The car was silent between us when Bryce shut his door behind him.

Carlos and I weren't the quiet ones, it was the car, definitely the car.

He broke it when he said, hesitantly, "I'm sorry."

"For what?" I frowned.

"For calling her. It wouldn't have happened if…" If he hadn't called her.

"That's not true," I said quietly. "It would've happened anyway, but to someone else. Or to her…later."

"How do you know that?"

Because he did it to get at me. I couldn't tell Carlos that.

I shrugged. "Trust me. These types…they always find someone else."

Carlos didn't say anything as the motor hummed.

He was a good kid. I could see that. I leaned forward and said softly, "She really liked you. I could tell."

Carlos didn't say anything.

"It wasn't your fault. He did it. Not you. He did." Just like he was doing everything else. I told myself that when I walked to the house. It wasn't my fault. It wasn't my fault.

Corrigan had waited for me when I walked into the house. He let go the curtain and jumped off the couch. When I locked the door, he said quietly, "Just making sure, you know."

I shrugged, but the nonchalance wouldn't set with me. It meant more than I could ever fathom for that little action.

He hugged me tightly and smoothed a hand down my hair.

Neither of us said a word and Corrigan pressed a quick kiss to my forehead before he darted up the stairs to his room.

I headed downstairs.

Bryce wasn't in the hallway or in my room. I didn't think about it and stripped down to my underwear and tank top. When I heard the bathroom door open, I slid out and met Bryce in the hallway.

We both stopped, stared at each other, and I moved around to the bathroom.

Bryce let me go.

When I came back, his door was shut and the lights were off. I stood there from indecision and finally just went to my own room. I crawled underneath the covers and flipped to my side.

To my surprise…the first nightmare ripped through me at breakneck speed. When I gasped awake, my heart pounding, I looked at the clock and saw I'd been asleep for two hours. I shook my head weakly, trying to clear all thoughts, but the shiver still ran down my spine. The goose bumps on my arms weren't from the cold. I didn't think about it. I didn't plan it—nothing. I just got out of bed and crawled into Bryce's.

I slipped underneath his bedcovers and heard his deep breaths. He was still asleep.

I scooted closer and nuzzled into his side, needing his warmth.

"Hey," he murmured, tiredly, as he wrapped an arm around my waist. Bryce nearly pulled me over his body then. He nuzzled against my neck and promptly fell back asleep.

That's when I closed my eyes and I welcomed the fog that settled on my mind.

The next time I woke, someone pounced on me. It wasn't Bryce. I opened my groggy eyes to see Corrigan beaming back at me. He laid down on me with his clothes, my clothes, and the blankets between us.

He rested his chin on top of his clasped hands, right on my chest and smiled.

"Go away," I grumbled and tried to roll out from underneath him.

Corrigan countered my move and merely spread his legs, entrapping me within his hold.

"Corrigan." I yawned as I tried to wrestle my arms out from underneath the blanket. I was paralyzed and gave up. Corrigan's weight held me captive.

To my surprise, Bryce moved awake beside me. He yawned as he placed one hand on Corrigan's shoulder and shoved him off.

"Get off," he mumbled and tucked me underneath his body. He placed a protective arm and leg over me as he glared at Corrigan on the floor.

"Morning, guys," Corrigan said cheerfully and he threw himself on top of us again.

"You are too damn cheerful," I complained and nestled against Bryce's chest.

"Get lost, man," Bryce scowled, but he bit back a grin. The effect was gone.

"Do you guys ever do it doggie-style?" Corrigan asked.

And I came awake. "Get out of here!" I shoved out from underneath Bryce and tucked my body to throw Corrigan to the floor.

Corrigan laughed, "Thought that'd wake you up." He jumped to his feet and exclaimed, "Let's go. Come on. Morning's a-wasting."

Bryce cursed and grumbled as he sat up against the headboard, "I forgot you were a morning person."

I rolled back underneath the blankets and glared.

"I feel very intimate with you guys," Corrigan remarked and flung himself back on the bed. He squeezed into the middle and glanced at us both. "Is this how it's like when you two do your thing? I feel like I'm a part of something. I think my life has been changed forever. I'm going to marry the next girl I bang. I swear it. I want to feel this intimacy."

"Shut up," I growled.

Bryce didn't say anything, he just flipped and rolled Corrigan under him. As the two started wrestling, I went in search for the bathroom. The two were still going at it when I emerged so I headed upstairs to the kitchen.

Katrice was cleaning dishes and said brightly, "Oh! There you are. I'm just finishing up here. Corrigan told me that you like coffee. Would you like a cup? I know that Harve said you seemed to enjoy it yesterday."

"Thanks, Mrs. Raimler."

"Oh. Please," she huffed and poured a cup for me. Setting it on the countertop, she reflected, "You're doing me such a favor, honey."

Huh? "What do you mean?"

"Well," she blinked. "I get to see Corrigan around the house. He's usually out of the house after he's grabbed a quick bite to eat. And heavens know when he gets home at night. He's always gone spending time with his friends. You know, he really adores you and Bryce. He talks about you guys all the time."

I didn't know what to say.

"You two are such a good influence on him."

My mouth dropped, "Huh?"

"You are. Both of you just calm him down. Corrigan used to get so riled up in school. We got called so much because he fought all the time. Harve and I noticed a change in our Corrigan when he started talking about Bryce and Sheldon. The calls stopped after that."

"I think that was around the time of puberty," I said dryly. "Corrigan noticed girls."

"The Harve and I thought about that too. We thought that was the change in him, but Stephen told us about him one time. He saw his older brother at the mall with you two and it was a new Corrigan."

Who would've thought it? I was a good influence. I wasn't buying it.

Katrice busied herself cleaning the counter as she muttered, "At least we don't get calls from the police anymore. That was stressful. We got calls almost once a month, sometimes two times. If we only get one a year now, we're grateful."

Corrigan in jail? Never.

Just then Corrigan sprinted up the stairs, breathless.

"Hey, mom," he greeted and stopped abruptly at my chair.

I noticed two red gashes on his chin and saw another long red scrape that wrapped around his neck. Rug burn.

"Bryce beat you, didn't he?" I laughed.

Corrigan flushed. "He did not. It was mutual."

"Oh, honey." Katrice rolled her eyes to the heavens above and sighed, "You're always getting yourself into these scrapes. We've talked about this. You don't always have to be the alpha male. Sometimes, it's okay to be the beta. You actually have more personality—"

"Mom!" Corrigan interrupted. "We're not talking about this."

"Honey. You have my family's wild side in you. I have atoned for this. Really. I'm to blame, but I've seen your friend, Bryce. He is not a beta male. And you grew up being comfortable as the alpha male in this household. I know that sometimes you're going to rebel, but I really think you'll benefit in the long run when you're flexible and can adapt to being the beta or the alpha male."

"Mother," he hissed through clenched teeth.

I bit my lip. A laugh would not be appropriate, but…I couldn't hold back.

"Shut up."

"Oh my god." I normally hated giggling, but wow.

"See." Katrice patted her son's tense arm. "Sheldon agrees with me."

"Mom." Corrigan shook his head, glaring. "She's laughing at me. You humiliated me in front of my best friend."

"She's not laughing at you. I'm sure Sheldon's seen Bryce without a shirt. She probably agrees with me."

I lost it.

"Get out," Corrigan said through gritted teeth. "Get out while you can."

I got out and moved downstairs just in time to see Bryce leave the bathroom without a shirt.

I started laughing again.

"What's with you?" Bryce asked as I walked in front of him and sat on his bed. I laid down as he started dressing.

"Corrigan's mom is hilarious."

"Really?" Surprise flashed in his eyes. "I always thought she was a little weird."

"Oh, she is. But she's hilarious. She just commended me for being a 'good' influence on her son and she's probably still lecturing him how being a beta male is beneficial."

"What?" Bryce stopped and looked at me, dumbfounded.

"Never mind." Still chuckling, I stretched out on his bed.

I didn't see any similar marks on Bryce like Corrigan's carpet burn. He really was magnificent and the Mohawk accentuated his presence.

"We have to get all of our cars today," Bryce mumbled as he looked for his shirt.

I groaned, "Can we not? Can we stay here? Have Katrice be our mother and forget all about high school?"

Bryce sat on the bed as he pulled a shirt over his head. As he poked his head through the opening, he replied, "That'd be awesome, but my mom would have a fit. I'm supposed to make the money—" He bit off the next word.

I sat up. "What are you talking about? Why do you have to make the money?"

Bryce just sighed.

"Bryce," I said sharply. "You're going to college…that's why you stopped playing soccer. They don't want you to play. Are you supposed to get a job now?"

"Let's go. I think Corrigan said something about waking up Stephen."

"No." I scrambled off the bed and stood in front of the door.

Bryce was avoiding me. He was avoiding my questions and it pissed me off. I may not like to talk about stuff, but I wanted to talk about this—I really wanted to talk about this.

"What is going on?"

"You're not my girlfriend. I don't have to tell you a thing." Bryce cursed and shoved past me.

Stunned, I stood there. What had just happened?

Chapter 17

I was greeted with blatant stares as I entered the hallways on Monday. I didn't care as I made my way to first period. Mr. Aldross sat at his desk as he waited for everyone to sit and the first bell rang. After it did, he didn't write his twenty questions on the board. Instead , the speakers crackled as an announcement was given to us.

"At this hour, please place all your books in your lockers and attend the auditorium."

I didn't have to hear the sudden whispers to know what everyone thought. This was the announcement about Leisha's death.

"Sheldon," Mr. Aldross spoke up. "Can you wait a moment please?"

I nodded, struck that he'd spoken my first name. Mr. Aldross only greeted me as 'Miss Jeneve.'

As everyone left and the door closed on the last gawker, Mr. Aldross stood up and sat at a table nearest mine.

"I'm sorry, Sheldon. I wanted to let you know that. I was told that you and Mr. Scout were the ones who found her. That must be…difficult, at the least." He cleared his throat. "Have you thought about speaking to Miss Connors? I'm sure she'd be an excellent listener if there were things you needed to get off of your chest."

I nodded and replied, "The cops said that we could do a group thing. Me, Bryce, and Corrigan."

"Of course. If that would be helpful, it might be the best venue for you." He nodded again and stood. "Well, shall we go?"

The teacher had given his sincerest condolences. Now that his obligatory support had been given, onto the rest of the day's agenda.

As we walked through the hallways, there was an overflow of students in the hallway. The auditorium's door weren't big enough for the sudden influx of students and the filtering slowed the onslaught.

Corrigan straightened from my locker as Mr. Aldross and I turned the corner.

Mr. Aldross gave us both a perfunctory nod as he passed by us with no comment or reproach.

"That was weird," Corrigan muttered, still watching the teacher. "I'm used to getting scolded by that dude."

I kicked my locker and deposited my books inside.

"Hey, so, the cops are here."

"What cops?"

"The ones for your protection. Remember?"

No. I'd forgotten.

"Oh." I glanced around. "Where's Bryce?" After a tense afternoon spent together, he'd gone home Sunday evening to face AnnaBelle's wrath. I was a little concerned if he'd been eaten alive.

Corrigan shrugged and remarked, "Can we skip this lame thing? All it's going to be about is the 'offer of counseling services. Everyone shouldn't walk alone at night. Use your buddy-system. And the faculty and staff wish to extend their greatest condolescences to everyone who has been touched by the recent tragic loss.'"

His words were meant for mockery, but they sounded bitter.

"Where's Bryce?"

"Mama dearest probably locked him in the dungeon." Corrigan shrugged carelessly. I'd yet to meet a fan of AnnaBelle Scout who wasn't her seven-year old daughter.

Just then, Bryce rounded the corner and said as a greeting, "The cops are parked across the street. They're watching your car, Sheldon."

I already felt protected. Not really, but I was a little relieved. Bryce didn't seem as tense as yesterday.

"Did your mom freak last night?" Corrigan asked Bryce.

A raised eyebrow was his response and Corrigan chuckled, "She's so predictable."

Bryce asked me, "Did you sleep?"

"On and off," I said dully and a yawn escaped me. I'd stayed at Corrigan's, but Bryce hadn't been there to help me sleep. I knew another sleepless night would make my pride too desperate and I'd beg for his company.

"Students," Mr. Adlross boomed down the hallway. "We're starting and you are not inside."

There were other lingering students, but he wasn't talking to them. Mr. Aldross looked straight at us as he gestured towards the auditorium doors.

"Today, Mr. Raimler, Mr. Scout, and Miss Jeneve."

The other students breathed in relief. They'd escaped Mr. Aldross' wrath.

"Whatever," Corrigan muttered as he stood and led our slow arrival past Mr. Aldross' disapproval.

A few seats were empty, but Corrigan led us towards the back sections and jerked his head at a few students. They scrambled and the three of us sat in the back row that was shadowed from the overhanging seats upstairs.

As we all waited for someone to approach the podium on the stage, Corrigan tapped his foot against the seat's backrest in front of him. It earned him an irritated glare from a junior girl that immediately turned into a self-conscious smile. Corrigan's eyes lit up and he leaned forward for some time-consuming flirting.

I slumped in my seat and closed my eyes until I felt Bryce's fingers slide onto my thigh.

I looked up and saw a faint grin as he stared back. He didn't look like he fared the night any better so I sat up and slid a hand around his neck. He leaned down and met my waiting lips. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the warmth as Bryce kissed me. It felt satisfying and pleasurable against a night of no sleep. His kisses pushed the coldness of reality away and I relaxed against him when he shifted me to his lap.

The microphone crackled as it was moved too close to a body and Principal Gregory spoke clearly and briskly, "When Miss Jeneve and Mr. Scout finish their morning 'hellos' we will resume with the agenda for this emergency convention."

Laughter smattered across the auditorium, but Bryce took his time finishing our kiss before he lazily looked up and called out, "We're good. Thanks."

Principal Gregory coughed in disapproval and I slid off Bryce's lap.

"Thank you, Miss Jeneve, for putting our good tax payers' money to use. Chairs are meant to be sat upon."

"They're not as comfortable," I replied and I saw Principal Gregory hide a grin while the students broke out in laughter.

Principal Gregory nodded, "Thank you for pointing that out, Miss Jeneve, but that is not why we all have come together in this auditorium."

With those words, I was forgotten.

Principal Gregory looked over the auditorium and took a deep breath. It changed the atmosphere and everyone quieted. We all just waited.

"I am sure, by now, that everyone has heard the recent events that occurred over the weekend. Some schools would not openly address the tragic loss that we have experienced from the death of Leisha Summers, but I disagree. I have invited the local Sheriff to address some questions we all may be feeling and Miss Connors will have her own say about how to handle some of those emotions that you might be experiencing. After school, we will adjourn our last period thirty minutes earlier where a silent candle vigil will take place in the parking lot in memory of Leisha Summers." He nodded once and said, "With that—Sheriff Adley."

Sheriff Adley wasn't there to speak about Leisha's murder. He was there to address further safety in the community. He repeated most of what Corrigan had mocked, but without the buddy system. He said to be smart when leaving your home at night. Check in when you leave and always give an estimated time when you're to arrive and where. Make sure to check in again after you've arrived. Pepper spray is a weapon of choice among many police officers, its use wasn't deadly and still effective. Don't walk in any area with poor lighting. Park your vehicle under streetlights. Watch over your shoulder and if you feel someone is following, don't be afraid to call 911.

After he opened the forum for questions, he gave no comment on all the questions that were about Leisha. He only replied that his staff and deputies were pursing all avenues and hope to make an arrest in the near future.

Disappointment transcended the auditorium, but it was understood.

Miss Connors took the podium next and spoke about how to handle grief.

I tuned her out and left through the back door.

Mr. Sayword wasn't surprised when he saw my entrance in the art room.

The room was empty except for the two of us and he nodded in sympathy, "I'm sorry, Sheldon. I heard that you found your friend."

I shrugged and moved into the darkroom.

It didn't matter that it wasn't my film that I developed. My hands needed to be busy and moving.

After the second bell rang, I heard the murmur of voices on the other side of the door.

I sighed, replaced the camera I'd been holding, and left. Students were lingering around the tables.

I plopped on the nearest empty one and remained there, content to be alone when I heard a soft voice beside me, "Hey." She was teeny tiny with soft golden hair that surrounded a pointed nose. Her eyes consumed too much of her face. And she had the barest hint of lips I'd ever seen.

I studied her a moment, searched my database, and then said abruptly, "I have no idea who you are."

She flushed and hugged her books tighter to her chest. "I'm Grace Barton."

"You're Mena's new friend," I announced as comprehension flooded me.

