by Tijan
I was torn.
Malinda’s eyes danced among us. She straightened up, her arms crossing over her chest. “Okay. I think I’m starting to get some of what is going on. You want to know about Marie? I’ll give you the rich-folks stats. And I’m doing this because I used to love your mama. She was the best kind of friend a girl could have, but back to DeVroe. She’s got money. Rumor is that she comes from old money back east. Her net worth is around fifteen million, but that’s all just gossip, you see.”
She pointed to a gate farther down. It wasn’t enough to hide the massive home behind it, which looked big enough to swallow up four or five homes. “She keeps to herself, is in her middle thirties. Nice, from what I’ve seen. Hasn’t gotten involved in any scandal so far. She works human resources for Kade Enterprises, and she freelances as a decorator.”
Cross scoffed, jerking forward.
At his reaction, her eyes lit up in triumph. She sized him up, angling her head to get a better view. “Oh, wow. Look at you. You’ve got a model face, don’t you.” She grinned, tapping her chin. “That jawline could melt women’s panties across the nation.” She looked from him to me. “You two a thing?” She stepped back with a knowing look. “I think I’m piecing things together. I heard Marie took up a new boyfriend, met him at a work event recently. She was called in to decorate a few new offices. Hmmm... Is that someone you know?” A smirk tugged her mouth. “Your father, maybe?”
That gorgeous jaw of his closed, and he straightened, staring straight ahead.
Cross’ leg had been like cement when she first started, but the more she spoke, the more that cement melted to wet clay. He wouldn’t look at her, but he was listening.
I knew he clung to everything she said.
We weren’t the way she was.
She was warm. I couldn’t tell if she was trusting, but she came up to us not knowing who we were to do us a solid. That meant something to us, even if we were being dicks about it. Zellman would’ve been halfway to being her best friend by now, but he was holding back because we were holding back. And I was holding back because she represented a world connected to mine that I never thought I’d step foot into. That was all. I didn’t know how to proceed. Trusting adults wasn’t our forte either.
I did remember Heather mentioning her friend’s mother. There were two, if I was remembering right. One wasn’t spoken about in warm tones, but the other was. I guessed this was the one who was.
Giving her a nod and a small smile, I said, “Thank you.”
“There it is.” She dipped her head in approval. “Heather’s talked about you. I always wondered, knowing your mama, but I never said a word—not even your brother knows I knew his mama. You’ve got her beauty. I heard about your father. I’m sorry for what happened. You might not know it, but I am a friend.” She winked at Zellman. “I ain’t no enemy of yours, you can ask Heather, though…” She tilted her head to the side. “I don’t think you will, will you? If I’m feeling you right, you keep your cards to your chest. These guys are part of those cards, ain’t they?”
She was almost having her own conversation, but she was right. Each of her words pierced me.
She rapped softly on Jordan’s hood. “You want to hear stories about some crazy adventures your mama got involved in; you look me up. I’ll tell you all about her one night.” She backed off, circling around us and giving a small wave. “I’ll be seeing you folks, I’m sure.”
And with that, as Zellman stared after her (the only one of us waving back), she made her exit. We waited a beat, and then Jordan started laughing. “Fuck. I don’t know who that lady was, or any of the people she was talking about, but she owned us.”
Cross was grinning along with them, which eased my shoulders. Air moved through my lungs more freely.
Jordan came back around and got behind the wheel.
Zellman hopped up on the back. He stuck his head through the window as Jordan started the engine again. “You don’t know who Mason Kade is? He was drafted to the Pats and already has two rings. Can you believe that? Bren, you know him?”
“No.”
I didn’t.
“Channing’s friends with him.”
He said it as a statement, but it was more a question.
I didn’t answer, sinking into Cross’ side. “Let’s just go to that stupid bonfire.”
For the first time in a long while, I wanted a beer.
Cross said, “We gotta pick up some of our own shit. The Academy assholes roofie their dates.”
