by Lindsey Iler
“Then why don’t you tell me?” He moves forward, lessening the gap between us.
I inch backwards. “I can’t.”
“Why can’t you?” He stalks closer. Once he reaches me, he grabs the damp tendrils around my face.
“You’re a bastard for leaving me alone last night,” I blurt out the whole truth, the kind I haven’t been able to admit to myself until he’s here. “I hate you for leaving me alone.” There it is.
Breaker grabs my chin and lifts my face to his. “Don’t ever be ashamed of telling me how you feel.”
“How do you feel this morning?” I grab the bottom of his coat and tug him against me, needing him closer.
“I feel deprived.” He bites his bottom lip, and I mirror him.
“Of?”
“You.” He grabs me around my waist and yanks me into his arms. My legs wrap around his hips. “I won’t ever do that again. I’m so sorry.”
“Even though it hurt, I understand why you did.”
“Don’t make excuses for me.”
“Give me a reason to stop talking then.” I tilt my head, utterly overwhelmed by him. His lips catch mine, starting off slow. A kiss full of passion and love.
I’m slammed into the door, but it deepens our kiss further. This is need. We are two human beings, desperate to feel a connection to each other. It’s a physical and emotional response that has us holding on for dear life.
Breaker’s hand skates up my spine, ending in my hair and messes it up as he directs me where he wants me. I follow him, slowing and speeding up to stay in rhythm with him.
“I love you,” Breaker says between our lips. He tries to break the kiss, but I press forward, not willing to give up his lips yet. When I finally pull away, his slow, devilish smile sets my heart to racing. “I don’t care what our parents did or what they are yet to do, no matter, that’s not going to change. I’m sorry I made you believe how I felt is contingent on their behavior.”
“I love you, too, Breaker.” I start to laugh.
“Didn’t know loving me is so hilarious.” He shakes his head, pure amusement in the way he nibbles on the tip of his tongue.
“Nothing funny. I never expected you, is all.” I grab his hand, toying with his rings and tracing the tattoos on his fingers.
“Yeah, I get that.” He grabs my face and kisses me one more time. “Let’s get you to class.”
“The gauntlet’s tonight,” I blurt as we walk hand-in-hand through campus.
“It is.” Breaker’s expression stays unmoved.
“How bad is this going to be?” I ask, remembering the cold way he spoke to Marek when he’d asked him to call it.
“You caught on to that, did you?” He lifts my hand and kisses my palm, sending tingles over my skin.
“It involves Madison?” I question deeper. He nods in answer. “Is she okay with you using her?”
“When I got home last night, we talked about it. She said whatever I needed.”
“Do you think she’s in love with you?” The question surprises us both. “What, it’s not so far out in left field, right?”
“She may have been, but not anymore. She’s special to me, and I’m sorry if that hurts you in some way, but it’s more platonic.”
“No, it’s not like that. I just wonder why she’s doing all this for us.”
“She’s like us, baby. She’s wrapped up in a world that corruption rules supreme. The things she’s seen and heard, no girl should have to witness. She’s meant to stay quiet. Be seen but never heard. Perhaps we can give her a voice when the rest of the world is trying to silence her,” Breaker explains.
His words are so eloquently spoken and utterly heartbreaking.
“Your soul isn’t as dark as I once believed,” I say.
“Don’t confuse my kindness for weakness. I’ll still paint the walls red for the right reason.” He kisses my temple and steers me towards my class. “Taking down our three families is a pretty good reason.”
My phone vibrates in my bag resting against my leg. I take it out and see three missed calls from my father and several missed texts from Tripp. “Shit.”
“Has he been in contact with you since the night on the bridge?” Breaker asks, spotting Tripp’s name in my messages.
“Just through texts. I haven’t answered any of them.” I hand over my phone, not willing to hold any secrets from him.
His eyes skim the screen, his finger running over it to see every single one of Tripp’s messages. I know what he’s reading. I’ve read them a handful of times myself, trying to make sense of them.