Caution flashed over her features again and I got the distinct impression that a burst of wind could've knocked her over. "Yeah," She sighed and moved closer. "That's why I came over here."

"What do you want?" I asked flatly after she'd taken a few breaths for bravery.

She jumped slightly at my question, but rolled her eyes in self-condemnation. "I'm here because Mena's really hurt by what you did."

"I didn't do anything to her."

"She said that you're not friends with her because Bryce and Corrigan don't like her."

I laughed and remarked dryly, "She's gotta be pretty stupid to screw that up. Mena's hot. Corrigan always likes hot girls, but if she did something to piss him off—then that's on her, not me. I don't tell them who to like and who not to like."

Grace looked like she was about to fall over again.

"And you didn't help the situation," I said flatly.

Grace frowned and asked, timidly, "What do you mean?"

"You're a social loser. If you want Mena to be liked by me, Corrigan, and Bryce—she shouldn't be hanging out with people like you and your brother. Whoever invited her to your party saw that she'd already been outcasted. Mena could've fought it and been fine, but you guys sent her the invitation because you saw someone 'cool' who could be in your crowd."

Grace gasped and swayed on her feet.

I stood up. "Look, I'm not saying this to be mean. I'm just saying it because it's true. And I'm not going to be duped into feeling guilty that Mena has some hurt feelings. She knows the deal. If she wants back in, she's gotta earn that respect. The rules apply to everyone."

"Sheldon," Mr. Sayword spoke up, across the classroom.

I turned and saw Corrigan at the door, watching me.

"Yeah?" I asked. I saw a note in Mr. Sayword's hand.

"You're wanted in the counselor's office."

My eyes caught and held Corrigan's. We both thought the same thing, group therapy time.

"Fine," I muttered and left the room. Corrigan fell in step beside me when he asked, "What was that about in there?"

"Just telling a social loser that she's a social loser." I remarked.

Three other students were there and we saw Bryce lounging against the wall. His eyes sharpened when he saw us and he pushed off from the wall. Corrigan booted the students off the couch and we sat down instead. Bryce leaned on the armrest near me until Miss Connors stuck her head out and gestured for all three of us.

"Come on back, guys." She said, friendly.

She'd set up three plush chairs around her office and I saw, surprised, that it was cleaner than my last visit. Miss Connors looked tired, but professional with her outfit spot-clean and pristine.

She looked like a therapist.

"So," she breathed out and sent another warm smile at us. At me. "How are you guys doing?"

Corrigan leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees as he remarked, "I'm having a hard time handling all the emotional distress that my two best friends have recently undertaken due to the traumatic loss that they witnessed."

Bryce and I both laughed.

A grin slipped past Corrigan's lips, but he added as he attempted to sound vulnerable, "I feel left out because I wasn't there when they found her body, but I realized over the weekend that this was a pattern that's been constructed since Bryce and Sheldon started sleeping together. Isn't there a term for that? Peer isolation?"

I fought a grin, but Miss Connors rolled with it. She nodded and asked, "And when did that start?"

Bryce spoke this time, "First time we screwed was in freshman."

"I remember." Corrigan nodded. "It was that party when Trevor Bently thought he could score with Sheldon and you told him that she'd be busy with you instead."

Bryce grinned. "And he punched me, hit like a girl."

There had been no Trevor Bently, punching, or party when Bryce and I had first slept together. And that's why I loved my two best friends so much. They were lying for me. She knew it. And they continued to lie.

Miss Connors shifted in her seat and stared at me. "I'm glad that you think this is a joke because I'm sure your friend would've thought the same about you. Wait—no, she wouldn't have. Your friend probably would've cried if it had been you instead of her. How do you feel about that, Sheldon?"

Bryce commented, "You're a great counselor. You make people feel like shit."

"No doubt," Corrigan added his two cents.

"And when the two of you stop talking for Sheldon, maybe we can actually get somewhere instead of all three of you jerking my chain," Miss Connors said briskly. "Sheldon, I asked you a question. How do you think Leisha would've reacted if your places were switched?"

Bryce opened his mouth again, but Miss Connors cut him off. "I want to hear Sheldon's voice. She's got one."

He closed his mouth and leaned back.

I leaned forward and said simply, "The difference between Leisha and me is that she was a decent person. I'm not."

Miss Connors was cool when she asked, "So is this your martyr bit? Am I suppose to tell you how great and wonderful you are, how much potential you have? I've already said that. If you choose to listen or believe me, then that's on you. It's your life at the end of the day. You're the one who falls asleep at night, but you still haven't answered my question. How do you think Leisha would've reacted?"

"I can't answer that because I'm not Leisha."

"You were friends. That's what everyone says. It's funny that I never saw the two of you converse in the hallways. I usually notice that, but everyone has told me that you guys were friends with her."

I leaned back and said coolly, "I considered her a friend, yes. Not best friends, but I liked her."

"Enough to have a guy she liked call her. Right? Carlos said that you were the one who suggested that he should call her. You were looking out for a friend, weren't you?"

"What?" I countered. "Does that make me a decent person now?"

"No," Miss Connors clipped out. "One act of decency just shows that there is decency inside, but it doesn't make a person decent. No, but that wasn't your question was it? Your real question is if I think you're a decent person, right?"

Bryce remarked, seemingly casual, "Why don't you back off of her?" He looked bored, but everyone in the room knew he wasn't.

"And you come stepping to the plate," Miss Connors stated. She waved a finger to each of us, "Is that what you do? You step up and shield Sheldon when you think she can't handle anymore?"

Bryce leaned forward. "Why don't you stop trying to classify us as awful people and do some counseling? That's what you are, aren't you?"

"I think my question to Sheldon was if she wondered if I wondered if she was a decent person. An 'awful person' never came into the conversation."

"What's your point?" Bryce demanded as he leaned back, back in cool control.

Miss Connors watched him and shook her head as a grin tugged at her lips. "Bryce Scout, you'd be surprised how many times I hear your name in this office. Little girls who think they're in love. Some just want to lose a few more pounds so you'd notice them. Some try to convince themselves that you'll love them if they sleep with you or sleep with your friends. And then there's the scorned ones. The ones who finally realize that you don't love them and you'll never love them. Those are the ones that break my heart because they think they've lost everything." She shook her head, astounded. "How do you do that, Bryce Scout? How do you get everyone to want you so bad and they still want you even when you've tossed them out?"

Bryce locked eyes with her and neither budged.

I sighed and stated, "I know what you're doing."

"Hold on, Sheldon. I'm talking with Bryce Scout now."

I ignored her. "You're trying to understand us so you're going after all of us. You went after me, Bryce, and Corrigan's next. You want to know who speaks up for who because you want to understand us."

She ignored me in return and murmured, "So, Bryce Scout, how does it feel to have Sheldon think you can't handle anymore? She just stepped up to save you, like you did for her."

"I'm bored," Corrigan proclaimed.

A smile came to Miss Connors as she reflected, "And your best friend just threw in his bit. He's trying to save you too."

"Maybe they're trying to save you," Bryce said softly.

"Oh yes," Miss Connors breathed in appreciation. "I get why all the girls pander for you so much. You've got this cool arrogance that make them flock to you. It's interesting, though, because everyone in this room knows that the one girl you love, you can't get."

She looked at me without flinching, "So what's it about you, Sheldon? What've you got that all the other girls don't? And Corrigan? How do you feel on the outskirts as you mentioned before? You've got two best friends who circle around each other, sleep with each other, and there's you."

"This is a waste of time." Bryce yawned, pointedly. "You're just attacking us. Where's the sympathy? We found a dead body Friday night. I thought this was about that."

Miss Connors looked at him steadily and replied, "Really? You really want this session to be about that when the three of you came in here and gave a dog and pony show for me? Because all four of us know that when you walked in here, there was nothing I could do to hear the truth from the three of you. How it really feels to know someone that died, to know that you were the ones who found her first, to see a dead body, and to know that she was killed by the same pervert who's sending sick twisted notes to Sheldon." She waved a finger around the room. "All four of us know that went on and yet, the three of you band so tight together, no one can get in. I knew no matter how much education I have behind my belt, the three of you would never let a stranger into that bond."

Bryce fell silent.

Corrigan fell silent.

So did Miss Connors.

So I spoke up, "It's not you, Miss Connors. I don't talk to them either."

She was surprised. I saw a brief flash in her eyes, but Miss Connors recovered instantly and asked, "Have you ever?"

"What?"

"Have you ever talked to someone?"

I had. I had talked to my parents. To my father once.

Corrigan and Bryce didn't say anything, but I knew they both thought the same thing.

My parents were in the room, even though they were across the ocean.

I relented, "My parents."

"And they left, didn't they?" Miss Connors asked, nonplussed. She leaned forward. "For the record, Sheldon, I think you have truly awful parents. They left their child when it was legal to leave their child. I can't do a damn thing about that and they're very self-absorbed when it comes to their only daughter who has every right to be as bitter and angry as you are. I get why you don't respect me. I really do. I wouldn't either if I had a mother like yours. But I want to make one thing very clear—these two guys will not leave you if you talk to them."

She leaned back again and added, "I've talked to a lot of students and the three of you are always mentioned as the top dogs in this school. I'll be honest, until the last few days, I would've thought the worst about you two, Bryce and Corrigan. But I've also heard some great things about you guys. You protect Sheldon. The two of you are incredibly loyal to your friends. So I'll just say, and this is for you Sheldon, that these two best friends you have will not leave you if you talk to them. It'll draw them closer to you. You will not break down if you cry about Leisha. And that's it for today. I want all three of you back in here in two days. Have a good day and don't skip any classes."

Miss Connors dismissed us and we left, slower than when we'd entered.

Chapter 18

After our session with Miss Connor, neither of us wanted to be in school. After we saw the majority of teachers wandering around, comforting students, and only a handful of students were actually attending classes—Corrigan had bailed. Bryce and I were gone after that.

And now I tilted my head back as Bryce's lips settled on my neck where he sucked, licked, and generally made me melt. One of his hands held my hip while the other slid up and down my thigh in a slow caress. His legs rested on the bed to my side, but the rest of his body lightly rested over me. He traveled up my jaw and found my lips again. I gasped as his fingers worked the inside of my jeans and his tongue swept inside.

We'd taken our time, but twenty minutes of foreplay stretched our limit and Bryce abruptly sat up and quickly rid himself of a shirt. He started on his jeans when I unzipped my own and shimmied out of them. Shirt and bra had already been stripped away, but when my fingers found the straps of my thong, Bryce groaned and stopped me. His hands left his pants and he bent to kiss my hip, just above my thong.

"Bryce," I moaned, but could only lay there, helpless, against the onslaught of pleasure.

He slipped the thong off and five minutes later, I shoved him away and desperately reached for his pants.

Bryce kicked them off and fell on top of me as he reached for my nightstand.

His body froze as he reached inside and I blinked in confusion, still dazed from lust, when he straightened away from me and sat back.

"What are you doing?" I cried out and moved to him.

Bryce kept me off and raised his head.

"Oh."

He held my dad's Colt.45 in his hand.

"What the hell is this?"

Busted. I sighed and said flatly, "What do you expect? My house was broken into and I have some freak sending me twisted letters. Not to mention…Leisha."

"Jeez," Bryce breathed out and looked from me to the gun and back again. He cursed softly underneath his breath and laid down next to me. He cursed again. "You're not staying here anymore. Not alone," he declared.

I scoffed, "And what? You're going to stay every night? Keep lying to AnnaBelle?"

He shrugged, "If I have to."

"I can stay at Corr—"

"No," Bryce interrupted me coldly. "I'm not okay with that."

I quieted and moved to lay beside on him, on my side. I moved one hand to his chest and I swept it softly up and down in a caress.

He sighed again. "This is…" Screwed up.

"I know," I muttered. "Believe me. I know."

Bryce took a breath and sat up. He leaned over me again as he replaced the Colt in my nightstand. I moved to my back and Bryce stayed above me, staring at me.

"What?"

He raised a hand to cup the side of my face and shook his head, somber.

"What?" I asked again.

"Nothing," he whispered and bent for my lips again.

I grinned against them and tugged him to fall on top of me.

He did and the next time he reached for a condom, he actually pulled one out.

We spent the rest of the morning and afternoon in bed, just like we tried the week before. Bryce wanted to watch some ESPN after we'd retired from the shower and I was okay with that. My legs felt a little wobbly from lack of food and the continuous onslaught of gasping, clenching, and groaning.

I was in the kitchen when I heard the front door open. Dressed in a pair of scrub pants and a skimpy white tank-top that didn't cover anything, I grasped a butcher knife for protection as I tiptoed around the doorway and waited.

The person wasn't alone and our coat closet was opened. I heard the sound of metal hangers and knew they shuffled through the coats so I tiptoed around the dining room table and into the back hallway that had saved my life before. I circled around into the back sitting room and crept to the end of the main floor hallway where a second stairway had been built, but rarely used.

I hurried to my bedroom and it only took one look for Bryce to scramble out of bed. He put on a pair of jeans, moved in front of me and grasped the butcher knife instead. When I moved to the nightstand, he caught my hand and shook his head.

I was too scared to argue and I trusted him.

I felt a slight bulge in his pocket and recognized the feel of his phone. I turned back and grabbed my own as well as a set of keys. At the door, Bryce led the way first and we moved to the second stairs, but I shook my head and pointed towards my parent's bedroom.

Bryce frowned, but he followed me through their room and neither of us stopped short at the destruction I'd overhauled before. We moved to the back patio and just as the door clicked shut behind us, the bedroom door was swept open and we both heard a short scream of horror, "Oh my god!"

I tensed, but threw my leg over the balcony and grasped the window's ledge from the bottom bathroom. Bryce and I climbed our way to the ground and sprinted for Bryce's car. Once we got inside, he reversed and grasped his phone in the other hand. When his finger cleared the nine and moved to the one, I grabbed it and said sharply, "No."

"What? Why not?"

"Those weren't burglars or whoever from before," I sighed wearily and my head hit the seat's headrest.

"Who was that then?"

"My mother," I said weakly.

Bryce didn't say anything, but he glanced at me sharply.

I sighed, "I recognized her voice. That was my mother."

Bryce braked quickly and turned the car around.

"What are you doing?"

"You're going back to talk to her and tell her what's going on. That's what we're doing," Bryce said harshly, his jaw clenched.

"No. Please. I can't see her now. I just—I can't. Not yet." I needed time to regroup. I needed time to…figure out what I even wanted to say to my mother.

He looked over my clothes and asked with a smirk, "Do you have some extra clothes at school?"

"No." The ones I did have were dirty. I used my second set when I'd met Mena for the first time.

Bryce twisted into his backseat and came back with a hooded sweatshirt in hand.

"You can wear this," he said simply. "Sure you don't want to go back to your house?"

"I have clothes at Corrigan's house."

So we went there and we weren't the only ones.

In the basement, we were met with a flushed and shirtless Corrigan. He looked like he'd just ran his hands through his hair because it stood straight up and his jeans were unbuttoned with the zipper halfway pulled up.

Bryce smiled and asked, "You found Logan."

Corrigan cracked a grin and said, "I found Logan so scram. I've only got another hour before Stephen gets home."

I bypassed them and changed into a different set of clothes. Now dressed in jeans and an added bra with a green top, I moved back to the stairway and found Bryce sitting, waiting for me.

No Corrigan.

Just then we heard a moan from a closed door and I rolled my eyes. "Can we please leave?"

"Yes, please." Bryce sighed and stood up.

Back in the car, he didn't move to start the engine, but said instead, "You have to go and see her. You know that, right?"

I did, but… "Fine," I surrendered.

Bryce reversed again and we drove back. We were met with flashing headlights from two police cruisers that were parked where we'd vacated. As we got out of the car, I recognized Officer Sheila on the front porch, talking with my mother and a notepad in hand. Her partner stood right behind her and another man stood behind my mother.

Or a boy, actually. He looked early twenties and he could've been a personal trainer from the sheer white shirt that clung to him. Tight trendy jeans rested over a pair of beaded flip-flops. His hair looked almost wet from the overload of hair gel, which said a lot when I saw it from a distance.

And my mom.

The knot of dread and nervousness exploded inside of me.

My mom looked good, but she always looked good. Corrigan had tried his hand multiple times with my mom. She flirted, loved the attention, but—thank god—she'd never accepted his offers.

Her blonde hair was swept in a diamond-studded hair clip. Her long curls cascaded to frame her heart-shaped face. She matched her boy toy with a long white sweater wrapped around her that was tied with a sash. Her tailored jeans peeked underneath and instead of beaded flip flops, she wore diamond-studded high heels. The diamonds matched the ones that circled her neck and hung from her ears.

