"That's just…of course, you'd say that," Becky bit out, hands on hips.

I shifted to my hip and asked, "Where's your lover boy? You know, the one that's only screwing you because he's got some serious guilt over Leisha's death. That's pretty pathetic, you know. You're pretty pathetic. The guy's messed up with guilt."

"He only called her because of you. Carlos didn't like Leisha, but he thought that you liked her so he was going to try. Can you believe that? A guy will date a girl if he thinks that's what you want. I just can't get over it. Do you have some magical spell that you just weave over these morons?"

And the two biggest morons had just splintered my coffee table.

A sudden thought came to mind and I checked to see where the booze was. I calmed a little when I saw it was safe so I turned back to Becky, "Is this what this really is? Jealousy? How lame can you get?"

Mandy sighed and murmured, "They're going to break your flat screen."

I glanced back so I didn't see Becky's hand slap across me.

Stunned, I looked back and saw she had balled her hands into fists and was one breath away from pouncing on me.

For the most part, girl fights were lame. The hair was pulled, a few slaps with open palms, and hateful insults were always cursed.

Mandy caught the delight in my face and stepped back, "Oh god."

The guys sucked in their breaths, a collective gasp, and my hand curled into a fist as I let loose with a roundhouse.

Becky fell back, stunned, and I shifted to the back of my heels.

I could like this, I could like this a lot.

From the floor, Becky looked up, stunned, and with a hand to her jaw before she rushed me.

I easily dodged, caught her hair, and slammed her to the floor.

The guys were delighted, but I was ready for her to swipe at my feet, which she did.

I jumped out of the way and warned her, "You don't win against me, ever. You're not going to win this one either."

"I am so sick and tired of you—" I saw the open palm coming and nearly rolled my eyes at the tortoise speed, but I caught it and twisted her arm behind her back.

"What are you so tired of? That I don't care while all you do is care? Maybe you should stop caring so much and just be yourself, Lew. You might find life a lot easier." I think it was her cry of pain as I twisted her arm again that caught Bryce and Corrigan's attention. Bryce had a hand to Corrigan's shirt, but both stopped, looked over, and immediately surged my way.

Bryce lifted me free while Corrigan swooped to keep Becky in place.

I didn't even fight Bryce's arm as it circled my waist and lifted me off my feet. I just laughed at Becky and said, "That was fun."

"Shut up," she snarled around from Corrigan.

"I'd like you a lot more if you were just honest."

"I am being honest. I hate you," she spewed back.

"See," I grinned. "I kinda like you now." Bryce had started to carry me upstairs, "I think this fight was good for us."

I caught a few amused grins from the guys, but Mandy just looked resigned to what was coming next.

Bryce locked my bedroom door behind us and set me on my feet. And I knew that meant the real fight was about to start. I backed up, hands in the air, and started, "Look, Corrigan is your best friend and he deserved to know. What do you expect? I'm not going to talk to my best friend when the guy I love is leaving me—"

Bryce slammed his mouth against mine, picked me up, and then slammed me on the bed with him on top.

I eagerly wound my legs around him and hung on.

Chapter 26

The party was in full swing by the time we emerged.

Holster greeted us, grinning like a mad man and a beer in each hand. "That was awesome!"

I chuckled and took a drink.

"We should have parties here all the time."

Evans came over and threw an arm around my shoulder, "Man, I can't ever beat that pre-party warm-up. Not only one fight, but a girl-fight too! You already made this party. It could be lame for the rest of the night and it's still going down in history."

Chet materialized from the crowd and informed us, "Corrigan finished the alarm system stuff. It's all turned off for the night, since, you know—closed doors don't go with parties."

Tatum pushed his way through the crowd and said, "Corrigan's downstairs with his girl. Lew took off, but she'll probably show up with her boy and Locke."

"They dare to crash my party?" I laughed.

"Apparently anything goes with your parties," Tatum laughed.

Evans added, still grinning, "This party rules."

"And some losers showed up. We kept them outside," Holster spoke up.

"I want them to come," I murmured, suddenly somber. "I want them all."

"As long as they're not that psycho killer, right?" Tatum laughed and scanned the crowd. At our grave silence, he looked back, saw my face and sighed, "Oh no."

"Don't get drunk then," Chet murmured and handed his full bottle to someone passing behind him.

"Don't get drunk at all," Bryce said instead and the rest of the guys grimaced, but handed their beer away.

"Seriously? That's what this party is for?"