For the briefest of seconds, I had forgotten.
But oh yeah.
I hated Fallen Crest Crusties.
The District Weekend was a long tradition among the three towns.
Each town took an event. The Fallen Crest bonfire was usually Sunday, but things got switched around with Frisco. The street dance was tomorrow, but I wasn’t expecting to have any merriment. The street they shut down was the one that ran in front of my brother’s bar and his new bounty-hunting office. Channing would be there, probably busy kicking anyone underage out of his bar, while debating selling extra booze to make some cash.
Alas, Channing was on the straight and narrow too, which meant no booze to minors. I, on the other hand, would just take whatever was under the counter like always. Still, my big bro would be there, and he’d be keeping an eye out—his unofficial role in Roussou.
Tomorrow would be a day when I’d try to disappear from the watchful eye of his guys.
But tonight was a different matter. District Weekend used to have the bonfire up in a bunch of hills north of Fallen Crest, but this time, it was on the southside and overlooking Manny’s, a popular place my future sister-in-law ran.
Heather had taken over Manny’s from her father, and she was now talking about doing some other franchise spots. Sometimes I forgot about that other world Heather was connected to—Channing too since he was going in on one of the franchises. Or two, maybe. I tuned them out when they talked about that stuff, usually slipping out the door and finding Cross.
Tonight, things felt different.
Not Cross, but the rest. The future. It was lingering, ever since Zellman had mentioned graduating. And the same old paralyzed emotion crept up my throat, threatening to choke off my oxygen…
Cross’ arm fell around my shoulders, and he pulled me back to his chest. He pushed a cold beer into my hand and lifted his mouth, pressing a kiss to the side of my lips. “You okay?”
We’d found a spot at the back of the party in the woods.
I’d settled against a tree that offered a view of Manny’s below. We could see all the cars, hear the customers going in and out. Heather stepped out once to yell at her brother and went back in. The door slammed shut behind her a second later, the sound echoing in the valley around them.
That was normal.
The familiarity had eased some of my tension, but now I had Cross for that.
As I rested against him, his hand trailed down and began rubbing my arm. He lifted his beer, taking a drag and just waiting.
He knew I’d talk.
Sometimes it took a minute.
“What are you doing next year?” Finally.
He stiffened, his voice low. “What do you mean?”
“You know.”
More tension, then his chest rose. “I don’t know.”
“Bullshit.” I stepped away, turning to stare at him.
Cross never lied to me.
He held my gaze.
I’d picked this place for a reason. I liked my privacy, and most of the others respected me, staying away. Only a couple of the Ryerson crew had positioned themselves not far from us. There were a handful of other guys scattered nearby. I suspected they were Fallen Crest because they were obnoxious, and they were wearing polo shirts. No one I knew from Frisco wore fucking polo shirts. Some of them had been looking over, their looks lingering more and more until Cross arrived.
I’d have to deal with them at some point, but I’d been
putting it off because of my thoughts.
They were dark—then again, that term could be used to describe me. I was dark.
Cross glanced at them, resting his head against the tree. “Let’s talk about this later.”
“Yeah.”
He was right.
Right?
Now wasn’t the time.
But…
“I mean it.” I touched his shirt, fisting a hand in it. “We graduate in a month, and no one’s talked about the after.”
His hand went to my hip, slipping under my shirt, and he tugged me to him. My leg brushed against his, and I tipped my head back to see him.
He rested his forehead against mine, almost whispering, “What does it matter? We’re staying crew, no matter what.”
Lowering my voice as well, I said, “I’m staying.”
He pulled me closer and nuzzled my forehead. “I know you’re staying. We all know you’re staying.”
“But what about you guys?”
Cross lifted a shoulder. “You want to do this now? Here?”
Normally, no. But seeing Malinda had spurred something in me, an urgency I’d been ignoring for too long.
“I guess.”