I didn't feel the hand that Bryce placed in the small of my back as he guided me to the front porch.

Sheila skimmed over my pale features and glanced at Bryce behind me as my mother squealed, "Sheldon!"

She swept me against her chest and patted my hair delicately. "I've missed you so much, honey!"

"Really," I said dryly.

"Oh my gosh, honey. I had no idea. Are you okay? Our house was broken into, can you believe it? Officer Padley told me that this was the second time and you were here during the first. I can't believe it. My room was destroyed. All my valuables and jewels are all gone. I can't believe it."

I pulled away and saw the wry look in Sheila's eyes before I said firmly, "The men who broke in didn't do that to your stuff, mom. I did."

My mom had been standing in front of me for five minutes now, but at my words—I finally saw my mom.

A flicker of rage flashed in her eyes, but it was gone instantly.

"You did what?" Her comforting hand turned into a cold grasp.

"You heard me," I clipped out.

I felt Bryce shift closer, just one step, behind me.

Sheila coughed and asked, "Could I have a word in private with your daughter, Ms. Jeneve?"

"It's Carlton now," Sharon Jeneve said coldly as her eyes swept over Sheila, to Bryce, and settled on me.

I bit back a grimace.

"Of course, Ms. Carlton."

My mother's back straightened and she faced Sheila squarely. "I'd like a full list of everything my daughter damaged and everything the burglars damaged. I have a right to my own property."

"Well, with all due respect, Ms. Carlton," Sheila said softly. "You have a right to parent your daughter, but I've yet to see any of that happen."

My mother didn't gasp. She didn't curse. She just heard it, understood it, and stored the snub away until it would come back out to bite Sheila in the behind.

Sheila saw that too, but she finished, "We'll get the list to you in due time. Until then, my officers and colleagues have done all the police business that's to be done here." She signaled the deputies to leave and quickly both police cruisers had left.

"Sheldon," Sheila murmured with a gesture of her head. "Can I have a word?"

Sharon Jeneve-Carlton reached for her boy toy's hand and they both moved inside without another word.

When the door clicked shut, Sheila exhaled a deep breath, "That's some mother for you. I'll give you that."

I waited.

Bryce leaned on the porch's banister behind me.

"I don't have jurisdiction to inform your mother of everything that's gone on with my investigation. However, I strongly encourage you to be completely upfront with your mother."

"Why?" I bit out. "She'll just leave. She'll do that anyway."

"Maybe your mother would take you with her."

"I'm not going," I said firmly. I would not leave Bryce or Corrigan. Fat chance.

She shook her head and glanced to Bryce. She spoke clearly, "I didn't like you at first look and I don't like you now, but this girl cares about you so do right by her. Make her tell her mother what's going on."

Bryce didn't react or comment.

Sheila didn't expect it. She shook her head and left the porch to where her partner waited in their own car.

As they left, Corrigan's car screeched to a halt in the driveway.

He wasn't alone.

Bryce snorted in laughter as we saw Corrigan leap out of the car and jog over to us. Logan followed at a more sedate pace, opening and closing her own door without assistance.

"Hey, man. Wasn't that…what's her face?"

"Yeah," I said dully and skimmed over Logan's tight features. She looked like she'd been thoroughly screwed over.

"So…," Corrigan murmured as he leaned beside Bryce against the banister, "What's going on?"

I sighed and leaned on his other side. I surrendered my defeat, "My mother's home."

Corrigan choked in surprise, "What?"
Logan's eyes went wide.

Bryce remained unmoving.

"Mama Jeneve is home!?" Corrigan jumped back up. "Sweet!"

"And she's brought her boy toy with her."

Corrigan barked out a laugh. "That's awesome. I'm gonna go say hi."

Logan stayed behind and leaned, awkwardly, against the house.

I told her, a dull anger, "He doesn't love you. I don't get why you jump in his bed when he whistles. It's pathetic."

Logan gulped, but murmured, hesitatingly, "I thought you were going to be nice. Corrigan said you'd be nice."

Bryce watched.

"He lied," I laughed. "Corrigan is just another guy. They always lie to get what they want. Guess what? You were dropped before and he's going to drop you again. I don't understand why you guys keep signing up for the same humiliation." And then I delivered the most embarrassing, "He's inside hitting on my mother."

Logan glanced at me, but quickly looked away when she whispered, "I think that says more about you than me."

Bryce coughed to cover a laugh.

I seethed, "He picked you up at a fast food joint. We'd just bailed him out of jail and he got to order his food and sex for home. You let him do that. You guys always let him do that."

"Then why are you friends with him?" Logan asked quietly.

"Because he calls me in the morning," I said sweetly and left with my shoulders high. Strong.

I shook my head in disgust as I walked through the front door and heard my mother's flirtatious shriek of laughter. They were in the kitchen and Boy Toy was glowering from a seat at the kitchen table.

Sharon Carlton glowed as Corrigan stood right next to her, whispering sweet nothings in her ear.

"Corrigan," I said simply.

He looked up.

"Out."

He left.

And my mother sighed as she turned to regard me. She crossed her arms over her chest and noted, wearily, "You're furious with me. I've gotten the message, Sheldon. You didn't have to destroy everything I loved."

I flinched at her words. She hadn't come back for me. She'd come back for those things she loved so much.

I looked at the Boy Toy and pointed out, "You haven't introduced me to my newest brother. Are you thinking of adopting so late for his age? That's quite charitable, mother."

Her mouth tightened as she clipped out, "Now, now, daughter dear. No need to be snippy and rude."

"Is it not becoming of me?" I taunted and shifted to the back of my heels.

My mother was an intelligent, shallow, and selfish woman. Her intelligent eyes pierced through me as she drawled, "His name is Luther and we both know who he is."

"I guess we both don't," I said pointedly. "I didn't know his name was Luther, now did I?"

While mother and daughter played our game, Luther sat quietly.

"Tell me, Sheldon," my mother spoke again, seemingly bored. "Have you stopped yanking your friends around by their chains? Corrigan was positively enamored to see me. I wonder how Bryce felt considering it's his bed that you're in for the most part."

"Why would Bryce care if Corrigan was happy to see you?" I asked, but I knew I shouldn't have.

"Corrigan doesn't want my bed, darling. He wants yours. It's so obvious."

"Please," I laughed. "Do you know how many times that ploy's been thrown my way?"

"Really."

"Really," I delivered in contempt for my own mother. "Get some new material. You'd probably think of some if you weren't on your back more than I was."

Luther laughed, coughed, laughed again, and sputtered to compose his puppyish begging for scraps.

My mother froze and pierced me again with her eyes.

She asked softly, "Did you just call your mother a whore, darling? That's not very loving of you."

"That's funny. I don't ever remember you teaching me how to be loving."

Sharon took a breath and I felt her move farther away even though she never moved.

I waited, breath held in suspense.

A controlled smile graced her lipstick mask and she murmured, "We'll be going to a hotel from now on until I've found a new house for us. Now, if you'll excuse Luther and myself, we have important packing to do now. We need to sort what's worth saving and throw what's damaged."

Her words punctuated the right buttons and I felt a stab to the gut.

I stepped back and witnessed a flash of astonishment mixed with sympathy in Luther's brown eyes before he stood and followed my mother.

I stood by myself in the kitchen until I heard their bedroom door close upstairs.

I checked the window, but Corrigan's and Bryce's cars were both gone.

After another shower, I changed clothes and grabbed my phone as I moved into my backyard. It didn't pass my consciousness that I visited the backyard the first day my mother had returned home.

I stretched on one of the loungers and called Bryce.

"Yeah?" he asked and I heard the sounds of a video game in the background.

"You're at Corrigan's?"

"Yeah," he grunted and swore after I heard a crash.

"You just died, huh?"

"Yeah."

I rolled my eyes and snapped, "Bryce!"

"What? I'm here."

"Forget it," And I hung up. The phone rang a second later, but stopped with no message when I left it untouched.

It was the best time ever for my two best friends to abandon me.

It took me another second before I realized that Mena's house stared back at me. In fact, I had a perfect view of their driveway and living room. They only saw the back of my house with my garage at an angle. They could only tell if anyone was home if they actually walked over or saw headlights in the dark.

Not me. I saw perfectly that Mena was home as well as Denton's luxury Sedan.

I leaned forward from the lounger and squinted. I was able to make out four people in their living room. They all stood and suddenly the front door opened and slammed shut after Denton. He had a female companion with him that looked skanky with a barely-there red dress.

She was saying something as Denton walked her to his car—correction, her car—and just before she got into the driver's side, the kiss she tried to skim over his lips was met with air when Denton evaded her with a shake of the head.

Huh.

I saw her pull away and stiffen in anger before she peeled out of the driveway.

Denton stood a moment and watched her car before he raked a hand through his hair. He took a step towards their house, but stopped. He turned towards mine. I saw him jerk when it dawned on him that I had watched the entire thing. Another moment passed before he stepped towards me and I watched as he crossed the lawn separating our homes.

"You saw that, huh?" He dropped onto the lounger beside me.

I sat there, my eyebrows arched.

"Stop looking at me like that," he muttered as he buried his head in his hands, his elbows braced atop his knees. "God—this was an awful day."

"Tell me about it," I murmured, sarcastic.

"Mena has been…awful lately. I don't know what's going on with her. She just is angry and she takes it out on everyone. Dad's called me three times this weekend to come over because he can't handle her anymore. And Kari—it's our three month anniversary. She wasn't really understanding when I told her that I needed to stay with my family. We were supposed to fly to New York and have dinner at the Four Seasons." He laughed. "I'm going to be lucky if she even takes my call tonight."

I looked at him.

"What?" He looked back.

"You hit on me a week ago." Did it have to be said?

He shrugged. "So?"

"You were in a relationship and you hit on the 'girl that screws her movie star neighbor because she's pissed at how fake her parents are.'"

He flushed. "You're not ever going to let me live that down, huh?" He shrugged. "And besides, sex with you is like free champagne. You take it when it's in front of you and not ask questions or consider the consequences."

"I don't know if that's a compliment or if you just called me cheap." I seemed to be saying that to a lot of people.

"Neither. I'm just saying I'd jump on another bedspring with you any day."

Really? I rolled my eyes. "My mom's back."

He raised his perfectly plucked eyebrows that God had graced him with.

I sighed, "And she's back to get the rest of her stuff because her and my father are getting a divorce."

"Sorry about that," he said. "I remember when my parents got their divorce. I really think both my parents went crazy during that time. Thank god they hadn't gotten a psych eval, because they would've been diagnosed with something."

It didn't really help.

"Speaking of psych—Mena said that she's supposed to keep her 'psycho brother' away from you," he mused and grinned my way.

"You are psycho," I said matter-of-factly. "You're psycho when it comes to your sister."

"Thanks for giving her the brush-off, by the way. You did it pretty harsh, huh?"

"I didn't give her the brush-off. Corrigan and Bryce didn't like her and Mena didn't exactly stand her ground."

His scowl was immediate.

He caught my hand in a tight grip and asked, "Can you blame her? That one guy is fierce. He's a dick."

I didn't yank my hand back.

Denton realized it and protective brother was gone in a flash, only to be replaced by someone eager for free champagne.

He slid his fingers into mine and caressed my thumb.

I held my breath.

"Got a garage nearby?" Denton asked as his eyes flickered and focused on my lips. He tugged me closer and slid a hand over my thigh to play between my legs.

"What'd you say before?" I asked, throatily as he tugged me even closer.

I felt his breath against my lips when he replied, "About not asking questions or thinking of the consequences?"

"Yeah." I licked my lips and that was all it took. Denton fused his own against mine.

Warmth and excitement enflamed me as he shifted to lift me. He walked to my garage, fumbled for the door handle, and we were inside quickly. Denton pushed me against the wall and his hands did quick work as he shoved my pants down.

His kisses were demanding and rough, but it's what I needed.

One hand worked at his own pants as the other pulled my hair back to hold my head captive as his mouth assaulted me.

His tongue demanded entry and I could only hold on.

I heard the crinkle of a condom wrapper and then he gripped my thighs and clamped me around him as he shoved inside.

I gasped at the first thrust, but he pounded into me.

It was feral, hot, and when it was done too quick to have started, I held onto him for support.

He grunted as his last spasm left him and groaned, deep in his throat.

"Yeah," I laughed weakly.

Denton chuckled as he held me in place for another moment. He smoothed the hair away from my face and pressed his cheek against my forehead. And then his hands slipped between our bodies and worked its way inside of me.

He whispered as he kissed the corner of my mouth, "You didn't finish." He held me up until I was done and then he held me again until I could stand on my own.

"I have to go. Mena's probably wondering what I'm doing over here." And with an impersonal kiss to the lips, he was gone.

The empty garage stared back at me as I'd yet to fasten my pants.

Chapter 19

I messed up. The one other time that I had slept with Denton, I hadn't been scared for Bryce's reaction. I hadn't kept it secret, but it just hadn't mattered as much at that time. This time…it was different.

When I got to school the next morning, I ignored everyone else and searched for Bryce. I wanted to get this over with. I found him listening to a story from Harris.

I interrupted and grabbed his arm.

"What? Sheldon," Bryce said, startled.

I dragged him outside to a private area and stood there.

He asked, amused, "What? What happened to you yesterday? Was it really that bad with your mom?"

"I did…I did something yesterday that…you're not going to like."

Bryce grew silent.

"I…," I gasped.

"What'd you do?"

"I…had sex with someone last night."

Nothing. Silence.

I didn't look at him. I couldn't, but I saw one of his hands jerk in reaction. It caught itself and stretched, as if struggling to stay at its side.

He asked hoarsely, "Who?"

"Denton Steele."

Bryce turned away.

I cried out, "Don't—please don't leave. Just…stay and yell at me."

I still hadn't looked at him.

He asked, softly, "For what? We're not together, Sheldon. You and I, we're not a couple."

I finally raised my eyes to his and saw pain mixed with an unnamed emotion.

I held my breath. "You're not mad?"

He shook his head, but he didn't reach for me.

"No. I have no right to be mad, remember?"

"But…"

Bryce shook his head again and said faintly, "I gotta go to class. Bell's already rung. I'll see you inside."

When he left, I stood there and felt the same coldness as before.

I knew, I already knew, that it'd be a long time before he held me again.

Dazed, I was in the same place when Corrigan stuck his head out and exclaimed, "There you are! Holy hell—where've you been?"

"Corrigan," I said weakly and crumbled to the floor.

"Hey," he soothed as he knelt beside me. "What's wrong? Hey, hey."

I shook my head, it was all I could do, and whispered, "I just lost him."

Corrigan sighed and sat beside me. He flung an arm around my shoulder and pulled me to his side.

I burrowed into his side as he said against my forehead, "No. No, you didn't."

"I did. I had sex with someone else. I screwed up, Corrigan. I really did."

"No," he soothed again as his hand brushed my hair back. "Bryce loves you, Sheldon. Like true, gut-wrenching, love. One screw-up and he's not going to leave. He could've walked a long time ago, but he hasn't."

I asked, hoarse, "How do you know?"

"Because whenever you think that he's gone off with some girl, he's usually on the phone with me talking about how he should actually do it. He should screw half the girls that you think he does, but he never does. He's just angry and tired of waiting. And he doesn't do it because Bryce loves you and he's waiting for your self-destruction to stop."

"Self-destruction?"

"Yeah," Corrigan laughed. "That's what Logan told me this morning. Last night, I told her a little about what else is going on. Logan was amazed that you could still come to school. She said she would've broken down and end up in the asylum or something." He laughed. "She said you're made of strong stuff and, no wonder, because of all that's happened to you."

"What? The notes and Leisha?"

"No," he murmured, tenderly. "Losing your parents. She said that Miss Connors told her once that the worst thing that could happen to a kid is to never be loved. That's the absolute worst thing. She said Miss Connors told her that every kid has a right to be loved and when they're not—it's never their fault."

It wasn't my fault.

Corrigan shifted away and remarked, "Um…about that…Miss Connors said that we were supposed to make an appointment in three days or something, but she's booked so…"

"What?"

"I signed up for her first available slot and it's…"

"Right now," I finished for him, numb.

He laughed nervously and watched me. He even scooted away from me.

"I have to go and see a counselor like this," I said flatly.

"Well…" Corrigan shrugged.

"Fine. Let's do this." And just as abruptly, I was up and through the door. I didn't care what my face looked like, if they could see the tears or not—I wanted this hour done and over with.

Bryce was already in the office, leaning in the same spot, but unlike the last time, he didn't straighten when we walked inside.

He ignored us.

Mena sat beside him, her face closed to everyone else.