The doorbell rang and someone exclaimed, "Food's here!" The Party Packs were taken out of Marcus' hands and brought inside where they were immediately attacked. I'd already paid, but I grabbed a five dollar bill and pushed my way to Marcus' side. "Here you go."

He took his tip and smiled faintly, "You really are having a party, huh?"

I nodded and glanced around. "You already missed the excitement. There were two fights."

"I can imagine." He smiled faintly and blushed. "Thanks."

"You can stay, if you'd like," I offered.

His eyes narrowed as he searched my face. Slowly, he shook his head and said, "No, I'm okay. I'll be safer if I head home."

"Okay, but really…you can come back if you want."

"Okay." He nodded. "Thank you."

"Yeah."

I turned around before I saw the door close behind him. I didn't have to push my way through the crowd as I walked downstairs and found Corrigan nuzzling Logan's neck in a back corner. His hand was underneath her skirt as he straightened, lazily, and smiled with lust in his eyes.

He was already drunk.

"What, are you stupid?" I cried out and snatched his beer from his other hand.

Logan melted against him and wrapped her arms around him. She nibbled on his neck and I saw that she was drunk too.

"What?" He frowned slightly, but both his hands started to work their way up and Logan's skirt lifted, completely showing her thong to anyone who might've been watching—which was plenty.

"You're drunk and you know what this party is for tonight," I hissed.

"So? I'm sure you and Bryce got it covered." He turned his head and started nuzzling Logan's neck again.

"Oh my god," I snapped and hauled him off his chair.

Logan sat, dazed, and blinked at the open air.

I hauled Corrigan into a back room and shut the door. "Are you demented? Is that what this is?"

"What are you talking about?" He suddenly looked sober.

I sucked in my breath and asked, "Was that acting? Is that your plan? I don't need you drunk and getting it on with Logan at every chance. We're not hunting snipe tonight."

"What's the plan even? Just walk around and inspect every loser? See if they pull out a knife or something? We don't know who or what we're looking for—and I'm betting you money that the police are across the street, watching everything. You are under protection, right?"

"This is why this guy is going to come tonight. He can get close to me without the police seeing him coming. He's coming tonight and I'm going to be ready for him. I'm tired of finding more people dead or getting notes. I'm tired of it all."

"Sheldon," Corrigan sighed and sat down on the bed. "This isn't right. I mean—you threw me for a loop with Bryce leaving, I'm not exactly all clear-headed right now."

"Because you're drinking."

He cried out, "I'm not drinking! I'm just looking like I am. The guy's not stupid, whoever he is. He's going to know something's up when he comes and everyone's surprisingly sober!"

"Logan is drunk."

"So? Logan can drink. She's not a part of this."

"You want your girlfriend to be inebriated when some killer shows up, looking for an easy target?" I spat out. "That's who I'd go for if I was him. She's close to our circle and she'll be vulnerable. And probably passed out by the time he gets here—where she'll be alone because you'll be hanging out with me, waiting for him to show up."

Corrigan hissed and shook his head, "You're a little too good at this game, Sheldon."

"It's not a game. It's my life and it's others' lives. I'm tired of this guy pushing me around. I'm pushing back now."

"…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."

I remembered Officer Sheila's words and felt nothing.

"I'm ready for him," I only said and left the room.

Tatum stopped me just as I walked out of the room and informed me as he glanced at Corrigan, "Yerling just showed up with his buddies. They're outside. Chet and Holster won't let them inside."

"Where's Bryce?" Corrigan asked.

Tatum shrugged, "I don't know. I thought he was down here with you guys."

I found him upstairs in a back room, in my dad's office.

"What are you doing in here?"

Bryce didn't turn around, but opened some cupboards and exposed four video screens.

"What are those?"

"Video output. I wanted it installed because your last alarm system was useless."

"Why? I mean…" Okay. I got why. I just didn't…the why didn't help keep the shivers away. Huskily, I murmured, "Bryce, I don't like video cameras."

"Don't worry. There's nothing that'll break privacy or anything. I just had the guys install them on your doors, like—here's the front doorway, there's the back doorway, here's the other door, and…" He studied the screen closer and asked, "Is that Yerling?"

I moved closer and peered at the screen to add, "And look—Mena's come to join them."

"If her brother shows up…" Bryce let the threat hang open.

"It wouldn't be at my invitation. Trust me. Unless he's the stalker, then he can come."

Bryce grinned and asked, ruefully, "Did you just hear yourself?"

I shrugged.

Bryce chuckled and switched the screens for the last doorway. It was rarely used and it led into the garage from the street. In fact, I normally leaned tables against it from inside the garage, but I gasped as it came onto the screen. The door had been left open and I saw that no tables blocked it anymore.