“Okay.” He took another deep breath and watched me. His hand moved up under my shirt, starting to explore between our bodies.
Mine did the same. I couldn’t help it. If Cross touched me, I touched him back. That’s how it was.
“I applied at a few places.”
My head lifted in surprise.
His eyes were waiting for me. “Some local that I can drive to, and a few not local.”
Shit. My tongue felt heavy now. “Where did you decide to go?”
“I haven’t.”
“My counselor’s ingrained in my head that I need to go to college or I’ll die.”
He laughed as his hand moved farther up. I tugged my shirt down so the others couldn’t see, but I felt his finger tracing my bra before slipping underneath. He cupped my breast, his thumb rubbing over my nipple.
“That’s what high school counselors do, but we have time.”
We did, didn’t we?
He leaned in, his lips finding my forehead. “We have lots of time.”
“Lookie, lookie, such a happy couple. Hmmm?”
Cross stifled a groan, lifting his head, but I didn’t need to ask who it was. I would recognize the smugness of my ex even if I were deaf. Lifting my head, I turned and stepped away from Cross.
Drake Ryerson stood, smirking at us, with the two of his crew beside him. A few others had congregated with them as well, and the Fallen Crest guys were more wary than earlier. They should’ve been wary before too, but they were arrogant and ignorant, just how we liked them. Their numbers were matched by our Roussou ones now, so they should’ve been scampering away. They weren’t.
We’d see what unfolded. If there was a confrontation, more would come running—either to join in or record it.
“What do you want, Drake?” I asked.
We’d had to deal with Drake a few times since he came back to take the leadership role for the Ryerson crew. The crew was named after their family, but ironically the only Ryerson in the crew was their leader. Alex, their last leader and Drake’s little brother by one year, had been kicked out then gift-wrapped for us to kick his ass.
He’d hurt one of ours, so the debt had been a long time coming. But since then, a tentative and uneasy truce had been called among all crews. There was no longer an unsettled rift between us.
But we didn’t enjoy them. And we weren’t quiet about it.
Drake’s eyes moved between Cross and me. A wicked grin spread over his face. “I almost feel bad, breaking up a moment for the two of you.”
He was right. We rarely showed that side. And it was over now.
I moved over, and Cross stood next to me, ready to square off.
I kept my hands at my side and raised my chin. “I won’t ask again.”
His eyes fell flat and his mouth pressed into a thin line. “You’re not being fun, Bren. You used to be fu—”
“I’d consider whether you really want to finish that statement,” Cross said.
A chill ran up the length of my spine.
That was not the angry Cross from his dad’s divorce, or the quiet one waiting for me to decide something. This was the Cross no one wanted to mess with, the one who had stepped out and became our crew’s leader.
He was dangerous when he spoke like that—calm, and eerily in control, with a veiled promise to back up the unspoken threat.
Drake had heard it too, and he stopped. He studied Cross top to toe, then lifted his lip in a sneer. “Fine. You’re right. That was rude of me.” He tapped the side of his head. “Silly me. I was responding to her as another guy who’s been between her legs, not the crew leader I am.”
I closed my eyes, just for a moment.
There it was. The taunt.
He knew crew law. He knew I wouldn’t take that and not retaliate.
I opened my eyes and saw him waiting, staring at me. I smiled. “Really?” One step ahead.
We fought. It’s what we did. The insult was to me, so Cross would wait for my move. I would make the decision to advance, when I wanted to do it. And if Jordan and Zellman found out, they’d come to help. Probably Race as well, because that’s what had been happening this year.
Race had moved to Roussou specifically to fight in the underground rings. He’d been training Cross, and the rest of us were no slouches ourselves, so Drake coming up here, picking this place to start a fight—there was an angle.
“Why here?” I asked him.
He smirked. “Maybe I just want to feel your hands on me again.” He looked to Cross, holding there a moment before sliding back to me. “Nothing? Neither of you?”