When we traipsed in, Miss Connors looked us over and announced, "Well…is there special significance that Corrigan is in the middle this time and Sheldon isn't?"

Corrigan didn't say anything. Neither did I.

Bryce shrugged and commented as he looked out the window, "No significance."

Her eyes looked us over again and studied each one before she harrumphed and leaned back in her chair.

"You know," she spoke flatly. "If I'd judge from our last session, I'd think that this was another dog and pony show for me. So…is it? I come down on you guys about protecting Sheldon, so you put Corrigan in the middle this time? Is it going to be you, Bryce, next time?"

Bryce failed to react and Miss Connors' eyes sparked at that.

She asked, sharply, "Sheldon…I was told that you skipped every class yesterday. Did you?"

"No," I murmured and looked at the door.

"Really? Because I have the attendance sheets."

"I didn't. I went to first period."

"Right." She sighed and asked, "So how about you, Bryce? You were missing all day yesterday. Where were you?"

He laughed, chokingly, and shook his head. Our eyes met briefly and we both looked away.

He'd been inside of me. And then someone else had taken his place.

"Fine," Miss Connors took another deep breath. "Someone wanna clue me in on the very large, very white, invisible elephant that's in this room?"

Crickets chirped.

"Alright. No one wants to tell me. I'm not going to ream you out like yesterday." She sighed and reached for a book. "How about today we'll just read a story. You guys can sit and listen. It's probably appropriate and if you don't pass my quiz at the end, I'm going to require daily sessions."

"What?" Corrigan asked.

"Ah!" Miss Connors smiled. "And the middle-man speaks. Now, story time so sit and listen, little children."

She opened the book and sighed as she sat straight, "So there was once a little girl fish, named Spooky, who loved to swim, but she'd never been taught to swim. And there was this frog named Harry Green. He liked to chirp to the friendly pond that he called home." Miss Connors paused dramatically…

"Are you serious?" Bryce asked, annoyed.

She looked at him with chilled eyes. "No. Talk time was earlier. This is story time. So zip it."

He opened his mouth again—

"Zip it," she cut him off. "And if you're going to complain again—whip it!"

Corrigan laughed.

"Mr. Raimler," Miss Connors chastised.

"Why am I Sheldon? Corrigan is Mr. Raimler? And Bryce is Bryce Scout?"

"Can you three please make up your minds? I'm not a puppet for you to string along. If you want to talk, let's hear what the white elephant is and if you don't—you're going to listen to my stories."

"Your stories?" Corrigan asked, eyebrows arched.

"Elephant or story. Your choice." She raised her own eyebrows to match his.

"Story," Bryce said automatically.

"Elephant," Corrigan voted.

"I had sex with Denton Steele," I named the elephant and startled myself.

Without missing a beat, Miss Connors remarked, "Well, that makes sense." She was serious.

Everyone looked at her, puzzled.

She sighed and said, "You found someone you knew and considered a friend dead. You're normally cut-off, Sheldon, but quite a bit's been going on. You realized how truly crappy your parents are. You found someone murdered. You're getting threatening letters. And…I got a phone call from your father. He said your mother came home yesterday. I'd say for someone who usually flies under the radar, emotionally-speaking anyway…you needed a different avenue to avoid everything that's been going on. Sex with someone you don't love—that makes sense."

Sex with someone you don't love. Those words echoed in me.

She continued, "And I've seen his latest movie." She whistled, "Hot stuff."

Bryce asked as he stretched his legs out, "What do you mean? Sex with someone she doesn't love?"

"Ah!" Miss Connors grinned coolly and replied, nonplussed, "That's what you heard out of that whole speech." She nodded my way and said, "I bet she's thinking the same thing."

Corrigan laughed.

Miss Connors ignored him and looked at me, "Because you do love him, Sheldon. And guess what? That's a decent thing for you to do. To be with someone that you love." She looked at Bryce, "She might not know it, but she loves you."

"My father called you?" I asked, quietly.

Corrigan stopped laughing.

Miss Connors nodded and murmured, "I called him yesterday to let him know that I saw his daughter for a successful session. I couldn't tell him anything, but he called me back and told me what was going on." She leaned forward. "For the record, Sheldon—he sounded sorry about everything that's gone down."

"What'd you tell him?"

"Just what I said right now. Sheldon came in for a session with her two best friends and I felt it went very well. That was it."

"Nothing else?" I prompted.

"Did I divulge all your secrets? No."

Corrigan suddenly asked, "Can we get back to Sheldon's question? Why am I Mr. Raimler, she's Sheldon, and Bryce is Bryce Scout?"

Miss Connors grinned and said, "Because you're so informal that you're formal. A formal title only makes sense. Bryce is a legend. He deserves two names. And Sheldon because, half the time, she forgets her own name."

Huh?

"What?" Corrigan echoed my sentiments.

Miss Connors shrugged, "You'll get it. Someday, maybe."

"I get it," Bryce said softly and leaned forward. "Mr. Raimler because you flirt so much to actually be real. It comes off as kinda impersonal or…formal." He shrugged. "And Bryce Scout because she said it herself, she hears about me from all those girls. I'm not really real, but… I don't know, like a celebrity or something." He took a deep breath, "And Sheldon because…Sheldon forgets that she's human sometimes. She tries to be a robot all the time."

"A robot who has mad passionate sex," Corrigan joked.

"Not appropriate, Mr. Raimler," Miss Connors rebuked quickly.

Corrigan muttered, just as quick, "Sorry."

"I think," Miss Connors spoke firmly. "That the biggest question in the room today is if Sheldon is a decent person or not. She talked about it yesterday. She told me that she wasn't a decent person. Leisha was a decent person, but Sheldon wasn't. Her words, not mine. So…" She looked between Bryce and Corrigan. "What do you think? Do you think Sheldon is a decent person?"

Corrigan spoke first, "Hell, yeah."

Bryce didn't say anything for a moment, but then he sighed, "She's a decent person when she remembers that she is a person."

I looked over, surprised.

He shrugged and met my eyes, "You just…I just don't think you feel half the time. You're so harsh sometimes to other people and I think it's just because you're worse to yourself."

"I think the bigger question is what Sheldon is going to do when she leaves today. She felt something yesterday and look where we all got. So what about today?" She finally looked my way and asked me, "I know you're feeling something today—so what are you going to do when you leave this office and you enter that world where you can't feel to get by? What 'indecent' thing are you going to do?"

I shrugged and looked away.

To my surprise, it was Bryce who burst out, "Come on! Just…say something, Sheldon!"

"This isn't therapy with just me," I cried out. "I thought this was a group thing. Why are you so focused on me today?"

"Because you're the one who banged Steele," Bryce bit out.

Miss Connors said quietly, "Because you're hurting the worst of everyone in this room."

Shocked, I looked at her, but the words died in my throat. I shook my head.

Bryce fell back against his chair in disgust.

Corrigan raised a hand and said, "Can I ask a question? And I'm not doing this to distract from Sheldon, I'm really not."

"What?" Miss Connors asked.

"Why are the three of us in here? I mean—I know that we were originally in here because it was Bryce and Sheldon who found Leisha's body, but…no one else is doing 'group' therapy."

"You're in here because the three of you have formed a tight family unit," Miss Connors explained patiently. "I've heard and listened to other students. You three are so tight, that there's no room for anyone else and you bat down anyone who threatens your alliances with each other. In the therapy culture, we'd call you an enmeshed family."

"Oh."

"So…this actually leads into some homework that I have for you guys." She reached behind her and grabbed two pairs of handcuffs. "Hold out your arms."

"What?"

"Are you serious?"

"Hell."

As we did, Miss Connors clamped one pair of handcuffs from my arm to Bryce's. She extended the other from Corrigan's arm to my other and leaned back in her chair.

"Now," she skimmed our faces. "This assignment has been approved by all your teachers, parents, and even the police. The three of you are going to prove to me that it's healthy for you to be as close to each other as you are. You're going to keep those handcuffs on until you've proved to me that you're healthy."

"That doesn't make any sense," Bryce remarked.

Miss Connors shrugged and offered, "It's this or you listen to stories of fish, frogs, and ponds."

"Handcuffs." Corrigan nodded.

"Good. I'll see you in two days for a check up. I want to know how it's going."

And we stood up.

Handcuffs, chains, and arms swung between each of us in our tight enmeshed triad.

Chapter 20

Life in handcuffs was not new to Corrigan and semi-new to Bryce. Surprisingly, they were alien to me in and out of the bedroom.

How to get out of handcuffs?

It was Corrigan's forte and he only needed one stop along the way.

Hoodum's.

The gang leader laughed uproariously when Corrigan called him out to our car in the parking lot. He actually stood there, laughed, and needed to pat his leg for composure.

It was maybe the first time that all three of us were quiet for our humiliation.

After we were delivered a third-sheet of public ridicule, Hoodum hunted around his warehouse and produced a key. Of course, afterwards Bryce remarked that Corrigan should've just 'picked' the lock. After getting arrested a few too many times, Corrigan knew his way around a pair of handcuffs.

At Bryce's comment, Corrigan had blinked, startled, and then cursed his own stupidity.

From there, we went back to school with the handcuffs still on, but they were taped so Miss Connors wouldn't figure out that we were cheating. All three of us tried to figure out which classes to go to and we had finally decided on Corrigan's fifth period with Mr. Hankins. I had just settled back for a nap when Mena strolled in wearing a black halter-top and black leather mini-skirt.

Every guy sucked in their breath. And most of the girls' mouths fell open or they hissed.

Corrigan and Bryce both appreciated the imagery, but it was Mr. Hankins who spoke up, "Miss Cruiw, you can report to the office. I'm fairly certain your dress is inappropriate. They might have a large tee shirt for you."

Mena ignored him and sat at a table in the corner.

"Miss Cruiw," Mr. Hankins tried again.

Bryce leaned forward and remarked, casually, "You're not wanted, Mena."

She snapped to attention and whirled around, "Was my brother a good lay, Sheldon? He was over at your house a little longer than he needed to be."

The class gasped and I sighed. Bryce had started this, but Mena knew where to make him hurt...

"What does it take to get it through your head?" Bryce asked. "You're not wanted."

"What'd I ever do to you?" Mena demanded.

He leaned back, coolly in control, "You're not right in the head. That's what you did."

"What? And Sheldon is? She's more screwed up than me."

"Mena," Mandy spoke up.

She was ignored when Mena cried out, "I can't believe you. You guys go at it like rabbits and you're still defending her after she screwed my brother in her garage."

That was enough. I asked, a sly grin on my face, "Did you wish it was you?"

The class held their breath.

Mena paled.

"Do you wish it had been you instead of your brother? Or do you wish it had been you that he touched?"

Mena couldn't speak. We all saw her fight for words around the choking ball of fury in her throat.

I finished, "Watch what you say, Mena. Jealousy can be a bitch and make you do things you'd rather forget."

Mr. Hankins spoke up then, calmly, "I think, Miss Cruiw, that you're wanted in the principal's office now."

"But—"

"Just go," Bryce bit out.

She stormed out, but she threw a last seething glare to our table before the door shut behind her.

I watched Bryce.

Bryce resumed his sleeping stance.

And Corrigan laughed, "Talk about making an entrance and exit."

Mr. Hankins just shook his head as he turned back again to the chalkboard. I watched Bryce, uneasily, through the entire class period until he finally sighed and murmured, out of the corner of his mouth, "I'm fine. I'm not going to go off and do something, okay?"

I stopped watching him and noticed the doodles that adorned Corrigan's notebook. I nudged him with my shoulder and asked, "What's that about?"

"Bored."

"Oh."

And I was reminded why I usually skipped any and all classes. They're just…boring.

When class was done, Chantal brushed up against Bryce as she walked along his empty side. I trailed behind, which caused Bryce's arm to fall behind with Corrigan on my other side. I caught him glancing up and down the hallway and asked, "Looking for Logan?"

Corrigan cast a sharp, cautious, glance my way, but sighed as he saw genuine curiosity in my own eyes, "Yeah."

We had stopped at Bryce's locker and I leaned against his neighbor's locker when I remarked to Corrigan, "You should have her come over today. I'm sure my mother will be gone house hunting with her boy."

Bryce looked up at that and commented, "I'd rather hangout at Corrigan's."

I looked sharply at him and breathed in relief. I was still in his plans after school.

"Sweet. I'll tell Logan," Corrigan said quickly before anyone could change their mind.

I said flatly, "No Chantal."

Bryce shrugged and remarked, "No movie star."

"Fine."

"Fine."

"Fine," Corrigan piped in and wrenched me aside as Logan approached the group. With the handcuffs, I got a good grope under her shirt as Corrigan greeted her like a long-lost lover that had been separated and held hostage by warring neighbors.

"Okay." I tugged my hand back and commented, "No more of that until we're not actually handcuffed together."

Corrigan and Logan parted at my words.

Logan was flushed, speechless.

Corrigan just grinned and replied, "Deal." He let go of Logan.

Bryce raised our hands as Miss Connors walked through the hallway. He remarked, "See, Miss Connors. Handcuffs."

"That's very nice, Bryce Scout," Miss Connors commented, politely, as she continued down the hallway.

Corrigan punched Bryce in the shoulder when she disappeared, "What was that, idiot?"

"What?"

"Nothing like telling her that we figured out how to get out of the handcuffs," I remarked.

Bryce cast a shrewd eye over me and shrugged, "Whatever."

Logan surprised everyone and asked me, "How are things with your mom?"

Bryce and Corrigan didn't say a word.

Neither did I.

No one asked about The Mother.

"That's a loaded question," Corrigan commented and eyed his girlfriend in pity.

But—new leaf and all—I said, calmly and even a little bit nicely, "She's…hopefully gone pretty soon."

Corrigan suddenly laughed and suggested, "We should have a sleepover at your place tonight, Bryce."

I grinned and commented, "AnnaBelle Scout would pray the whole night with a Bible on her lap."

Bryce rolled his eyes, but I caught the slight quirk at his lips.

"Why?" Logan treaded onto uncharted waters once again. She asked, "What's your mom like?"

The pause wasn't so obvious this time and Corrigan answered easily, "AnnaBelle hates Sheldon."

"And she loves Corrigan. Corrigan's a saint in AnnaBelle's world," I added.

Logan kept quiet, which was wise.

Bryce muttered as the four of us moved towards my locker, "She'd go after Miss Connors and the school would lose a good counselor."

"She said she got everyone's permission for this thing."

"She called my dad, not my mom. The school knows to call my dad for anything real about me. They call mom if they want her to volunteer for a food drive or something." Bryce rarely talked about his dad and he couldn't hide the bitterness from his tone as he did now.

Logan glanced at me. Corrigan quieted, skimmed an eye over Bryce and turned to me.

I watched Bryce and he looked up to find my eyes on him.

"Don't even," he bit out.

I grinned, "What? You think you're the only one who can have a screwed up family?"

The second bell rang then and Corrigan asked, "What class are we going to?"

Mandy Justice approached us at that time. She gave us each a handout and said what the title read, "We're doing a candlelight vigil for Leisha tonight. It's nine in the tabernacle at Holy Mount."

Holy Mount was the local Christian college.

"Who's we?" I asked.

"Me. A few others. Becky, Jill, just…the regular girls."

"You guys didn't even know Leisha."

"No, but Carlos did and Becky wanted to do this for him." Mandy shrugged. "Your fight's not with me, but it's a good cause."

"You should get some of her friends to do it." And why would Becky want to do this for Carlos?

Mandy flinched. "Look, no one else is doing it so…just show up, okay?"

Mandy left before I could say anything.

Bryce nodded and stated, "We're going." It went without saying, but Bryce had already said it.

The final bell rang and I stuffed the handouts in my books.

Chapter 21

Compared to the normal hustle and bustle, all three of us spent a boring afternoon at Corrigan's. Bryce and Corrigan played video games, laughed, and punched each other. I curled on the couch for awhile and then moved to the bedroom.

Katrice came down a few times. The first time she brought a tray of crackers and cheese. Her second trip consisted of cookies that she'd baked that afternoon. The entire house was filled with the aroma of chocolate chip cookie dough. And her third trip was with hot chocolate and tiny marshmallows.

Corrigan and Bryce ate it up—literally.

I accepted the hot chocolate and curled up on the couch afterwards.

Logan hit the doorbell around seven and Bryce gave me his phone to call my house. I didn't ask for it. He didn't offer it. He simply dropped it in my lap with my number already on the screen.

I called, but there was no answer and I didn't leave a message.

Logan sat on the opposite couch and we watched the boys play their games. I sat up once for a round of Guitar Hero, but my blanket called my name after I was done.

For a group that was generally known for their action and immorality, we were saintly and boring that afternoon.

