than the finds we collected in our bucket, and I knew I had to give them to her.
“Here,” I said when I reached her side by the tide pool. “Found these for you.”
She took them with a murmur of thanks and her eyes lit up. “These are so cool.”
There was a weird warmth in my chest and I rubbed at it. When her gaze lifted to meet mine, it was like the butterflies she loved to chase in the field at the end of our block lived inside my ribs.
“I love them. Thanks, dude.”
“Yeah. They made me think of you.”
She held up the blue one. “This one looks like your eyes.”
Holden’s laugh sounded behind me. “You gave the crybaby pretty stones?” He nudged my shoulder. “Lame.”
“Shut up, Holden,” Maisy said.
“You’re jealous,” I added.
“Am not.” He shoved me harder. “Whatever.”
Maisy and I snickered as Holden trudged down the beach, back to the area our parents were set up. Her attention returned to the stones I gave her and her mouth stretched into a wide grin.
Again, I try to suppress the same warmth trying to unfold and take flight. The past is better left buried. She needs to let it go...and so do I.
My mouth fills with a bitter taste as conflict plagues me. I keep allowing my judgement to be clouded, holding back when I should be enacting my revenge.
It’s getting harder to keep my focus around her. Maybe I never should have touched her. If I didn’t know what the coconut and floral scent tasted like on her skin, didn’t know how to bury my fingers in her pussy and curl to make her breath hitch I wouldn’t be in these situations where my goddamn dick takes over and makes me forget to hate her.
Every time I think I know what she’ll do, she turns around and does the opposite. When I corner her, she lets me have her body. I threaten her and she…flirts with me. It’s got my head all kinds of fucked up.
What is wrong with me? Why is there a part of me considering giving it all up if I could have another minute of those moments together on the bike?
Blowing out an exhausted breath, I get off the motorcycle and plug my phone into the speaker set up on the workbench. The song blares through the sound system, filling the garage with the heavy beat of drums and guitar riffs. Colton didn’t have anything new that would help me out when I checked in with him after detention. Until he gets back to me, I’m at a dead end. The urge to work with my hands to clear my head wraps around me like a vice.
First I lose myself in tuning up the Charger, my thoughts swirling endlessly. As my fingers become coated in grease from changing the oil, I try to push Maisy’s tempting body out of my mind. Those addictive hazel eyes aren’t going to ruin anything, not when my goal is to crush her.
The only reason I came back to Ridgeview was because I’m out for blood. Nothing will stop my rampage against this town that turned on me. Time is running out for my plans. There are only a few weeks left until graduation.
It hits me then, after I finished with the car, while I’m making a piece of scrap metal bend to my will to become whatever my hands demand it create, that I’ve been more affected by allowing myself to touch Maisy than I was aware. I cut those thoughts off with a grunt.
I hate Maisy and everything she represents. She chose her parents over me. She lied to me and broke the promise she swore to keep the secret I showed her. There’s no way I can trust her, forgive her, or fucking have her ever again.
I told her I could hate her and fuck her, but it was so much easier to hold onto that feeling when she wasn’t in front of me all the time. Before those sounds began haunting my dreams, making me want old desires I burned out of myself years ago. Before I was faced with the same stubborn determination and wild spirit that I loved in her when we were kids.
Goddamn it. I didn’t try hard enough to cut my feelings for her out of my heart. I can’t want her. I won’t betray my family’s memory.
Longing for the misty ocean air at the cove in Thorne Point winds around me. I wish I could go there now. Instead, I rub at my chest where it’s tattooed as a permanent reminder. The sound of the waves crashing against the rocks on foggy mornings always helped when I couldn’t run far enough from the demons in my nightmares. Wanting Maisy Landry more than I hate her and her family is the worst nightmare I’ve ever faced.
When working in the garage isn’t doing what it usually does to clear my head, I head upstairs and spend the next hour pushing my body until I’m drenched in sweat and panting raggedly. The smack of my fists against the punching bag becomes the only sound I’m aware of as
I picture Richard and Jacqueline Landry’s faces, throwing hit after hit. With a fierce growl I throw another jab.
I put my body through hell, punishing it for my mistakes. My chest burns with each breath I drag in, but I keep going, sweat droplets rolling down my flushed bare chest. Damp tendrils of dark hair hang over my forehead as I take another swing at the bag. Each brutal punch is penance, an apology to my parents’ ghosts.
