by Danah Logan
CHAPTER SIX
A knife. She pulled a fucking knife on me. Who the hell is this chick?
Common sense would tell you to stay the fuck away from this lunatic. First, she chases me down the freaking road, almost running into the back of my bike, then she bolts when she sees me, followed by threatening me with a blade that could gut a bear.
I've dealt with enough crazy shit to last me a lifetime, yet something deep inside of me stirs, wanting to peel back every single layer and expose who this girl is deep down. My intuition tells me the tough act is real, but there is a reason for it—a good reason—and I itch to figure out what it is. Plus, I can't shake the feeling that I've seen her before. But when or where?
There is no way I would've forgotten if she had been one of my drunken sexual escapades, as D calls them. Now that I have gotten a glimpse of her entire face, I got my confirmation that she is truly beautiful. Her eyes are the lightest blue I have ever seen; I definitely would've remembered those. She's around Den's height, her dark-blonde hair hangs in casual waves down her back, and her tan tells me she spends a lot of time outside—which is not hard, given where we live.
I stride casually to the front of the bar, not looking back. I know she's watching me, and no matter how badly I want to see her pale eyes again, I force myself to keep moving.
As I round the corner to the street, I almost smack into Kai, who apparently came looking for me. After she jumped off the bar, I raced out of The Grizz. Something told me she would make a run for it, and I was right. It was easy to spot her badass Jeep in the back parking lot. All I had to do was wait. I was not prepared for her, though.
A. Knife.
"Dude, what the fuck was that?" Kai is still holding his beer, and I grasp it out of his hand and take down half of it.
He frowns, pursing his lips, and I shrug. I didn't tell him about the strange encounter with her a week ago, so clearly, my behavior tonight borders on "he finally lost his mind."
"Let's go inside. I want to talk to Zeke's new flame," I say as I hold the bottle back out.
"Bro, I love you, you know that, but I draw the line at sharing a beer with you. I don't want your cooties." My roommate looks mortified.
"Ha!" I bark out a laugh. "I should be more worried about where your mouth has been."
Kai strokes his chin with his thumb and forefinger, grinning. "I guess that's a fair point. I did see Kennedy yesterday and—"
I punch him in the shoulder. "Shut the fuck up."
I pull the door open to the bar and walk inside. Zeke is still at the same table, but his boy toy is nowhere in sight.
"Where is Devon?" I yell over the music.
Rhianna has been replaced with "Antisocial" by Ed Sheeran and Travis Scott.
Zeke glances in my direction before pointing his chin toward the bar. I follow his gaze and find Devon now manning the bar with the brunette who was dancing with MOAB Girl earlier.
I turn to head in the direction of the guy who would give me answers, whether he wanted to or not, when Zeke grabs me by the arm. "What the fuck is going on?" He scowls.
I glance between his face and his hand on me, and he drops it quickly. I like Zeke, consider him a friend, but he knows that no one touches me without consequence. An unfortunate side effect of developing a temper, my fuse blows easily.
When I don't answer, he says, "Don't mess this up for me. Please."
Some of my determination lessens, and I dip my chin in confirmation.
As I reach the bar, Devon glances at me out of the corner of his eye, not showing any reaction. He is fully aware of why I am here, yet he doesn't seem to care.
Interesting.
The brunette stops in front of me. "What can I get you?"
Her tone is too cheery. I saw her mirrored shock when MOAB Girl noticed me—or more like I noticed her. They're friends; there is no question in my mind. But I won't play that card yet.
I nod my head in Devon's direction. "Him."
A smirk forms on her mouth. "Well, well, I didn't know that MPU's football star swings that way."
She wants to play games, then we shall play games. I put on an innocent pout, pretending to consider it. "I'm always open to trying new things."
I can see her fighting a smile. "I don't think you're his type."
I cock an eyebrow. "Oh yeah? Whose type am I?"