Katrice brought another round of sandwiches and then announced dinner.

Corrigan asked if we could eat downstairs and so dinner came to us. We were served lasagna and garlic bread.

Logan smiled politely and Katrice adored her instantly.

For a moment, I watched with a faint grin. I wondered if Katrice was relieved that I wasn't Corrigan's girlfriend.

Maybe Katrice would've turned into another AnnaBelle if Corrigan had become a Bryce.

Bryce's phone rang and jumped in my hand. I had held onto it after my empty phone call and now saw that it was AnnaBelle.

Bryce looked over, saw my expression, and said flatly, "Ignore it."

I glanced up and Bryce saw the devil-may-care glint in my eyes because he straightened and said further, "Leave it, Sheldon. I mean it."

I stood up and answered it in a sweet purring voice, "Hello, Bitch." I grinned in satisfaction as I walked from the room.

Annabelle caught her breath, but I heard a moment later, "I knew it. I just knew it. Bryce hasn't been returning my calls and he hasn't stayed at home since I found you in his bed."

I cocked my head to the side and returned, "Well, he hasn't been in my bed." He had, but only for an afternoon so it wasn't technically a full lie.
Annabelle laughed. It was full of contempt and my back straightened in indignation.

"I give up," she chuckled to herself. "I give up. You can have him, but I promise you, Sheldon, you won't hold him. No one's going to hold my boy because he's going to the professionals next year."

I frowned and stopped moving down the hallway.

His mother continued, self-assured, "He's going pro and he's going to leave you behind. You might want to start looking for a replacement pretty soon, another big guy that'll protect you and stay up at night worrying about you. My boy won't be that guy anymore. He's going pro and the world is going to notice him."

The phone rattled, just slightly, as my grip clenched tighter around it. "What are you talking about?" I turned and looked down the hallway.

I was far enough so they couldn't hear, but Bryce stood in the hallway. He watched and I saw that he knew. I couldn't see anyone else. The hallway cut off my vision of Corrigan, his perfect girlfriend, and the perfect doting mother.

A look of exhausted resignation came across Bryce's face.

"He 'has to work,'" I quoted Bryce's words to his mother.

"Yes, he does and he's going to be noticed and you'll be in his dust. Mark my words. You'll be gone."

Bryce took a step and said, "Hang up."

"He didn't quit soccer because a college scholarship wanted him to, did he?"

AnnaBelle laughed. "He quit because the pros don't want him to get injured before their trainers can work with him."

Bryce stopped just before me and he said again, softly, "Hang up."

My fingers gripped tighter and I breathed, "Where?"

"Far far away."

It was wrong for a mother to enjoy a daughter's torment. It didn't matter whose daughter stood at the end of that torment. That person, that soul, was someone's daughter.

"Sheldon," Bryce breathed.

Broken, I whispered, as her words whipped inside of me, "If I had a daughter and her eyes were his…would you want them to be crying?"

AnnaBelle stopped abruptly.

Bryce cursed.

He took the phone from my numb fingers and turned away as he quickly murmured into it. I saw the tension in his shoulders. I saw how stiff his back was.

When he hung up, I breathed out, "You're leaving."

"Sheldon."

"Why are you leaving?" I cried out. "This was before I messed up."

Bryce closed his eyes and I saw the turmoil inside of him at that moment. It raged inside of him and I slowly, in awe, pressed my palm against his chest. Bryce sucked in a breath at my touch, but didn't move. Neither of us moved.

"You can't move," I whispered.

His eyes opened, slowly, almost lazily, and he whispered, "I don't want to."

I closed my eyes at his words.

"Hey," Corrigan called out from around the corner, ignorant, and unaware. "We should get going. Mom wants to do something before we head to the shindig tonight."

My eyelids snapped open and I looked up.

Bryce watched me and I saw an answering ache.

Bryce turned to the side. My hand fell away. And we walked back to find Corrigan and Logan snuggled close together on one of the couches.

Bryce and I sat on a second couch. We didn't sit at the ends, but there was an easy breathing space between us. I sat back and Bryce leaned his elbows on his knees.

Katrice came back down the stairs a final time with two bottles of wine and five glasses in her hand. She uncorked one and poured the first glass.

To my surprise, she turned and handed it to me. Warmly, she murmured, "It's a toast to Leisha Summers."

I took the wine glass and felt the smooth fragile contour between my fingers. The wine was a deep red and it screamed of texture.

"Thank you," I murmured, surprised and quieted.

Katrice smiled warmly and I knew in that moment that she wouldn't have been another AnnaBelle. She would've been someone I'd never known if Corrigan had been Bryce.

Katrice nodded and turned to me, heartfelt and unaware of how startling a person she was, "She was your friend. Corrigan told me. He said that you liked her and there aren't many that you like." She smiled again, sparkling, "This is a toast to your friend, Sheldon, because I know that she'll be missed by many if she passed the tests to your heart."

She poured four more until all of us held a glass of that textured wine.

Corrigan raised his and said, "I didn't know, but…I remember her crazy outfits. And she had some wild hair. I remember that."

Logan giggled before she drank to his toast.

Bryce glanced at me and I knew a temporary truce had been called. His eyes were clear as he said clearly, "I liked her. She put up with our crap that one day and…I don't know…I liked her. She seemed like a good person."

Numb, I watched as he drank to his toast.

They all waited for me now.

"She…wanted to be cool," I spoke the truth.

Corrigan, Bryce, Logan grew somber as they heard what I said.

It was the truth and it made the moment even more heartbreaking.

"She…did what I told her to do because she wanted to be popular. She wanted to be liked and I knew that. She skipped class one day and she never would've done that except that I asked her to. She only did it because…I was popular and she wanted to be popular. She put up with our stupid games."

I cut off, for a moment.

"I—what kind of person does that? Willingly lets someone…I never would do that. I would never go along for the ride, knowing that I might be humiliated by the people I'm with."

"It wasn't about that," Bryce spoke up. He shifted closer. "We invited her to go with us and she did. She sat at a table with you all year. She started to get to know you."

"Yeah. She…," Corrigan spoke up. "She was your friend, Sheldon. You looked out for her at the end. That's what we get because we're your friends. You look out for us. You're loyal even if it makes you a bitch."

"And besides," Bryce grinned softly. "This isn't about how horrible you are, whatever you're thinking right now—this is about Leisha. And she seemed like a right chill girl."

"Yeah, but…"

"No buts," Corrigan said firmly. He scooted to the edge of the couch and leaned towards me. "No buts, Sheldon. Leisha saw in you what we all see in you and that makes her okay in my books."

I grinned, "She wrote swear words in her notebook when she was mad." I laughed, "I thought that was hilarious when I saw it because…" My smile died. "I wouldn't have done that. I would've just told the teacher what I thought. I wouldn't have been…she was nice."

"She was," Logan spoke up, timid at first. "I had Spanish with her and I thought she was always really cool—kinda like you, actually."

"What?"

"She…she didn't care about fitting in. She just did what she wanted. That's what all her friends are like." Logan added, "You don't care about fitting in. You do what you want and that's what she did. She was nice, but…she did her own tune. She didn't…conform like so many others do."

"Like you," I noted.

"Sheldon," Corrigan reprimanded.

"No," Logan said quickly. "It's true. I conformed. I still am conforming. I get it, that's why…that's why you didn't like me for so long, right?"

I smiled tightly.

"That's why you still don't like me," Logan commented, wryly. "I think…at first I thought that I needed to be a bitch for you to like me, but that's not true…is it? I just…I have to be me, don't I? That's what all three of you guys do. You guys are just…you blow off anyone who stands in your way of that."

Katrice frowned.

I spoke up, "I wasn't trying to be mean just now."

"I know," Logan nodded. "It hurt because it was true, but…not many can get through high school without conforming. You're either…I'm not popular enough and I don't have the words or the snappy comeback and…I don't have…I care what people think of me."

"So did Leisha," I said. "She cared, but…I think she was just starting to not care. She was a 'good girl.'"
"She wouldn't have been for long if she'd been our friend," Corrigan laughed.

"No," Bryce spoke up. "I think she would've. I think she would've done what she wanted and liked who she wanted and blushed about lying to teachers."

Katrice frowned a bit more.

"She never apologized for it," I murmured as I looked at no one. "She skipped, but she was thrilled by it. I don't remember the last time that I skipped and I was excited by it. She was just refreshing because she was…"

"Not us," Bryce followed my train of thought.

"Yeah."

"I didn't know her, but I wish that I would've." Logan raised her toast and I saw a tear had fallen down her cheek. Another followed and she said gravely, "I wish that I would've known what you knew and that I could've looked at her through your eyes."

Corrigan smiled softly and chinked his glass against hers. They shared another smile and took a drink.

Katrice sniffled. We looked over and she reared back to try to hide her face with a hand. "Oh, don't look at me."

Corrigan laughed and stood next to his mother. He wrapped an embracing arm around her shoulders and lifted his glass, "To Leisha, who wasn't anything like us, but, hell, we got two people to cry because of her."

It was an awful toast, but I couldn't help chuckling anyways.

"A toast," Corrigan said further and all of us lifted our glasses. We toasted my friend and the different memory she'd leave us with.

After a second and third glass, Katrice was beet red and she was giggling nonstop. She excused herself after many reassurances to drive safe when we left for the vigil.

Bryce only had one glass of wine so he promised to drive safe and sober.

It brought a blush to Mrs. Raimler and she held a hand to his cheek. She gushed about how adorable he was until Mr. Raimler walked through the door. With a quick gasp and a quick squeeze to her son's hand, Mrs. Raimler was off and embracing her husband after a long hard day at work. Mr. Raimler was silent until he expelled a resigned mutter about wine and all of us broke into a grin below.

Corrigan rolled his eyes and shot a glare towards Bryce, "If you ever say a word about what just happened—you and I are not going to wake up in the hospital at the same time."

Bryce grinned and stood up. He dangled his keys and remarked, "Let's go. The thing is going to start soon."

Bryce drove. I rode shotgun and the two lovebirds sat in the back.

Corrigan mused, "What is a vigil? Technically?"

"It's a state of observance and prayer," Logan answered him softly.

"So why can't they just say that we're going to get together and pray for her?" Corrigan asked. "That's stupid. It's like making up a name for another name of what we're actually doing."

Bryce and I were quiet, but Logan had the answer. She said calmly, quietly, "There's a lot of opinions about what we're supposed to specifically believe in. I think it's just a way to make everyone happy by stamping a vague description on it."

"But that's…," Corrigan started. "That's stupid. If people are praying then that means they're all praying to their god, right? And yet, it's called a candlelight vigil?"

"There's a lot of specifics about a general concept," Bryce noted. "People want to have a say about those specifics because—"

I finished for him, "Because in the end, we have no say whatsoever."

"We die, we die," Corrigan put it simply. "We go where we're supposed to go."

Bryce tipped the rearview mirror so he could meet Corrigan's eyes. He murmured, "You want to think of Stephen going somewhere that you're not? What about your mom?"

Corrigan shrugged again. "I won't care. I'll be dead or they'll be dead. They'll be happier than me because I guarantee, if anyone's going to heaven, it'll be them before me."

Immorality and immortality. I wondered about the relationship between the two or if there was one.

"She's happy," I murmured, to myself, but the car heard. "That's all I care about right now. If there's a heaven or whatever—I'm sure she's there and I'm sure that she's happy."

"Yeah."

Corrigan had heard too. He added, "She's dead. She might've died an awful—"

He choked off abruptly.

Logan frowned and glanced over.

"She died because of me." I said softly.

"No," Corrigan said first.

Logan frowned.

Bryce shook his head and said roughly, "Shut up, Sheldon."

The car turned another corner and it wasn't until we'd covered a mile before I asked, chilled, "Do you think he's going to be there?"

"Shut up, Sheldon!" Bryce cried out. "I don't want to talk about it. I don't…this night is about your friend and that's it."

"This isn't about you," I cried back.

Logan and Corrigan didn't move.

"Yes, it is!" Bryce snapped. "Yes, it is and I'm done with it. I'm done with this loser who's just a coward. I'm done with it. We're going to this damned vigil and we're not talking about that psycho."

An uneasy chill settled over the car.

Corrigan broke it as he commented, "I don't think you're supposed to say 'damned vigil' together. That's like…what's the word? A dichotomy or something?"

A relieved giggle broke from Logan that was quickly covered up.

Bryce shook his head and sighed, "Shut up, man, just…shut up."

I said softly, "For the record, I wanted to talk about it and you didn't."

Bryce sighed another ragged breath and uncurled his clenched fingers from the steering wheel. "Can we…not right now?"

"Fine." I fell back against my seat.

"Fine."

Corrigan sighed dramatically in the backseat and groaned, "I think today has been the longest day in the history of my life. It won't end!"

Bryce fell silent and resumed his driving duties.

I sighed and folded my arms across my chest.

I heard Logan lean and whisper in Corrigan's ears. He laughed softly and said, "No, it's not like that."

The rest of the drive wasn't long and it took five more minutes before we arrived. The parking lot was overflowing at HolyMountChurch and Tabernacle. Even at night, the college's campus was a serene portrait. The sidewalks were bricked with burnt red and dusty rose colored tablets that matched the building's bricked fortresses.

It seemed the entire school's population had shown up for the candlelight vigil.

Inside the tabernacle, candles were placed along the aisles and at the end of each row of chairs. The stage was masked in thick blood-red robes, roses of every color, and candles.

Bryce grabbed my hand and led us to the narthex where we could sit above the rest. Corrigan and Logan followed close behind and Bryce snuck us into a back corner where little attention was spared in our direction.

As we sat, Bryce released my hand and I looked at him. He refused to meet my eyes so I slowly slid my hand down his arm and entwined our fingers.

Bryce held limp, glanced at me, saw the quiet yearning, and tightened his hold over mine.

"Whoa—how many candles do you think are on there?" Corrigan leaned over our chairs.

Bryce shrugged.

"It seems like a thousand," I remarked, not really giving it thought.

Corrigan nudged my shoulder and nodded behind me.

I turned and saw Officer Sheila in the doorway with her partner. She nodded in greeting, but didn't move our way. Instead, Sheila gestured downstairs and I turned to see my mother framed in a white chiffon coat with Luther cloaked in a textured black suit. They looked like they stepped from a magazine cover and I even saw some glitter in my mother's hair. They stood off to the side of the stage and I saw, horrified, that my mother was smiling graciously at Becky with a comforting hand to her shoulder.

"What the hell is my mother doing here?" I gasped through gritted teeth.

Corrigan and Bryce wisely kept quiet.

I stood up and started away, but Bryce hauled me back down with a firm tug.

"Stay," he said simply.

"My mother—"

"Is probably doing what my mother is doing." He nodded in an opposite corner and there stood AnnaBelle Scout with her hair primped and tied with a bow. Savannah glowed in a golden princess dress as she stood in the circle of her mother's arms. Luca was nowhere to be found.

Just then, as the thought occurred, Luca tapped his brother on the shoulder from behind. No one spoke, but everyone stood up and shifted down a seat so Luca could sit where Bryce had vacated.

Luca shook his head, grim, and muttered, "Mom's showing off again. I swear, every soccer mom or soccer-mom-wanna-be had to show up here tonight. It's turned into the 'thing' to be at."

Corrigan chuckled. "Man, my mom's so out of the loop."

I whipped around and said bluntly, "You have a good mom."

Corrigan raised an eyebrow and said, "I know."

Bryce lightly punched his brother's shoulder and Luca grinned, ducked his head, and murmured, "Mom's on the warpath for you so you better take off as soon as this thing is over."

I remembered Bryce's words from before and thought that Luca was a 'chill' fourteen year old.

"That's why my mom's here. She's entering the social circle again." I sighed as my fate resumed its old stance. I'd gotten a vacation with my parents gone, but now with the house hunting and the new boyfriend—mom was home to stay. I wondered if there'd be barbeques with the neighbors.

The vigil started as the lights dimmed and a hush settled over the crowd. I'd been right. The entire student population had shown up, complete with their parents and siblings and all their little friends.

And all for little Leisha, who a mere handful actually knew. And those who remembered her were even less than that.

A few touching words were shared by Becky and Mandy, the organizers of the event. They introduced Leisha's parents and her little brother who were seated in the front row, as if part of the show. They sniffled, hugged each other for support, and nodded their thanks to the two 'popular' girls who hadn't known Leisha existed until she was dead.

"Let's go," I said abruptly. "I don't want to be here. These people didn't even know her."

Luca shrugged and said, "Doesn't mean they can't pray for her or her family. It's just support."

Bryce stayed in his seat. So did Corrigan. And I shoved up and started down the aisle.