Levi’s gruff voice becomes my conscience when my form becomes too sloppy, reminding me of the time I spent in the boxing ring with him back east. Colton’s friend would be pissed if he caught me right now. The guy is like a machine, with deathly focus on honing the weapon he’s crafted his body into. Not all of us hit the bag to be the terrifying demon whispered about throughout Thorne Point—the rest of us just need to shut our brains up for a while.
Dropping my head back and propping my hands on my hips, I take heaving breaths and close my eyes. I scrub a hand through my hair and flick my gaze to the coffee table, where my laptop and the efforts of my hunt for the truth lay. I can’t wait for Colt.
I grab a quick shower, leaning my palms against the wall while the hot water beats over my head. My dick gets hard because I let my mind wander again and Maisy’s sexy smile and those fucking yoga pants taunted me even when she’s out of reach. I don’t touch myself, rejecting the attraction to her.
Once I’m out, I throw on a loose pair of joggers and sit on the couch, opening the laptop. It loads to the last thing I was working on—a PDF backlog of medical journals my parents have been mentioned in or interviewed for. They praise my parents and Jacqueline Landry for the advancements their research team achieved. My brow furrows in concentration as I continue to skim through them.
The other side of the screen has my efforts to track down an incident report. It’s been a dead end so far, and what Colton was able to mine from Ridgeview Police Department’s server isn’t promising. If I can’t pin Chief Landry with the incident report, it could be another dead end. I could look into CCTV to place the Landrys there, but there’s no guarantee recordings from a decade ago were kept this long. Colton’s working on hacking his way past firewalls to turn up old bank statements to find out when and how much they were paid off to keep quiet. For all I know they hired a hitman to do the dirty work for them while those greedy bastards reaped all the benefits of eliminating my parents.
I’ve been trying to remember what my parents were working on, but those memories are blocked by grief and betrayal. All I remember is wanting to show Maisy what I found in the garage, but no matter how hard I focus I’m unable to picture what was in the hidden stash and files I showed her that day I picked a daisy for her.
Something in my gut keeps pushing me to follow this thread. The key to what got them killed has to be in these journals and in their research.
Thirteen
Maisy
With a few weeks left until graduation, I’m no closer to figuring Fox out. After his threats during detention before last weekend, he’s backed off. It’s like being back to his cold shoulder again, his walls higher than ever whenever we’re in the same vicinity.
It’s crazy, but I actually miss his attention, even when he’s promising my downfall. I also miss riding on the back of his motorcycle. Once was enough to make me fall in love with the thrill. I want to do it again to feel that rush of freedom. It didn’t hurt that it was Fox I was holding onto, or that he didn’t take me home immediately.
He still knows me so well and it makes my heart pang.
Instead of hunting me, he seems to be focused on the other thing that occupies most of his time. He acts increasingly shady—which is saying something given the way people in this town call him a black shadow—taking calls in the middle of class and disappearing. The teachers do nothing to stop him. They couldn’t control him if they tried.
No one controls Fox.
School lets us go early on Friday for the holiday weekend. We have off on Monday and one thought keeps snagging in my head—a three day weekend is plenty of time for Fox to stir trouble. My curiosity buzzes with the need to know what he’s been doing and where he goes. If I can find out, it might help me get past his walls to finally make him listen to me so we can work through this thing between us—his grudge and the way our bodies are drawn together by a magnetic lure full of heat.
At the end of the day, I’m absorbed in texting Connor as I head for the parking lot. He’s planning another crazy surprise for my best friend.
Connor: Don’t worry about the tickets. I’m taking care of everything. What matters most is that our closest crew is there. [GIF of money raining down]
A grin crosses my face as I type my response.
Maisy: Dude, she’s going to love it.
He is done with waiting to marry Thea. He’s taking her to Paris to elope and bringing our whole group of friends as a surprise.
The way it calls up the need for adventure in my heart has me excited to pack a bag. I’m glad Dad is wrapped up in the parade logistics for Memorial Day in a few days, so I can duck him easily. Mom will be the tricky one to evade. If I can get far enough away, she won’t be able to get me before I jet out of the country. Holden better help, because I’m not missing out on this chance to experience the world. I bite my lip as a giddy squeal works up my throat.