She bursts out laughing, then points a finger at me. "You're good, Weston Sheats. I'm not telling you shit." Then, she winks and saunters toward Devon. She places a hand on his shoulder, indicating for him to lean down, and whispers something in his ear. His eyes fly to mine, and he jerks his head up and down.
I plant my ass on one of the barstools and wait. They want to ignore me? Fine. I have time.
To my surprise, it only takes a few minutes before Devon makes his way over to me.
"Wes," he greets me with a blank expression.
I'm impressed as I see the same shift in him as I observed in MOAB Girl earlier. It's like they flip a switch and are a completely different person—one without personality.
"You know my name," I state.
"Zeke mentioned it." Most people probably wouldn't recognize the lie, but I do.
"Did he now?" I challenge him, calling bullshit.
"Did you want to order something? I have more customers." He sounds bored, and I fight the urge to applaud him. His performance is good.
"I wasn't aware that you work here. I thought you were on a date tonight," I push.
He picks up a glass from somewhere under the counter and starts polishing it with the hand towel he's holding. "Filling in for a friend."
"Yeah, she seemed to have to leave rather urgently." I nod thoughtfully.
Devon's shoulders slump, and he glances in the brunette's direction. I follow his gaze and find her watching us closely.
When he turns to me, his mouth is in a thin line. He's visibly fighting with himself. Opening and closing his mouth, he finally sighs, "You need to stay away from her."
I'm about to reply where he can shove his protectiveness when he adds, "She's not good for you."
Wait, what?
She is not good for me? That was not what I was expecting.
"Who is she?"
"She is my best friend. And I'll do whatever it takes to protect her."
"From me?" I ask incredulously.
"From herself." With that, he turns and walks to the other end of the bar.
The brunette heads back over to my side. After she peers over her shoulder, she plants both palms on the bar and levels me with a serious stare. "You won't get anything out of him."
"Why not?"
"Because he and King have been through hell together."
King. I school my features to not give away that she just provided me with more information than I hoped for.
"What's your name?" I redirect.
I expect her to refuse to answer. Instead, she holds out her hand. "Maggie. But I think you can call me Mags."
"You think?"
"My friends all call me Mags, and I'm sure I'll see you around."
After this bizarre encounter—all three of them—we stayed another thirty minutes before Kai had reached his public limit, and it was time to call it a night. He could finish at home, where I didn't have to watch him too closely. I would simply confiscate his car keys as usual and let him drown his…whatever his reason was that he always drank himself into oblivion.
I dump him on the sectional in the living room, and he lets his head fall back, eyes closed.
"Why did you chase the girl?" he mumbles, barely audible.
I peer back, assessing his ability to focus on the conversation if I were to tell him what happened a week ago.
Kai opens his eyes and peers at me sideways. "I'm not that drunk, asshole."
I huff out a laugh and make my way over. Dropping on the couch, I plant my feet on the fancy coffee table Kai—or more like his interior designer—furnished the place with.
He
turns his head in my direction and waits.
Rubbing my hands over my face, I try to sort through it in my head. After another deep breath, I recount the event after TMH to him, followed by seeing her tonight and wanting to confront her in the parking lot. I tell him about the knife and her friend saying she was not good for me. The only thing I keep from Kai is that Mags slipped and revealed her name: King.
Just thinking her name stirs something in my jeans.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
"Dude, I could swear I know her from somewhere." That thought has driven me nuts for the past week.
With his eyes closed, Kai had been listening to me the entire time, and I debate if he had paid attention until he says, "You ran into her about a year ago."
Excuse me, what?
"What the fuck are you talking about?" His bombshell makes me jerk into an upright position.
"I don't remember the exact date, but you ran into her—literally," he says, as if he was reminding me we had pancakes for breakfast.
I glower at him, biting my tongue. If I lash out, he'll clam up to spite me.
Kai smirks. "You don't remember, do you?"
My fingers curl into fists. I could beat it out of him.