"Hey," Bryce whispered sharply.

"I'm just—," I turned back and gestured, helplessly, outside the doors. "I'm going to go out there. I won't be far."

I didn't wait for a nod of permission. I shoved my way through the crowd and stopped short at the surreal emptiness of the lounge that lay just beyond four opened doors. In the corner, tucked away behind the coat-racks, couches, chairs, and coffee tables was a girl with spiked hair. She looked like a peacock.

I remembered and approached her. Her head was downcast, studying her lap, and she seemed to shrink in size as I sat in a chair next to her.

She looked up after a moment and I saw the same injustice that raged inside of me. She had startling blue eyes, but she looked away again.

"You can just leave," she bit out.

"You were friends with Leisha. I remember seeing you at her table once."

She whipped up and snarled, "It was my table and Leisha is my friend…she's just gone right now."

"Don't tell me your name is Cassandra Bens." I remembered that Carlos had had a thing for her.

"God, no!" She blinked, startled, and in disgust. "I'm Bailey, Leisha's best friend."

"I'm—"

"I know who you are," she said quickly. "Leisha worshiped you."

"I know," I said faintly.

I caught movement at the doorway and looked up to see Bryce standing in the doorway. He met my gaze and turned to lean against the doorframe as he watched the vigil inside.

Bailey looked over too and shook her head, "He's really gorgeous, isn't he?"

"He's an ass." I smiled faintly.

"Yeah." Bailey laughed dryly. "Only you can say that because he's yours."

I frowned, but didn't correct her. "I liked Leisha," I said instead.

"I know. Me too," Bailey whispered hoarsely.

"I'm really sorry."

"Why? Leisha was the one who went to the party. She was the one who walked down the block."

I frowned and asked, sharply, "What?"

Bailey looked up. Blank.

"What do you mean—she walked down the block?"

"She was at my house that night. Carlos called her and she wanted to go. He said that you invited her. I live two blocks from Evans' house. He's a dipshit."

"I thought—I thought she was walking in the park because that was the straightest way from her house."

"Hell, no. Leisha's not stupid. She would never have walked in that park alone. Someone who's high might go there at night or if they want to get murdered and raped."

I was stunned. And speechless.

"I told her not to go. I thought it was stupid. She liked Carlos so much. I thought she was stupid for liking you too and I really thought she was stupid when she skipped with you and Mr. Gorgeous." Bailey shook her head as a haunted grin flitted over her features, "Leisha was so stupid sometimes, but…she said that you weren't what everyone said you were. I guess she was right after all."

"I liked her," I said again, faintly.

"I can't stand this mockery. I bet a third of those people in there are actually feeling sad. The rest, they're just there so everyone will see them there. I hate it. Leisha wouldn't have cared and that's so sad. She wouldn't care that they're just using her. She'd say something moronic like 'at least they're praying for a good cause.'" Bailey broke off and laughed bitterly. A few tears streaked down her face and she wiped them away.

"I gotta go," she said abruptly and sped down the stairs.

I didn't move. Bryce came and sat in her vacated seat.

He leaned back and neither of us said a word.

We sat and stared at nothing.

Chapter 22

Bryce and I left as the last prayer started. We wanted to beat the crowd and after Bryce dipped inside to tell Corrigan the plan, neither of us said a word when he came back with Luca in tow.

The three of us trailed to Bryce's car and Luca sat in the back. Silently, Bryce drove to his house. He didn't look my way, but disappeared inside with Luca for a moment. Bryce came back out with a bag slung over his shoulder and he reversed the car out of his driveway.

My house was doused in black while Mena's was white with movement, music, and dancing lights. They were having a party. It was surreal considering what we'd just left.

I walked around the garage for a better view. Bryce rounded the garage and stood beside me. He watched for a moment and murmured, "Those people seem pretty glitzy."

"Yeah. I don't think Mena's parents are there."

"Big bro is having a party." Bryce nodded with no reaction and moved around to the back door.

He knelt, found the hidden key, and unlocked the house.

It was a little startling how ingrained Bryce had become with my life.

. Once inside, I said, "You can't leave."

He stiffened and slowly put his bag on the ground before he turned to me. "We're not going to hash that out right now."

"Why not? This is as good a time as any. No one's here. And you're already pissed at me."

"Pissed," Bryce bit out. "That's what I am? That's why I held your hand and sat next to you at that prayer thing? That's why I'm here right now?"

"No." I was blind as I spewed out, "You lo—"

I stopped as the words choked in my throat. My eyes went round and I blanched as I took in the furious keenness that had overtaken my best friend as he heard me and heard the words stop. He stepped closer.

He asked softly, lethal, "What were you going to say?"

I readied myself. A fight was brewing.

Bryce finished it as a gentle fury swirled in him, "I love you. That's what you were going to say."

I looked away and started to walk, but Bryce gripped my arm and whipped me back. "You don't walk from this. You started it. We're going to finish it."

"I—" I started, but my doorbell rang and the words shriveled and died.

Bryce cursed and I shoved past him to walk the entire household's length to the front door.

I glanced through the living room windows and gulped as I saw who stood there.

Bryce still waited in the back doorway, so I moved around and opened the front door.

Denton stood and I saw the movie star that caused everyone to pant. He wore a crisp white buttoned-down shirt over a pair of just-as-crisp black leather pants.

Denton grimaced and laughed as he saw my perusal.

"Sorry. It's my get-up for the…" He waved in the direction of his home. "It's the crowd that I'm entertaining over there. The Hollywood crowd doesn't do jeans and tee shirts."

I leaned against the door and remarked, "I recall Mena wearing a shocking leather outfit today."

"Yeah," Denton rolled his eyes and rubbed a hand over his jaw. "She…she's been a bit out of hand lately. I think she got it from Kari."

"So what are you celebrating tonight?" Let's swap evening stories. I've just been to a vigil for my murdered friend.

Denton seemed to choose his words carefully, but he said, "I'm trying to make it up to Kari for our argument last night."

"Yeah." I raised my eyebrows and taunted, "How's that going?"

Denton smiled softly, seductively, and stepped closer. "Mena told me about your friend. I'm sorry. I saw your car pull in and wanted to offer my condolences." He reached out and trailed a finger down my arm to my hand and threaded our fingers together.

I didn't move, but I just watched.

I felt Bryce move around the corner. No sound. No reaction. Nothing, but I just felt him. I looked over my shoulder and stared into his cold eyes.

Denton didn't notice him right away and murmured, "I was wondering if I could offer my condolences right now? Maybe in a bed this time?"

Bryce jerked awake and strode to us.

Denton looked up, startled, and was quickly pushed out the door. Bryce slammed the door shut and locked it.

He stood and breathed. His chest jerked up and down with each raging breath and then he hauled me against him and slammed his mouth down on mine. He ground into me and I whimpered once as pain and lust slammed full force into me.

I literally crawled up him and wrapped my legs around him.

Bryce clamped his hands around my legs and pawed where I knew bruises would appear within the hour. He turned and slammed me into the wall as he reached up and ripped my shirt into pieces. Different pieces hung off me. One wrapped around my wrist. Another hung from my naked waist. And one strand was still wrapped around my neck as it hung down my back.

Bryce took my weight as he walked up the stairs and to my room. He threw me on the bed and pinned me down with his body as he unzipped my pants and flung them off.

I screamed in my throat from the force and anger that rolled off him, but I also screamed because I felt it and needed it. I needed him in that moment.

Bryce scooped me up and flipped me on my stomach. I heard a condom rip open and a second later, after he spread my legs wide, Bryce shoved inside of me. I felt him gasp just above my ear as his chest rubbed against my back.

I whimpered as I pressed my face into the blankets. I'd never felt anything like this before.

He shoved deeper and I felt myself stretch to take the full length. One hand held my arms pinned above my head. The other snuck underneath my body and grasped my breast. He rolled the hardened nipple in his fingers as I panted. I bucked underneath him, needing more. Bryce let my arms free as he moved to wrap my legs around his waist and he pistoned into me.

I twisted my neck, in search for him, and Bryce found me with his lips. He demanded entry and I gave it, gladly. After a short battle of the tongues, Bryce let go, clamped one hand to the bed's headboard and another at my hip. He held me still as he levered himself up and down over me.

I could only lay there, gasping, as the onslaught of pleasure crashed over me.

The thrusts increased in tempo and both of us were gasping for release as Bryce exploded over me.

I was just behind and my body quivered as he fell onto me with his full weight.

Neither of us moved. We laid there and focused on getting our breath back.

Finally, I asked, hoarse, "Was that supposed to be punishment?"

Bryce sighed wearily and rolled off of me. He moved on his back and threw a blanket over both of us.

I propped myself up, on an elbow, and asked as I stared at him, "What was that?"

"You came."

"Bryce," I snapped and overpowered him this time. I straddled him and glared. "What was that?"

He laughed bitterly, "The epitome of a dysfunctional and unhealthy relationship?"

"Are you smug about this?" I asked, incredulous.

"What do you want, Sheldon?" Bryce shoved me off. "I love you. You're about to say it and that movie star slut shows up."

"What do you want from me?" I snapped and shouted. I scrambled to my feet and flung a sheet over my naked body, but I stood and I demanded an answer. "What do you want from me?"

Bryce watched me intently from the bed. "What do you think?" he shouted back.

"I don't know," I grated out. "I don't know…okay? I want you, but…"

"But what?" Bryce scrambled to his feet now. He towered over me and I felt his body heat radiate off his skin.

"I…how can I want to—all the girls, Bryce! All the girls that you just screw."

"I don't screw 'em!" he cried back, frustrated. "I just…I don't push 'em away and why should I? It's not as if I have a relationship to push them away for. I'm not going to hand over my balls just to feel the breeze in a different way."

I choked in outrage.

Bryce said further, "I have told you. Others have told you. You know how I feel, Sheldon, and you don't do a goddamn thing. Are you that deluded?"

"You're leaving!" I shouted. "You're leaving me for professional soccer."

"No." Bryce shook his head, fierce. "You didn't find that out until today. That doesn't count. Stop playing games!"

"I'm not!" I got in his face.

"That's all you do!" He got in mine.

"My god—" I laughed, darkly, and shook my head as I stepped back. "I can't believe this. We just…you just screwed me, literally, and we're trying to tear each other apart. This isn't…this isn't right."

Bryce sucked in his breath and retreated. He raked his hands through his Mohawk and sat on the edge of the bed as the sheets covered his slim hips. Even there, even with the hatefully-charged words and recriminations, even with all of that—I wanted him. I wanted him deep and I wanted him forever.

"What do you want from me?" I asked, softly, and my voice echoed in the screaming wake.

Bryce drew a ragged breath in and said quietly, "Maybe the question is what you want from me?" He pinned me with his eyes and added, "I love you. I'm here. We'll have sex until the house falls down…what do you want, Sheldon? You don't want me gone. Is it—can you just not be vulnerable? Is it the trust thing? I've seen you naked in a shower. I've seen you pretty goddamn vulnerable."

"That's not vulnerable," I said faintly, surprised at my words.

"Yes, it is." Bryce stood up again and advanced on me. "I know you inside and out, Sheldon. I just…I want you to say it, once. I want you to finally break down your pride and admit that you need me. I know you do. Not Corrigan. Not even your parents. You need me and I need you. And I need you to just tell me, once."

"I want you."

"That's not what I want and you know it. Stop the games!" he retorted swiftly.

Backed into a corner, I snarled back, "Stop it!"

Bryce caught my hands and pinned them above me. He leaned close and whispered against my skin, "Just say it, Sheldon." He kissed underneath my ear and I gasped.

I arched into him and whispered, brokenly, "That's not fair."

"Yes, it is. I'll take anything I can get at this point," Bryce whispered back and his fingers slid around one of my legs. He raised me up to wrap around him and I felt him push against me. I melted inside and grasped at his shoulders. I fought to draw him closer and I fought to keep him away.

"This isn't—," I gasped as his mouth moved to my breast. "This isn't fair."

"Is this the only thing that you'll let yourself feel?" Bryce whispered against my skin and he thrust inside.

"No," I whispered as I wrapped my other leg around him and rose up against the wall.

"What else will you feel? What else can I get?"

"If I say it now, it's not fair." I kissed his jaw, his neck, his lips.

"I don't care anymore," Bryce whispered as he thrust again.

"Bryce."

"I love you," he panted against my lips.

"I—" I broke off as he thrust again.

"Say it!" Bryce demanded as he thrust again.

I snapped. I swiftly arched my back and shoved him away at the same time. It wouldn't happen—not like that.

Bryce fell on the bed, startled by the swiftness and strength, but I quickly straddled him. As he fought for entrance, I clamped my hips around his and held myself above him. Bryce could've overpowered me. He could've closed the distance and it would've been met with an excited scream, but he didn't.

Bryce stayed in my arms and he gazed at me as I waited for him to see what was in my eyes.

He stopped as he saw it. His breath left him in that exact moment. And I took it in. I let the warmth fill my lungs as I bent and softly met his lips, tenderly. I kissed him, a loving kiss, and I whispered against the corner of his lips, "I love you."

He lay suspended in my hold and the fight had left him.

Bryce blinked in shock until my words sunk inside.

I realized that he'd never expected it. He had asked, fought, and demanded—but he'd never expected it.

"I—," he started, but I kissed him and stopped the words. I moved farther up his chest and looked down.

The wall fell down and I let him see me.

"I love you," I sighed.

Bryce shifted and slid my hips down to meet his. He went inside and I gasped. My eyes closed as did his and we felt each other for the first time in four years of being intimate.

Afterwards Bryce curled me against his chest as we laid still, sweating, and panting from what had happened. He ran a soothing hand up the side of my arm to my shoulder and back down again.

In the darkness, I asked, "So what now?"

Bryce tucked his head into the crook of my neck and shoulder. He breathed in my scent and tightened his hold around me. His voice was muffled as he replied, "I don't know."

I heard the exhaustion and felt its answering pull inside of me.

"Just…no more Denton Steele," Bryce remarked.

"No more girls fawning over you."

"Deal."

"Deal."

Bryce chuckled and swiftly tucked me underneath him. He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear and cradled my cheek. His thumb rubbed sensuously, comforting, against my skin. I nearly purred as I moved closer and sought his touch.

"So what?" he asked and flashed a blinding smile.

"What?"

"Are you my…girlfriend?"

My eyes widened as panic robbed my breath. This was what I'd been afraid of—this unyielding fear. I twisted away from him and hurriedly dressed.

"What—." Bryce cursed and leapt for the door just as I turned towards it.

He got there first and twisted between me and my exit.

"Stop it," Bryce snapped and pushed me back. He held firm in front of the door. "We were just—you told me that you love me and now you're going to run?"

"That's all I can do!" I cried out, feeling the panic build up with each second, each breath, and each word.

Bryce quieted. He listened.

"It's all…I can't do anymore. I can't—I can't do conversations about us, not yet."

"Okay."

And I was left dazed at the abrupt softening of his voice.

Bryce jerkily nodded and said again, "Okay. I can do that."

The panic subsided and I warily dropped onto the bed.

Bryce still stood, naked, in the darkness and he came to stand in front of me. I met his glittering eyes in the moonlight and closed my eyes as his fingers found the side of my face and tilted me upwards. Gently, he pushed me back down and lay beside me, on his side. He laid an arm over me and kissed me.

Slowly, exquisitely, we explored each other as we kissed.

I broke away and said quickly, "You tell Corrigan, but he can't label us. Okay?"

"Okay." And Bryce quieted me again.

Chapter 23

"My dad's leaving my mom," Bryce broke the quiet.

I twisted and looked at him from underneath the sheets.

Bryce quickly wrapped an arm around me and pulled me against him. "I didn't want to deal with it so that's why I never said anything about it. It's why I'm going pro next year. My mom wants me to take care of the family. She says that we can't trust my dad for money. It's my turn to man up and take care of stuff."

We still heard sounds from Denton's party.

"I really hate that guy," Bryce said quietly against my shoulder. "And I really don't like his sister."

"I'm sorry about your family," I murmured softly and pressed a kiss underneath his jaw. He was so strong, in more than the obvious ways. I felt humbled, but I wasn't about to admit that. "And you don't have to worry about Mena anymore. Neither of those two are going to be visiting me anytime soon."

Bryce sat up beside me and draped a loose arm over my waist. He told me, "She's…she's not right. She doesn't have a base, I guess. I don't know. I just know…she reminds me of my mom sometimes."

That screamed of silence.

"It took my mom a long time before she could walk out of the house alone after my dad first left. Mena reminds me of my mom."

"You never talk about your mom like that," I murmured.

"I never talk about my mom," Bryce said grimly. "Period."