My grin wasn’t hard-pressed. This was bothering him, so that meant I’d keep it up. I didn’t give a shit about our reputation. Those who did had a reason they cared.
I slid my hands into my pockets. “I’m going to be honest; I’m enjoying how much you want me to take a swing at you.” I narrowed my eyes, cocking my head to the side. “Why?”
Anger flashed in his eyes. He clenched his jaw, then took a step toward me. “Why does there have to be a reason? Maybe I’m harboring some resentment for what you did to my little brother.”
Cross stepped next to me, keeping up. “You gave him to us on a silver platter. And we didn’t permanently harm him, per your request.”
His crew members shared a look, and a couple whispered behind his back.
Drake shot them an annoyed look. “You’re right. That was stupid of me to bring it up. We all voted and decided that was the smart move.” His grin was forced, baring his white teeth for a second. “No hard feelings on my little brother, but my cousin, on the other hand…” His voice trailed off, and as if on cue, Drake looked behind him.
I shifted over just enough to see that very cousin, Race, coming up the path. They’d been partying a little farther down. Along with him came a trail of Normals. Taz was right next to him, holding his hand. I skimmed over the group. No Jordan. No Zellman.
The back of Cross’ hand brushed mine to get my attention.
We shared a look. If Race was coming, that meant our guys knew. They had something planned. Or I hoped so, because I didn’t want to get my clothes bloody tonight.
“What are you doing, Drake?”
This time it was Race asking, and he sounded just as tired as I was.
Drake’s grin widened. “Look, it’s the cousin I sent to seduce my ex, and he failed.”
Race swallowed, his eyes passing over to me.
I folded my arms over my chest. “He became our friend instead.” I tilted my head. “You really up here hoping to start another crew war? Is that what you’re doing?”
He stilled at my question, his eyes firm on mine. “What do you think—”
And then there was an explosion from down in the valley.
I whirled, my heart pounding, but it wasn’t Manny’s.
A few people screamed. Others gasped. Guys cursed.
“Holy fuck—it’s our cars! Our cars!” The Fallen Crest guys took off, sprinting back down the hill. One turned and pointed. “You fucks. This is war. Don’t think we don’t know it was you!”
“Come on, D!” someone yelled.
Cross frowned, stepping forward. “That’s what was going on?”
Drake rolled his eyes, shrugging. “Thought you guys were in on it. What happened? Zellman not tell you the plan?”
Cross met my gaze. Race had shifted to stand beside us, Taz still holding his hand.
Drake’s eyes narrowed as he dipped his head toward Race. “This why you went to their side?”
Taz gasped quietly, pulling her hand away from Race. She hid it behind her back, averting her gaze.
Drake watched her with mild curiosity.
Race shifted in front of her, rolling his shoulders back. “What of it? You’re the one who told me to come here.” He gestured to Cross and me. “I didn’t know what I was walking into. You did, and you didn’t warn me. Don’t get all pissy if I’m not joining the family crew like you wanted.”
Drake glared at him, all pretense gone. This was his real adversary. He showed his teeth briefly. “I wanted you to take over for my brother. Love the kid, but Alex is a hothead. You, you’re supposed to be smart. You were supposed to lead so I didn’t have to come back.”
“That’s right.” Race’s tone was taunting. “You were at college, right? How’s that going for you? Dropped out the first semester, didn’t you?”
Drake surged forward, reaching for Race’s shirt as he growled, “Listen here, you little fuck—”
“I don’t think so.” Cross stepped between them, using that same calm, controlled, and almost deadly tone.
Drake stopped, his hand in mid-air, and his eyes snapped to Cross.
He retreated a step, bringing his hand back down. He seemed flustered, and blinked a couple times to regain control.
I looked from Drake to Race, seeing a level of animosity I hadn’t in a while, at least among family members. Then I remembered: Race’s father had slept with Drake’s mother. The fathers were brothers. It was messy all around.