Thankfully, it doesn't come to that. He pushes himself into an upright position and lets his elbows rest on his thighs. He tips the side of his head with his forefinger. "Photographic memory, remember?" Then he smirks. "Or not."
I'm going to pound his face.
He must see that I'm about to snap. "Chill out, bro. We were on our way to class. She came out of Professor Steward's criminology lecture and ran into you because she wasn't paying attention."
I rack my brain but come up blank. "How do you know what lecture hall it was?" Neither one of us nor any of our teammates takes any criminology courses.
"This chick I banged took that course, and I walked her there a few times."
I scowl at him.
"Not your chick. Jesus, you're wound tightly about her." He looks exasperated.
"I'm not—"
"You are." He cuts me off. "Anyway, she ran into you and then watched you the entire time until we turned the corner. It was like she saw a ghost. Fucking weird."
Fucking weird is an understatement at this point. Who the hell is King, and how does she know me?
I will find out.
CHAPTER SEVEN
I lost track of how long I stood in the parking lot until my feet cooperated again. I made my way to my Jeep on shaky legs, my eyes not leaving the spot Wes had leaned on.
Unlocking my car was another challenge. I needed to start carrying a smaller bag. Though, then I wouldn't be able to have all my essentials with me in case…
Pacing the living room for the hundredth time, I begin to second-guess my promise not to leave without Kiwi. He'd forgive me. I would have to grovel for a while, but we'd be okay in the end—we always are.
Echo follows me from her spot on the couch like she's watching a tennis match. It's past midnight. The Grizz doesn't close until two. This will be a long-ass night.
Suddenly, Echo sits up, perking her ears, and I stop mid-stride. What the—? I hear the key in the door and swivel on my heels, expecting Mags to walk in, but instead, I'm locking eyes with Kiwi. He spots me instantly and halts in the doorway. I stare at him with furrowed brows.
"Mags is closing up with Grizz. She sent me ahead to bring you your phone."
Oh.
When he hesitates and seconds turn to minutes, a knot forms in my belly. I can read him like an open book. "What is it?" I croak.
He closes the door and walks toward me without a word. Echo jumps off the couch to greet him, but he just absently pats her head. Clue number two: Kiwi would never not give my dog the attention she demands unless—
He holds out my phone, and I slowly lift my hand to take it. Dread builds in my core and spreads through every limb. My fingers tremble as I close them around the device. I hold Kiwi's stare as I pull my hand back and turn the screen toward me. It instantly lights up, and my eyes fly back to my best friend's. My free arm wraps around my stomach in an attempt to contain the dizziness—it's of no use.
Echo nudges me with her nose, whimpering. She senses when I'm upset.
"What does that mean?" I ask in a hushed tone more to myself. Kiwi wouldn't know the answer any more than I would.
"Roe-Roe, let's sit down." He's come closer, and I jump at his sudden nearness. I am too preoccupied with the letters taunting me from the screen.
I let him guide me to the couch, and I drop onto the cushion, unable to avert my eyes from the one name I haven't seen in years: Rae.
The last time I spoke to my sister was when Mom died. She refused to come to the funeral. It was a miracle she even answered my call.
Remembering, my heart rate speeds up, and my body tenses.
I still hear the conversation in my head like it was yesterday and not four years ago.
"What do you want, Roe?"
I was crying so hard it took minutes to get the words out. "M-mom is d-dead."
There was a brief silence on her end. "What do you want me to do about that?" Her tone was like ice. I finally understood why Mom and Rae didn't get along, but she had still raised and cared for her. How could she not care?
"C-can you come t-to the funeral? It's this weekend." I wanted my sister there. I wanted my last living family member by my side.
"No. Don't call me again." She hung up.
I had tried contacting her a few times since, especially when I couldn't pay the mortgage because all my money went toward the hospital bills Mom left behind. Rae never picked up again.
"Do you want me to read it?" Kiwi's question snaps me out of my catatonic state.
How long have I been sitting here?
I shake my head and take a deep breath, holding it as I swipe open the message.