Breaker’s eyes widen with anger and disbelief. “He’s kidding with this shit, right?”
With Tripp DuPont, wealth comes a sense of entitlement. He’s gotten away with plenty in his life. For the most part, Breaker is the same, but the difference between them is, Breaker doesn’t demand things and immediately expect them to be handed over to him.
The last text has me on edge. It’s why, when Breaker left me at my dorm last night, I wasn’t willing to admit I didn’t feel safe. Palmer is the only reason I slept. If she hadn’t been there, I don’t know if sleep would have ever found me.
“Are you worried?” He bends at his knees to come eye-to-eye with me. My hair is only a shield for a short amount of time. “Last night, when I left you there . . .”
“I wasn’t alone,” I clarify.
“But you thought you were going to be, and if I had known . . .”
“If you’d known he’d sent this text, you would’ve gone to defend my honor.”
“Damn fucking right I would, Delaney.” He spins on his heel, his voice raised and hands in his hair, tugging the ends in anger. I’ve delivered a dose of my reality. It’s hard to swallow. “Why didn’t you tell me he’s been texting you?”
“Well, I mean, can you see yourself right now? You’re practically foaming at the mouth.” I circle him and cup one side of his face, and he kisses my palm. “I don’t need your anger to get in the way of what we are doing.”
“I don’t even know what we’re doing,” Breaker says.
“Earning our freedom, once and for all.”
Chapter Nineteen
Breaker
“Hey.” Byron walks into the living room. The night sky is pitch black. The only light in the room is from the foyer. “You look nervous.”
He’s not wrong. I’m nervous as hell. I left Delaney upstairs to finish getting ready, and I’ve snapped at everyone else in the house, so they’re giving me plenty of space.
“What if this isn’t the right thing to do?” I ask, genuinely looking for his advice.
“The guy made you jump off the bridge you believed your mother killed herself on. I’m going to say, no matter what you do, it won’t be anywhere near as fucked up as that.” Byron slaps my shoulder as he passes me. “For what it’s worth, I think what you’re doing is brave.”
“I don’t feel brave.”
“Most heroes don’t.”
“I’m no one’s hero.”
“Tell that to Palmer. I’d bet she’d beg to differ.” Byron eyes me skeptically as if he can’t believe I’m saying what I am. “Not to mention, your incessant need to change Delaney’s world, so it’s happier and safer.”
“What are you trying to say?”
“That’s hero shit, bro,” Byron scoffs. “You swoop in when they need you because, at your core, that’s who you are. You may run with us, but you’re nothing like us, and thank fuck for that. The world doesn’t need more Mareks, Byrons, and Dixons. The world needs more Breakers.”
“We ready to go?” Delaney comes down the stairs, a leather jacket slung over her shoulder. That’s not what catches my eye, though. The way the low dip in the white tank top grazes against her skin as she moves, sets every part of me on fire. She pops up on her tiptoes and kisses me on the cheek, giving me a nice, but brief view down her top.
“No bra.” I grin, reaching a single finger down her cleavage. “Nice touch
.”
She runs her fingers over my brow line. “You look stressed.”
“As he should be,” Madison says, announcing her entrance. “Is this a good idea?”
“Calm down, Jailbait.” Byron leans against the doorway. His eyes take in Madison’s bare legs. “It’s a little chilly tonight. You may want to put pants on.”
“Aww. Are you worried about me, Byron?” She winks at him.
Byron pushes off the wall, pressing his chest into her back. Her eyes widen with surprise.
“You wish, Jailbait.” He lets the twisted nickname linger on his tongue longer than normal, which tells me whatever this is will be trouble.
Marek and Palmer join our little party. As we wait for Dixon and Reagan, silence takes over the space. Apprehension pulses around each of us. What if this isn’t the right move? Tripp DuPont is a couple of things, and sane isn’t at the top of the list. Especially not after I read the texts he’s sent Delaney.
There’s no lying. Tonight is as much for me as it is for Delaney and Madison. We each have something to prove, and we’ll take whatever measures we need to, if it means we accomplish it.