I grinned softly and reached for him. He came willingly and our lips met.

I gasped and shoved him away. "We didn't use protection that last time."

"I thought you were doing the shot."

"Oh." I 'd forgotten and slumped back down, relieved. "Thank god."

Bryce ducked his head and grinned against my neck. His hand explored downwards and my breath caught as he poked and whispered, "I liked feeling you naked."

I laughed, "And that statement is the epitome of our dysfunctional and unhealthy relationship."

Bryce grinned, but whispered fiercely as his fingers found my core, "Shut up."

I did better. I shut him up instead.

And in the morning, my legs ached in ways that had me wondering how worse I would've felt if I'd run a marathon. It was still dark out, but the clock read 6:30 and I could still hear sounds from Denton's party.

Bryce flipped onto his stomach and wrapped an arm around my waist. He scooped me closer in his sleep and nuzzled my neck.

It tickled and brought a smile to my face. I sighed softly and turned to watch him. I saw the vulnerable little boy in his face as he slept. He was softer, without the knowledge that consciousness brought to him and hardened the wall that he resurrected.

I had a wall and my wall was thicker. But I'd told him twice more during the night that I loved him. Once as we made love and the second as he fell asleep. He hadn't heard the second time, but it's why I'd whispered it again. The words were foreign to my tongue and they slid off easier each time I said them.

I slipped from the bed and Bryce found me in the shower.

We didn't leave the room until another hour, but it was a refreshing morning that I knew would be remembered no matter what the future brought.

I needed that morning.

We skipped breakfast and Bryce paid for coffee on the way to school.

As we parked and sipped, Bryce grimaced and brought his hand up from the driver's door.

He smiled tightly and dangled two pairs of handcuffs from his fingers.

Steam rose from the cup in his other hand.

"Oh goody," I said dryly as I sipped my coffee. Neither of us made a move for the doors. We were content to sit with comfortable silence and steaming coffee.

Someone pounded on the back of Bryce's car and Bryce and I both turned to look. Anyone else would've jumped, cursed, spilled coffee, but not us. Years of training for iron restraint kept us cool, calm, and with the bored expressions on our features.

Corrigan hurled into the backseat and threw an arm around each seat as he leaned forward.

"So," he exclaimed, enthusiastic and beaming. "How are we?"

Bryce took a sip of coffee. So did I. And nothing was said.

Corrigan danced his eyes between us, watched, studied, and a slow smile spread over his face, "Oh man. Thank god!"

The barest hint of a smile ghosted over Bryce, but it was gone as I drawled, "Thank god for what? That we didn't kill each other?"

"Nah, man." Corrigan smirked, "Thank god that we remembered the handcuffs. I thought I might've lost our pair under my bed last night."

"Logan doesn't strike me as the handcuff type," I remarked.

"Oh," Corrigan was smug. "You haven't met the real Logan, yet."

"I'm okay with not knowing that Logan."

Corrigan was about to retort as I saw a police cruiser turn into the parking lot. I bolted upright and asked, "What are the police doing here?"

"I thought they were still following you," Corrigan replied.

"Yeah, but…those guys park across the street. These guys—look." I pointed. "They're right here."

Two police cars stopped just outside the parking lot doors of the school. Another two vehicles parked behind them and I watched as Officer Sheila climbed out of the driver's seat of one of them. She looked wary, but refreshed with her hair up in a high ponytail and a crisp trench coat tied around her waist.

"What…?" I murmured to myself as I climbed outside.

I was across the parking lot before I knew it and asked Officer Sheila, "What's going on?"

A frown flashed over her features and she held a hand up, "Sheldon, you should go back to your vehicle. Stay there."

"No. What's going on?"

Bryce and Corrigan had gotten out of the car and now approached us.

"Sheldon, go back to your vehicle. Make sure your friends are with you—they were with you last night, right?"

I frowned. "Bryce was. We left Corrigan at the vigil and went to my house."

She relaxed, slightly, which said something. A person can't normally read a cop.

I felt Bryce at my elbow and Corrigan rounded to stand beside me and Officer Patterson. Both guys were quiet when I asked again, "What's going on?"

Sheila frowned and nodded to two of the detectives that were waiting at the door for her. She made a gesture for them to go inside when her partner, Office Milon, appeared beside her elbow.

Firmness settled over her when she asked, "Did you know Bailey Umbridge?"

Bailey…. "Crazy hair?" I asked.

Sheila nodded.

"Yeah. I talked to her last night at the vigil. She was friends with Leisha."

"What did you two talk about?"

"She just…I don't know. We talked about how fake people were and she…she told me that Leisha wouldn't have walked through the park at night. Leisha had been at her house when Carlos called her. Bailey lived two blocks from Harris'."

"Did you notice anyone? Did anyone watch you guys talking? Anyone that you remembered?"

"Just Bryce. He came and—he was in the doorway. That's all."

"No one else? Anything strike you as odd last night? Like a sense that you were being watched?"

I saw the intense scrutiny in her eyes and I knew she was watching me for a reason. When it clicked and I knew what she was asking, I felt the old numbness creep back inside. Its tentacles reached deep, deeper than before, and it grabbed hold of my organs and tightened its grasp.

Paralyzed, I murmured, "What are you talking about?"

Something flickered in her eyes and Sheila said quietly, "I think you know exactly what I'm talking about."

"He was there, wasn't he?" I whispered, hoarse. "He was there and he saw me talking to Bailey, didn't he?"

She didn't need to say a thing. Her eyes did the talking for her.

"What—" I gasped. "Is she…is she inside?" Dead.

Understanding dawned in Bryce and he shifted closer to me. His chest lightly grazed my side, but he didn't take a hold of my arm or hand. He just stood there.

"Do you remember anyone from last night, Sheldon?"

"I thought I had police protection," I said faintly.

"You do and they were outside, like they were ordered. They aren't one-on-one detail protection. They're on basic watch so they wouldn't have been inside. If you want one-on-one detail, I can arrange that. My men would be your personal bodyguards."

"She's got us," Corrigan spoke up.

"Sheldon…do you remember anyone?"

"No." I shook my head. "I just…I liked her. Bailey. I remember liking her, she was…she was cool."

"Well, she's dead now." Officer Milon clipped out, harshly. He raked his eyes over me, piercing me. His balding spot seemed to have grown, but it might've been the wind that flapped his hair around.

Bryce and Corrigan both tensed and shifted closer on either side of me.

"Back off," Sheila rasped sharply. "We're not accusing her of anything."

They stayed put.

I asked, my eyes flat, "Where was she found?"

Sheila hesitated and Officer Milon barked the answer, "She was found in the girls' locker room. That's what the report said, but we haven't gone inside yet."

"Who found her?"

"Another student. He came early to clean this morning."

"Who?" Corrigan frowned.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Officer Milon's claws had been sharpened. He'd come to fight and he was thrilled to watch as Corrigan riled at his bait. "I know who you are, kid. You've been arrested for car theft, assault, vandalism. You're a nice tight little delinquent that's going to end up in prison one of these times."

Corrigan nearly growled, but he restrained himself, just barely.

"Hank," Sheila said sharply. "Let's go."

"I'm telling you, Sheila. It's this guy." Officer Milon stared at Corrigan, salivating. "What I would do to take you down right here and now."

Corrigan controlled himself and asked tightly, "Who's the kid that found her?"

"No," Sheila bit out. "That's official police matter. You won't be getting the name to shake him down. He's in police protection now."

The morning crowd had started to draw closer and multiply. More and more students, unable to enter school from the other entrances, all wandered and were attracted to the growing throng of gawkers. Just then, Principal Gregory pushed through the crowd and found our little group that had been moved off to the side.

"Officers," Principal Gregory nodded, grave. "Let's have our meeting."

Sheila clipped out a brisk nod, found my eyes once, and left with a final glare from her partner to Corrigan. They disappeared inside the doors that were now been marked off with yellow tape.

Corrigan snarled, "What I wouldn't do to…I want to know who found her. We should find out if there was another note for Sheldon."

Chet, Holster, and Harris all gestured for us as they stood in their group near the back of the lawn. We moved farther around the corner and I saw Braven, Carlos, Becky Lew, Mandy Justice, and anyone else who might've been deemed 'popular' crowded together in a tight pact.

In that moment, I saw that two social classes had separated. Our crowd stood around the corner. And the other crowd, the Grace Bartons, the Teddys, and the Menas now stood in the other large crowd. They congregated in the parking lot, just beyond the barricaded doors.

The gap had widened between the two groups and as we crossed it, I felt a chill down my back. It took hold and wrapped its slimy, wet, and frozen hand around my spine.

Chet gestured to the farthest corner of the school's campus. A side door that led into the school's theater opened. Two uniformed police officers walked outside and Marcus Donadeli walked behind with another two uniforms bringing up the rear. They approached a police cruiser as one opened the backdoor and held a hand to Marcus' head. He ducked inside and a uniform slid in beside him. The door was closed and two uniforms sat in the front while the last cop went to get into another police cruiser. Both cars pulled away from the curb and drove around the corner.

Evan remarked, somber, "It's all over school. Some chick got her number last night."

Corrigan was still watching Donadeli when he mused, "Wanna bet that's the kid that found her?"

Bryce frowned.

I stayed quiet.

"What are you talking about?" Holster asked just as Tatum approached the group.

"They said that a kid found her this morning. Some kid who cleaned here."

"Yeah, that'd make sense. That's the Donadeli kid, right? Doesn't he have, like, eight jobs or something?"

Corrigan lit up and exclaimed, "Sheldon, you can get the info from him. The kid's in love with you."

I shook my head, numb, and took an instinctual step backwards. "I don't want to have anything to do with it."

I moved back again and walked into Bryce. He slid an arm around my waist and anchored me to him.

Corrigan nodded as he searched my face. And he dropped it, just like that.

Becky broke the slight silence and murmured, "I think school's out for the week."

Carlos nodded and remarked, "They'll probably do a community curfew."

"Two students murdered and the last one was found in the school," Mandy noted. "I think they have good reason."

Chantal sidled next to Bryce and slid a finger down his arm.

Bryce's arm tightened around me and he shifted, just slightly, so that Chantal needed to step back unless she wanted to be in my face instead. It was subtle, but it spoke volumes. Chantal registered the movement and masked her irritation quickly, but everyone else seemed to be oblivious.

Another lull settled over our group when I looked up and realized that their eyes were on us, on Bryce, myself, and Corrigan.

In that moment, I remembered with a chill what the second note had read.

Queen of Geneva disregarded her lowly subjects. To the grave they went and more to come.

In that moment, I realized—more than at any other time—I held the crown and reigned with Bryce and Corrigan at my elbow.

Mandy spoke up, and it took a moment before I realized that she addressed me, "So what now?"

"What?" I bristled, irritated at the sudden proclamation of my power. I felt the full force in that moment and I knew that I didn't want it. I didn't want any of it. I wanted Bryce. I wanted Corrigan. And I wanted to be left alone.

That's all I wanted.

And I wanted Leisha's murderer to fry.

Bryce spoke up for me, "If no one's told us what to do, we should all just leave. Go to the Diner or something."

"Or go and get drunk," Corrigan commented, no joke.

"That too." Bryce faintly grinned at him.

Evans spoke up, "Ya'll can come over to my place. My parents aren't getting back from their trip until tomorrow. We could have one more todo dia festival."

Becky grinned ruefully, "Two girls are dead and we're going to party?"

"Do you really care? You didn't even know them," Harris threw back at her.

Becky shrugged, uncomfortable, as she glanced over her shoulder to Carlos, their hands had been entwined, but they broke free at that moment.

What the hell?

"Yeah, well, we care," Corrigan said sharply. "So show some respect."

Harris straightened abruptly and fell silent. He looked away.

Becky sobered instantly.

"But…" Corrigan heaved a sigh. "Bryce is right. There's nothing that we can do and it's not like we're going to have school. I'm not going to some mandatory peace talk and listen to the sheriff talk about buddy systems."

Chet asked, "So what?"

"I don't know. Go to the Diner." Corrigan shrugged and pulled me from Bryce. He started walking back towards the parking lot and Bryce followed.

It was an odd moment and an odd feeling.

As we crossed the separation again, I noticed that too many watched as we left. Pensive, desperation, hysteria, somber, and bitterness filled so many of their eyes as they watched us walk across and get into Bryce's car.

I'd never noticed the apparent social isolation before, not during a crowded hallway as students buzzed from locker to locker, but in that moment…I saw it all too clear and I realized what had been invisible became visible. And another chill upon so many slammed over me. The social hierarchy may have reared its ugly head to create a deadly monster.

Chapter 24

Everyone else was told to go to the Diner, but our crew went to my home. We hadn't been there long when the doorbell rang. I waited, my breath suspended, but I wasn't sure why. I hadn't had much luck with people coming over to my home lately.

Sighing, I opened the door, grateful as the rest stayed in the kitchen when I found myself face to face with Officer Sheila. She was alone, no hatred-spewing partner.

"Hi," I said tightly as Sheila nodded, gravely.

"Can we talk?" she asked.

I nodded and shut the door behind as I moved outside.

Sheila lounged on the porch railing as I sat in one of the wicker chairs. "Quite a morning, huh?"

I just waited. She was here for a reason and I knew it.

Sheila took a deep breath and told me, flat, "He left another note for you. This time, we got it first without your friends' prints all over it."

I readied myself.

Sheila added, promptly, "And it's got your boy's prints on it."

"My boy? I have a lot of boys."

"Not the boyfriend. The sidekick."

I laughed and shook my head, "Corrigan would never call himself a sidekick. You're lucky he didn't hear you or you'd probably come home to a trashed garage or something."

"He gets like that, huh? He's got a temper?"

I bared my teeth, "You know he does because of his history. Yes, Corrigan can do some stupid crap, but there's no way you're going to tell me that he's the psycho stalker."

"Funny," Sheila remarked, emotionless. "I never said that at all. You did."

"It was implied and I'm not hearing any more of it."

"What if he is?" she pressed, heartless. "What if your boy in there is the monster who's killed two girls? Miss Summers was raped. Miss Umbridge was not. Maybe your boy had already been appeased. He's got his fair share of girls, doesn't he? Makes you wonder—why Leisha Summers? Why rape her and not her friend?"

"Corrigan couldn't have done anything that night. He was with Bryce."

"Are you sure? They left the party, didn't they? Are you sure Corrigan was with his buddy the entire time? He could've disappeared for a few moments. It doesn't take long to bash a girl in, move her body, and rape her." She paused. "And he wasn't with you last night."

"He was with Logan, his girlfriend."

"Was he? He didn't arrive with her this morning, did he?"

The arrow found its target. And I had had enough as I lashed back, "You've got two girls that are dead now, three notes, and you've got nothing if you're going after my friend. Some loser did this who wants to think they're high and mighty. Even I can get that and I'm not especially smart about this cold blooded—"

"I think you're incredibly smart and I think you know exactly what kind of person would do something like this. I've been questioning students. You've got the rep for being cold blooded and it makes me wonder—the three of you are real tight. You're sleeping with Scout. Maybe Raimler wants in on that action. Maybe you want him in on that action. Maybe this whole thing was a set-up and all three of you are in on it? Are you?"

"For your information," I said quietly, lethal. "If I wanted to sleep with Corrigan, I would've by now. I'm sure you also got that information from your 'questioning.' I do what I want and when I want. I don't exactly bend to rules. And I will tell you for the last time, Corrigan had nothing to do with this and none of us are in on this sick perverse game."

"But you are quite sick and perverse, aren't you?" Sheila raided my space. "You taunt other students. You taunt teachers. You skip whenever you want. You screw your boyfriend while you're screwing your neighbor. Tell me this, ever done a threesome? How about with your top dogs in there? They're both good looking. The best 'specimens' in school, as one girl told me. A girl with your morals, I'd be surprised if you hadn't."

The wall slammed back in place and I moved away, with ice in my veins and coldness shining from my eyes, "You can think all you want."

"I'm the police, honey. I can make your life hell."

"You have no right and no reason."

"I've got a note with your buddy's prints and I've got the subject that the note's addressed to protecting said suspect. I've got enough for a good solid theory."

Bait. Throw the line. Wait. And let the fish get caught before reeling them in. It's how I played the game and I'd just played hers. Enough was enough and I asked, "The notes addressed to me? I'd like to see it. It's mine, isn't it?"

"It's evidence and therefore ours, but I made a copy for you."

"Can I have it?"

Her hands were empty.

"I don't have it here. If you want it, you gotta come to the station to get it." Sheila smiled brightly and falsely. "Have a good day, Sheldon."