This gives me the same heady feeling as thinking about my road trip plans. The crush of excitement is a full body experience, tingling in my fingertips to my toes as I bounce with the happiness I can’t contain.
Paris. Thea’s always loved it and wanted to go. I’m excited just to leave the city limits of Ridgeview. I haven’t been out of town since our family vacation in California.
The sight of Fox’s matte black Charger parked not far from my car makes me pause in my mini mental celebration.
Glancing back, I find him on his way down the steps to the parking lot at the base of the hill. Keys in hand, the locks on his car disengage. He doesn’t see me because he’s scowling at his phone intently.
It’s not like him to unlock his car from so far away without doing a sweep of his surroundings. Sometimes he acts like Dad does, on high alert for any threat, always checking the exits. I thought it was a cop habit, but when he does it, he doesn’t look like a cop.
Opportunity calls to me. I rub my lips together, thumbing the corners of my phone case, a photo of the California coastline printed on the back. It’s always reminded me of the day Fox gave me the stones on my bracelet. Instinct flutters across my awareness, whispering for me to take a chance. Mom hates my impulsiveness, actively working to rein it in, but I shove the thought of her aside as I close the short distance to his car and open the back door before the idea fully forms.
I’m going to find out where Fox goes all the time. Instead of following him, I’ll stow away.
After throwing a quick look over my shoulder to check that he hasn’t noticed me, I slide into his back seat. The rich scent of leather, wood, and that faint hint of motor oil that I secretly like best surrounds me, but I don’t have time to appreciate it.
There’s a big canvas duffel bag, a tool box, and what I think is a small drone. It’s a really weird mix of supplies to keep in a car and none of it makes sense to me, making me burn with the need to know what he’s been up to. It’s a little cramped and I’m thankful for my obsession with yoga to help me twist my body into a comfortable enough position on the floor behind the passenger seat. Shrugging out of my uniform blazer, I use it and the bag to cover myself in case he checks back here.
Hopefully he doesn’t look, because in my impulsive rush, I didn’t think about a good reason why I’d be camouflaging myself against the dark interior of his muscle car.
There’s no more time to think about it when the driver’s side door opens and he gets in. I hold my breath, drawn to the powerful presence he exudes.
Fox isn’t someone that doubts himself. He acts and expects the world around him to fall in line to accommodate him.
A
s the car begins to move, I wish I’d arranged myself so I could see him. It’s disorienting to be shrouded in shadows beneath my blazer and the supplies he keeps in the back seat. I have no idea where we’re going. He doesn’t speak or turn on the radio, like he can’t bother with any distractions. I imagine his expression—his sharp, handsome features locked in permanent grim determination, square jaw set, stormy blue gaze unwavering.
Wherever we’re going, I sense that Fox will get what he wants. It’s a palpable feeling that fills the car and almost chokes me in my hiding spot.
I try to track where we’re headed by the number of turns, but he takes so many it’s hard to remember the order. I’d never be able to replicate it. Dad wouldn’t be happy after all the times he’s drilled me with the necessary things to do if I was ever kidnapped, but I always write off his insistence that it could happen on his overbearing parental paranoia. It seems all the times he made me practice with him when I was younger, not long after the Wilder’s deaths, haven’t paid off because we could be anywhere in Ridgeview and there’s no way I could pinpoint our location.
Despite the complicated route he takes, we don’t drive for longer than twenty minutes. The car finally comes to a stop and I hear Fox release a weary sigh. I really want to peel back my blazer and peek at him, but I smother the urge. I doubt he’d be thrilled to find me sneaking around and spying on him from his back seat.
Belatedly it occurs to me that I left Holden’s Audi at school and I have no idea where Fox lives. My eyes go wide, but I’ll tackle the problem of getting home without anyone—Fox or my parents—figuring out about my little adventure later.
I almost jump when a door opens. The car shifts as someone slides into the passenger seat, the back of it pressing into me slightly. Whoever it is seems small, not heavy enough to make the seat crush me between the foot well and the bench seat. I regulate my breaths, glad again for all the meditation I do to know how to find my calm place as I strain my ears to listen.
Savage Wilder: Dark New Adult High School Bully Romance (Sinners and Saints Book 4) Page 11