“Let’s go, boys.” Dixon walks into the room, excitement in his stride, circling his finger in the air to round us up.
“Ugh, excuse me.” Delaney arches a brow.
“Oh, sorry. Let’s go, boys and girls.” Dixon correcting himself for Delaney’s sake is top tier entertainment.
“I’ll meet you all there. Don’t need big brother seeing me with the enemy,” Madison announces. She reaches down and squeezes Delaney’s hand. It’s solidarity and understanding in one swift move.
We walk towards the door, but Byron goes the other way.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“I’m going to hang behind,” he answers, waving me off. “Go prove what they already know.”
A quick check over my shoulder tells me we’re alone. “What I have planned tonight, I need someone I can trust, and someone who can pull it off. I need you.”
“What exactly are we doing tonight?” He slides his hands into his pockets.
“Do you still have your black knife?” I nod, hoping he understands what I mean.
“Are we thinking Halloween, your sophomore year?” He walks to the coat closet, slides the door open, and ducks inside to grab the knife I could describe for a painting and not leave off any detail.
“That would be the one.” I watch his fingers brush against the handle, silently admiring the design carved into the metal. “You think you’re up for it?”
“Does she know what’s coming?” Byron asks.
“It’s probably best to ask for forgiveness, instead of permission.” I slap his shoulder and shove him towards the door.
“Oh, this is going to be fun.” There’s our Byron. We’ve been getting a water-downed version of Byron Decatur. I understand why. He’s watching his movement around Palmer, trying to keep their rocky ground steady.
We get out to Marek’s Escalade and open the back door to slide inside.
“Marek, before we roll, I need to talk to Palmer,” Byron says.
“We already know the plan, By,” Palmer says, twisting in the seat to look him in the eyes. “But I appreciate you wanting to run it by me.”
“Okay, then, I guess let’s go.” Byron shuts the door. Marek stares at him through the rearview mirror and grins.
Until recently, it’s always been the four of us causing mischief, ruling our piece of the world as creators of chaos. Now that Delaney, Palmer, and Reagan have joined our group, this somehow makes sense. They’re fighting the battle alongside us, forgiving us of our shortcomings, and more than making up for them.
“You good?” Delaney leans over, pressing her cheek into my shoulder.
“Are you?” I ask. “We’ve never done this with . . .”
“What he’s trying to say is it’s different for us,” Marek intervenes.
“We’ve been a part of your messes before. In fact, I’ve been the receiving party of it,” Palmer points out.
“This is completely different. You aren’t just going to be there. You’re participating. You need to ask yourself if you’re okay with that, because if you aren’t, then you have every right to bail the fuck out,” Byron explains.
Marek stops at the gate and rolls down the window to talk to the attendant at Hollow Hill.
“Do you think this will work?” Delaney asks me, straightening her spine and spinning to face me.
“I do,” I answer honestly.
“Then I’m in.” The confidence she shows in me is astounding.
“It’s that simple for you, huh?” My hand wraps around her neck, bringing her closer to me. My hand is a collar, guiding her where I need her. She swings one leg over my lap, straddling me.
“It’s that simple.”
With that kind of answer, I squeeze her neck a little tighter. She falls into me, pressing her lips into mine. The kiss is fevered and unmatched.
“Jesus Christ.” Byron’s voice breaks the little cloud of bliss we’ve created. Delaney crawls off my lap, wiping the corner of her mouth. “You two are worse than those two.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Delaney grins at me.
“He’s just grumpy because he hasn’t gotten any in a while. All that built-up cum is starting to directly affect his attitude,” Marek jokes, parking at the football field.
“Don’t worry about me. I’m sure my luck will turn around very soon.” Byron swings his arm over my shoulder. When I hear the low purr of engines, I press against his hold.
A caravan of luxury cars trails in one after the other. It’s us versus them, and they know it. Hollow Hill is known for their theatrics. Unlike them, we don’t need an audience. We tend to keep it a bit low-key.