Rae: Roe, he knows where you are. He's coming to get you. You should've kept moving.
I read the text twice, and with every word, my breathing increases until I can't get the air in fast enough. Black spots appear in my vision. What's going on? How does she know about him? I only confided in Kiwi. I press my palm against my chest. Why can't I breathe?
"Roe-Roe, you need to calm down." Kiwi's voice sounds like I'm underwater.
Need. Air.
A paw touches my leg, followed by a second until Echo is fully crawling into my lap. Her warm tongue licking my chin is what snaps me out of it, and I drop my phone, not caring where it lands.
How did I survive before her? A pair of arms wraps around both of us, and Kiwi leans his cheek against my head. I keep my face burrowed in Echo's fur until I'm in control again.
This night is getting worse and worse.
The clock on the microwave shows that it's 1:32 a.m. Kiwi and I sit at the kitchen table with Echo at my feet. She hasn't left my side, always one part of her trim body pressed against me somewhere.
"I have to leave," I whisper.
I stare at my fingers threaded together with Kiwi's, unable to make eye contact with my friend.
"No, you don't," he says calmly.
Why doesn't he get it?
I force myself to meet his gaze. "I was supposed to keep moving. I can't let him come here. If he sees you—"
"Roe." His harsh tone makes me pause. "You know as much as me that I'm not the issue. He's not gonna touch me. The real reason you're losing it is Wes—what he might do to him if he finds out about your little, uh…obsession."
Motherfucker. He's right—on both accounts. He would never harm Kiwi. If he wanted to, he would've had the chance. Wes though…
I pry my hands out of his grasp and cover my face, inhaling deeply. At the thought of anything happening to Wes, I feel like I'm being choked. I swipe my hands up and into my hair, taking a fistful and pulling. "This is all my fault. He gave strict orders not to stay anywhere longer than a few weeks. But what did I do? Blew it all to hell because I ran into Weston Sheats and
developed this unhealthy crush on the guy. I should've known better. Weston. Sheats. Look at me." I gesture wildly at myself, and Echo sits up, startled. "Who the fuck stalks a guy like this? Ask me anything about him; I probably know the answer. That fact alone would make anyone run for the hills. I'm a freaking nutca—"
"ENOUGH!"
I flinch at my best friend's outburst. He rarely raises his voice at me, and I don't like it. Kiwi is one of the few people I care about what he thinks of me.
Instead of responding, last week replays in my head like a movie.
The adrenaline rushing through my veins as I pushed the gas pedal down, Wes's bike coming closer and closer.
"King."
As I skirted to a halt next to him, my finger pushed the button to roll the window down. When he saw me—really saw me…
"KING!"
My head jerks toward Kiwi, who sits leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest.
"WHAT?" I snap.
He cocks a brow and pointedly looks toward my hands. I follow his gaze, and my eyes widen. When did I get that out? I'm holding my Guardian Helix in a white-knuckling grip—with the blade out.
A whimper comes from under the table, and I drop my second favorite knife as if it had burned me.
Oh, God.
I wasn't carrying the GH tonight. I only had the Du Hoc with me earlier. My heart is racing in my chest. I haven't lost time in over a year. Not since—
"You had it in your boot." Kiwi's subdued tone penetrates my ears.
I did?
I glance down at my worn Doc Marten boots.
"Roe-Roe." My eyes begin to sting at his gentle tone. I'm such a basket case.
Suddenly, Kiwi stands up and pulls me out of my chair. I don't fight him as he drapes his arm over my shoulders and leads me to my room. Echo pads after us, her nails clicking softly on the hardwood floors.
Neither of us turns the light on. Kiwi lets go, pulls his shirt over his head, and unbuckles his jeans. When I continue standing in front of my bed, he takes over. He picks up the sleep shirt I discarded on the mattress this morning, pulls my The Grizz crop top over my head, followed by dressing me for bed like a toddler—arms up, shirt over my head.