"You switched roles? Thought maybe you'd try your hand at being the 'bad' cop instead of the 'good' cop?" I taunted.

Sheila sighed abruptly and threw back, impatient, "No, Sheldon! This isn't a goddamn game. This is real and more girls are going to die. You were friends with both of them and all four notes are addressed to you. This bastard is obsessed with you and those two guys in there are in love with you. Maybe one of them is platonic, but what if he's not? I find it pretty suspect that a girl like you, who looks like you, and screws like you would make it easy for a guy to purely feel 'friendly-only' with you. I'm a cop, Sheldon. I see the lowest of the low and people can be like that."

I held firm and taunted, coldly, "What a compliment. A girl that 'looks like you, screws like you.' If that isn't painting it pretty, then I don't know what is."

Sheila snorted shrewdly, "Please. You might've deserved to have some parenting, but you've gone past where you should be. You should be a nice little girl who goes to school, worries about getting good grades, and holds hand with her nice popular boyfriend. That's not you and some pretty rotten things must've happened to put you were you are."

"I'm already in therapy. Thanks, though, Officer Patterson," I dismissed and stood up. "I'll tell Corrigan the next time we're having a threesome that maybe he should let up on his psychotic ways."

"If you want the note, come to the station."

"And subject myself to another round of harassment? Sure. Put me down for this afternoon…that's if I'm not flat on my back."

Sheila grinned and shook her head. "I can see why you're called cold blooded, but if this is you running from a stalker, I almost feel for the bastard when he goes against you."

I quirked an eyebrow.

Sheila concluded, a metaphoric hat in hand, "You think good when you're pushed. That's good, Sheldon. Very very good and that's what's going to keep you alive, because he's not going to expect it. Look, between you and me, I don't think it's your boy in there. If it was, he wouldn't be going how he is to scare you. He'd do it worse and I don't want to think that sick. But this stalker, he's trying to scare you. And I'm thinking the more you scare, the more mad you are, and the more ruthless you'll get. That's what you need to survive this nightmare, Sheldon."

"Is that why you said those things today?" I asked, tensely, cautious.

"I needed to know. I needed to push you first and see what you weren't going to say. I read it and I'll back off—for now."

She left after that and I took a moment to cool down. I found the guys playing video games in the media room. Logan was curled with a blanket on the couch. They all watched me as I moved downstairs, but when I didn't say anything, neither did they. They went back to playing video games until Corrigan's phone started ringing. The first call was Chet. The second was Holster. The third was Harris. By the fourth and fifth, Bryce exclaimed, "Good god—what do they want?"

Corrigan glanced at me before he said, "They want to know what to do."

"Maybe we should have a party," I offered, thinking it wasn't the worst idea. At their blank looks, I added, "Seriously. What would it hurt anymore? The freak wants us scared. I say screw it and we should just have fun. Hell, let's do it here."

"Lew? Hunstville? Those guys invited?" Corrigan asked instead. "You know that Carlos is screwing Lew, right? That's the dude that your friend was into."

Maybe I was self-destructive because I replied, "I think we should invite everyone in our class. Teddy. The Bartons. Even Mena. Let's hash out who this loser is tonight, here, while everyone's here. And, trust me, I'll deal with Carlos later."

Bryce straightened.

Corrigan flashed a smile, "Seriously? We could make a game out of it. Like Mafia or Clue or something. Who's the Killer?" He turned to Logan, who'd been quiet the entire time, "How about it, honey? Are you up for a game of Who's the Killer?"

"I think….maybe I shouldn't say what I think," Logan said wisely and looked at me. "Sheldon's the one who's offering her home up. I, for one, will feel safer at my home."

"That's the problem. Girls who are alone are his prey. I say we shouldn't be alone," I argued.

Logan drew herself upright, thought about it, and nodded reluctantly, "Okay. I'm staying with you at all times, Corrigan."

Corrigan bounced to her couch and draped an arm around her shoulders, "Honey, we're not going to be mingling. We're going to be in a guest bedroom—all night long."

"Fine. As long as it's locked," she said tensely and burrowed into his shelter.

"Sweet." Corrigan withdrew abruptly and said, "I'm going to start passing the word." He was up and out the door, leaving a bereft girlfriend.

Bryce ignored Logan's presence and sighed, "This is stupid."

"I know," I said simply. "I'm tired and I'm not waiting anymore. If he's as obsessed as we think, he'll be here tonight. I'm going to hunt him tonight."

"He's crazy and illogical. You can't outwit a person like that. He's going to know the real reason for this party."

"No. No, he won't." I hadn't gotten the fourth note. He wouldn't know that I knew of it. "He won't know at all because he doesn't know me."

Logan sighed and curled back into a ball, blanket pulled over her head.

I stood up and climbed the stairs to my bedroom. I wasn't surprised when Bryce followed and shut the door behind him. He leaned against it and crossed his arms over his chest, "So is this what you're going to do?"

"Bryce." I hung my head. Exhausted.

"No. What'd that cop say to you? This came from left field."

"Why do you care?" I nearly whispered as I lay down and curled underneath the blankets.

"I care because this guy is psycho and he's obsessed with you. I love you. I'm not going to stand back and let you hand yourself over to him," Bryce said fiercely.

I smiled, softly, "You think that's what I'm doing? And it feels nice—to hear you say it."

He stopped abruptly and softened, "I heard you last night, you know. You thought I was falling asleep."

I grimaced, slightly, but rolled onto my stomach and burrowed my head under the pillow.

"Hiding's not going to erase what you said," Bryce said quietly and I heard the lock click into place. A moment later the bed dipped underneath his weight and Bryce moved on top of me, but he held most of his weight from me. He tucked his chin into the crook of my shoulder and kissed my cheek, "This is my favorite position."

"Shut up," I laughed.

He leaned over me and got in my face. "What'd that cop say?"

He had me trapped, pinned between his two arms, so I surrendered and confessed, "He left another note for me."

"Oh." A moment later, "What'd it say?"

"I have to go to the police station to get it." I pushed him off and sat up again. "And she said a lot of crap about how it's Corrigan because his prints were on the note. That's all."

"That's all!?" Bryce followed me into the bathroom, incredulous. "That's a lot."

"She just wanted to mess with my head. It's not Corrigan—" I stopped at the look on his face. "Right? It's not Corrigan."

Bryce blinked.

"Bryce!"

"Sorry." He snapped back to attention. "No, of course, it's not Corrigan. But…the thought has some merit. I mean…Corrigan must've touched that note somehow. So…someone would have to follow him around, pick up a blank piece of paper that he had touched and that's all it would take."

"That could be anyone."

"Corrigan doesn't go to classes, so that narrows the search. And he didn't take notes when we were handcuffed. So…what else has he touched lately?"

"He doodled in Mr. Hankins class today, but that was it," I murmured.

"So who's in Mr. Hankins' class?"

"I don't know." I sighed, washed my hands, and moved back to the bedroom. "This is useless. The cops can figure that out, but I want to know who comes to the party and who doesn't."

Something in my voice caught at Bryce's attention. He stopped and commented, "What?—you don't think he's coming, do you?"

"No." I rolled my eyes. "I think he'll come, but I think he'll skulk around outside. It's what he must've done at Harris' party. Leisha had to walk two blocks so I think he caught her outside. He was probably just watching the party."

"I think…you got a new alarm system, right? Did they install video at all?"

"What? Yeah, I ordered a new system the next day, but I didn't ask anything about video." That was creepy.

"Maybe we should install video output in a few hidden spots?" Bryce suggested. "And not tell anyone and I mean anyone, not even Corrigan."

"We have to tell Corrigan."

"No, we don't. Besides, he won't get mad. He'd understand."

"Why? Because some secrets are worth keeping?" I heard my own words, caught the flash of emotion on his face, and asked abruptly, "What? What secrets do you guys have from me?"

"Secrets that are for your own good." Bryce clipped out and shut his mouth.

A fist pounded at our door and Corrigan shouted, "Put on some clothes and get out here. We have a party to plan."

I threw open the door.

Corrigan looked disappointed to see us fully clothed, but he said, "Everyone knows. I passed the message to be here at nine tonight and ready to party. Everyone's bringing their own booze, but we gotta supply the food, music, and everything else."

Bryce said quickly, "Sheldon, go with Corrigan and Logan. Get the food and everything else. I'll work on that other thing."

Corrigan frowned, but shrugged.

"Fine," I murmured and led the way as Corrigan followed behind, excited. He threw an arm over my shoulder and murmured in my ear, "For the record, thanks for going to bat for me today. You know, against that cop."

I stopped, frozen, in the hallway and asked, "What are you talking about?"

"About those things she was saying, about me being the stalker guy."

"How do you know about that?"

A knot formed…

Logan waited for us at the door…

Corrigan shrugged, "I came up for something to drink after all of us went downstairs. You were out there and we thought we'd give you some privacy, you know—" He sent a furtive glance in his girlfriend's direction. "—you don't like everyone to know your business, but…it's hard not to overhear when you were almost shouting and I was just on the other side."

"I don't understand. The door was closed." And the walls were nearly soundproof.

"Yeah, but…the window was open, Sheldon." Corrigan told me and my world spun about in that moment.

"I reset the alarm this morning. It would've gone off if a window was open."

Corrigan froze and I realized that my own window hadn't sounded the alarm. Numb, I announced, "My alarm system doesn't work."

Bryce came to the stairwell at that moment and our eyes met as I looked up.

Chapter 25

Bryce ordered the third alarm system and watched while the guy installed it. Corrigan and I were sent out for chips and dip while Logan went home to change and pack a bag. She figured she'd be spending the night and Corrigan told her that she was correct, but not to expect much sleep.

We had already gone to the grocery store and were in route to Donadeli's when Corrigan brought it up, "So…you and Bryce are together, huh?"

I looked at him and he shrugged, "He told me. He said that I couldn't label you anything, but…you guys are together now?"

"Guess so."

He nodded. "That's good. That's really good."

I grinned, "So you're not hoping for a threesome?"

Corrigan cracked a smile and shook his head, "Nah, but I give that lady cop her props. She had to say it and she had to say it to you. Me, it would've just rolled off me, but you—she needed to know what you thought about a buddy that might a hold a torch."

"So do you?" I held my breath, but my eyes didn't move an inch.

"Do I love you or do I hold a torch?"

"Are they different?"

"They are," Corrigan relinquished. "You're the only girl in my life that'll always be in my life. Yes, I love you. If I held a torch—you've always been Bryce's. I knew that from seventh grade."

"You haven't answered my question."

Corrigan started to speak, held his breath, and then said, "Let me put it this way, if there was no Bryce? What then?"

I got his point. "Okay." I nodded.

Corrigan changed the subject when he asked, "So tonight is a snipe hunt?"

I laughed, "Snipe don't exist. This psycho does."

"He needs to die. No one messes with the Queen and gets away with it."

"Don't call me that," I said quickly, startled.

"It's what he's thinking," Corrigan remarked. "If you're going to find him, you need to think like he does. He thinks you're some Queen and everyone else is a lowly subject."

"You guys aren't. He's gone after Leisha and Bailey. If he's going after people who I love, he'd have gone after you guys. He doesn't consider you guys lowly subjects."

"I'm anything other than lowly," Corrigan cracked a joke. Smug.

"Corrigan."

"Shutting up."

As we walked into Donadeli's, Marcus flushed brightly behind the hosting table. Corrigan nudged me and whispered, "He found the body. See if you can find out more about it."

"No," I hissed. "I told you."

"Come on. There was a note, right? Maybe he saw it. Maybe he read it." He flashed a smile, "Hi, Marcus!"

The kid tensed immediately, but he replied back, terse, "Raimler."

"I'm going to go sit…and wait for my drink."

"I'll put your orders in," Marcus mumbled automatically.

"No, no," Corrigan stopped him, charmingly. "Stand. Talk to Sheldon. We can wait. We're in no hurry."

I snorted in disbelief, but I murmured, quietly, "Hi, Marcus,"

He flushed again and fidgeted, "How are you, Sheldon?"

"I'm okay." I shrugged. "As good as can be with some loser killing people, you know."

"Yeah…"

"How are you? Everyone's saying that you're the one who found Bailey Umbridge this morning."

He gulped and looked away, but his fidgeting worsened.

I took pity, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you or anything."

This was such a rarity for me. For some reason, I took pity on the social defect. I have no idea why…

He looked back up, surprised and cautious, but I gestured towards Corrigan, "I'm throwing a party at my place tonight. We were wondering—I was wondering if we could order three Party Packs and get them delivered to my place?"

"Uh…sure." He blushed again and busied himself with the cashier. "Do you, um, do you want anything else?"

"I think Corrigan wants to actually eat here. I'll pay for the Party Packs now and Corrigan's order with two pops."

He rang the total and stammered, with another blush, "I can get you a free order of breadsticks, if you'd like…?"

"Sure. Thanks, Marcus." I smiled kindly and moved to our table.

Corrigan lifted an eyebrow and I shook my head. "He didn't want to talk about it. I can sympathize."

Marcus brought over the drinks quickly, along with the breadsticks, and Corrigan flashed a smile. "Thanks, man."

Marcus stood, uncertain what to do, but Corrigan had already hunched over his food and drink.

"Thanks, again," I murmured and Corrigan swiveled in his chair as the social defect left.

"What?" I asked.

"What? Are we nice now?"

"I kinda feel bad for him. He works eight jobs. He puts up with our abuse and he found someone dead…I feel for him."

Corrigan snorted and dramatically checked his forehead, "Am I sick? Or are you sick? Or…is this what the new Sheldon's going to be like?"

"New Sheldon?" But I didn't want to know.

"Yeah. The one in touch with her feelings, saying things like 'I love you.'"

Abruptly, I announced, "Bryce is leaving."

"What? No, he's not."

"Yes, he is. His parents are divorcing so he's skipping college and going straight to the pros. He has to support his mom and family, I guess."

"What?" Corrigan froze in his chair.

"Yeah."

"I mean…where? When?"

"He's not playing soccer anymore. They don't want him to play and get hurt before their trainers can work with him. I don't know where he's going, but he's leaving."

"That….that sucks!" Corrigan bit out and shoved back his chair. "Come on!"

Bryce and Corrigan rarely fought, in fact—I've never seen them fight, but as I saw the fury in Corrigan's clenched jaw, felt my own fury—I knew a fight was brewing.

Marcus was left in our trail as the door shut behind our heels. He stood with Corrigan's food in his hands when we hurried through the parking lot. Corrigan reversed the car and ate up the road until he turned into my driveway. Two vans were parked with a security company logo painted across and I figured Bryce had ordered a new alarm system. None of that mattered to Corrigan as he stormed inside, located Bryce, and threw the first punch. Bryce immediately recovered and rolled before he hit the ground and jarred his shoulder. He cast a glance to me, saw a mirroring anger, and immediately said, "Okay. You know."

Corrigan grunted and threw another punch.

Bryce dodged this one, swiveled underneath his arm, and grabbed him in a headlock.

"Get off me!" Corrigan ducked his shoulder and threw Bryce across the room.

The guys all scattered out of the way. The security men stood cautious and I was even further annoyed when I saw that Becky Lew had already arrived. Mandy stood just behind her, but everyone was captivated by their two kings going at it.

"You're such a coward," Corrigan spat out.

"I'm a coward?" Bryce called back in disbelief. "Because I'm taking care of my family? Because I'm leaving you guys and sacrificing…"

Corrigan punched again, but Bryce evaded and rolled on his heels. He waited.

Corrigan taunted, "You're scared and you're heeling to your mother. Yeah—that's a coward to me."

Anger flared in Bryce and Corrigan knew he'd overstepped the boundaries—at least in public. It was a different matter in private, but Corrigan knew to never call Bryce and myself 'scared' or a 'coward' in public.

Corrigan choked off, glanced at me, but Bryce caught him with his first punch.

After that—no words were shared, just punches.

"Are you going to stop this?" Becky asked me. Mandy nodded, "They're trashing your house."

I shrugged, "Not the first time that's happened." Why would I want to keep that pleasure from someone else?

Becky rolled her eyes and griped, "That's just like you. Your two best friends are going at it, and the only person who could stop it, just stands back and watches. Do you have any feelings at all?"

Mandy sucked in her breath, but remained silent.

I swiveled on my heel to face her squarely and asked, eyebrows arched, "Excuse me?"

"You heard me," she clipped out, but some of her bravery had dissipated.

"Say it again," I taunted. Ready.

"I…I don't know why everyone worships you so much. I get it with Corrigan and Bryce. They're hot and funny and…loyal, apparently, but god—you're so cold to everyone."

"They're family. We're all family," I retorted as Bryce slammed Corrigan against the wall.