Tripp climbs out of the driver’s seat of a matte black G-Wagon. His eyes immediately find Delaney across the parking lot. She’s a few steps away, her feet planted on the cement. His face morphs from zero emotion to a slimy, over-accentuated grin. He lifts his hand and wiggles his fingers in a wave.
“He’s fucking kidding, right?” Marek says, coming up next to me to shield Delaney.
“He said some things to her.” I glance at him.
“Let’s shut it down then. What do we have to lose?” He shrugs it off like there’s nothing at stake. For them, there isn’t.
If we are dealing with my father, then I have a lot to lose. Whatever decisions I make tonight may directly affect my sisters’ lives.
“I’ll wait for Madison out here.” Byron grins, toying with the blade in his hand.
“I know this doesn’t need to be said, but, Byron, don’t hurt that girl.” Palmer barges in between us. “I mean it.”
“I’m not going to,” Byron says. “Have a little faith.”
Is he kidding? Have a little faith?
“Let me make it easier for you.” Palmer squints, staring right in his eyes, as if she’d figure out the truth of the world if she allowed herself entry into his warped mind. “Nothing that requires hospitalization, Byron.” A slow smile spreads across her face, and she smacks him on the chest.
“That’s fair.” Byron rests against the passenger door of the Escalade. “Now, get in there.”
“You’re risking a lot here,” I say to Byron.
“If it’s important to you, then it’s worth it. Plus, I’m rich as fuck. What are they going to do, fire me?” He glances away, a happy, sinister grin on his face. “Teach him that even the softest of us aren’t meant to be messed with, Breaker.”
In our group of friends, I’m perceived as soft. That label is understandable. I refused to lay a hand on Palmer when the rest of them were so damn adamant it was necessary. I’m considerate, for those who deserve my consideration. The word soft isn’t an insult. Amongst them, I’m the one who keeps us level. I’m the cushion.
But not tonight.
Tonight, I’m the sledgehammer, and destruction is necessary.
&nbs
p; Delaney waits for me, her hand held out, ready to walk into the fire beside me.
“You ready for this?” I ask as we enter the corridor the players use to get onto the field. Delaney nods. Fear is scribbled over her face like tattoos, visible for me to admire. “I promise, nothing will happen to you.”
On the nearly pitch-black field, the crowd is gathered at the fifty-yard line. Delaney and I get closer and hear Marek’s thunderous voice, raising higher and higher.
“Don’t ever say her name again. Do you hear me, Tripp?”
“No one gives a fuck about your whore, Marek,” Tripp says, laughing while searching the crowd for validation.
Marek punches him straight across the jaw. Palmer grabs Marek and jerks him away.
“The only whore I know is your baby sister, Tripp. Heard she spread her legs pretty quick for my boy!” Marek shouts over Palmer’s head. He looks at me and grins. Nice. “Oh, shit, that’s right. You already know all about that, since you’re the piece of shit who spread the rumors all over both campuses after it happened.”
“That’s my sister you’re talking about,” Tripp says. I’d almost believe his plea, if I didn’t have sisters of my own. No good brother sits idly.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper to Delaney. She nods, already knowing what’s about to be said isn’t meant to hurt her in any way. “Your sister.” I tsk my tongue, entering the middle of the crowd, putting myself between Marek’s rabid teeth and Tripp’s khakis. “So sweet.” I lick my lips. “And you know, the crazy thing is I only fucked her because I knew how pissed off you’d be. To you, I’m trash.” I lean in, pressing into his space. “Want to hear something funny, though? I may be exactly what you think I am, but I’m the kind of trash you’re scared of.”
“There isn’t a single thing about you that intimidates me,” Tripp scoffs, pointing at me in some sort of incredible manner. He honestly believes what he’s saying.
“No.” I hold up my fingers. “Not even a little bit?” I lower my hand. “Because this trash stole your sister’s virginity and stole your girl.” The energy in the crowd shifts enough to feel it, oohing and awwing at Tripp’s back. “That last one, though? I think we can both agree she never belonged to you. You want to know why?”