"What?" Bryce looked at me.

"It's never open. I…tables were there, the lawnmower's in there—that door isn't used because we can't use it."

"Would you have mowed the lawn today?"

It only took one incredulous look for Bryce to realize the moronic value of his question.

"Just saying…," he finished haplessly, but he refocused. "I don't get it. Anyone can walk in here through the front door, why use that door?"

"Like someone who doesn't want to be seen here?" I suggested, rolling my eyes.

"So…oh hell," Bryce swore. "The guy's already inside…what now?"

"What if…the guy is coming for me, right? I mean….why don't we stay put and have him come to us? We can monitor these screens then and sees who comes in and who goes outside."

"Yeah, but…" Of course. There was always a but. "If Yerling starts something, I'm going to have to go down there. I don't want to leave you alone."

"Maybe he won't." And we didn't live on Mars so I don't even know why I uttered those words. I flushed and remarked, "Sorry, wishful thinking."

"That's okay," Bryce soothed and ran a hand down my arm and around my waist. He scooped me on his lap and sat on a chair.

Corrigan said disgustedly, "You guys are just rabbits."

We'd left the door unlocked and I turned to see Logan, who stood rooted in the doorway, as Corrigan moved around us and studied the video screens intently. Logan shut the door behind her as I rested against Bryce and turned my head towards Corrigan.

"Not that I mind, normally," Corrigan relented with a rakish grin. "But tonight is for other things."

I asked, "What are you doing up here?"

"Crowd control," Corrigan remarked and glanced our way. "Your place is overflowing now. What do you want to do?"

"The cops are going to get called pretty soon," Logan piped up with a flush.

I guessed where that flush came from and rested my chin on Bryce's shoulder as I mused, "You have sex with Corrigan and yet—you're too prim and proper to realize other people do it?"

"It's not that…"

"Then what is it?"

"I've just…never…watched…" She blushed with each word.

"It makes you hot, doesn't it?" I flashed a knowing grin.

"Leave her alone, Sheldon," Corrigan suddenly said. "We have more important things to deal with."

"Right," I sighed and stood off of Bryce's lap. "Like how you're not my psycho stalker."

"Right," Corrigan grunted and watched the screens again.

Bryce stood behind me and asked, "What do we do about the cops?"

"They're already here," I pointed out. "They're parked across the street. If they were going to break it up, wouldn't they have done it by now?"

"Maybe. Maybe not. They might just be waiting."

"For what?"

"For someone to scream so they can rush in and actually get a shot at this guy?" Corrigan mused. "We're doing their work for them. They're not going to break this up, not while we might actually draw this loser in."

"Corrigan," Logan suddenly spoke up. "I want to go home."

"No!" Corrigan rounded on her. "That's what this guy wants. He wants people to be alone."

"I want to go home. Now. I don't want to be here. My parents are home. So is my little sister. I want to go home."

"Where you're safe and tucked in bed?" I asked.

"Yes," Logan said honestly. "For whatever reason, you guys think this guy is obsessed with you. Call me crazy, but I don't exactly want to be standing next to you when he shows up."

Corrigan stiffened.

I wasn't surprised.

And Bryce was…quiet. He knew, just as I did, what her words actually meant to Corrigan.

"I'm not leaving my best friend," Corrigan said softly. "You can go if you want, but you have to get your own ride home."

"Corrigan…"

"I'm not leaving Sheldon's side," he said swiftly and pointedly turned his back.

Logan gaped and realized, for the first time, what target her words hit. She gaped again, but slowly, stiffly, found her way out the door. It wasn't long before we saw her on the screen leave through the front door with a friend behind her.

Bryce moved away and I heard the door lock. He slumped onto the couch and kicked his feet on the table as he remarked, "Someone's going to end up in the hospital tonight."

"Or dead." Corrigan turned to him.

"Maybe the party wasn't such a good idea," I mused and sat on the far end of Bryce's couch.

He rolled his head towards me and smiled faintly. It didn't reach his eyes.

"I'm sorry about Logan," I murmured to Corrigan.

He sighed, but remarked, "It's too soon, you know. We hadn't really been together long enough…"

"Still…sorry."

Corrigan smirked and remarked, "There aren't many girls who'll let you put handcuffs on them."

The old Corrigan still sparked.

I saw Bryce open his mouth and swiftly raised a finger, "No!"

He closed it and slumped back on the couch.

Corrigan snickered, "You had to try, though, right?"

Bryce grinned and I knew the two were fine. They just needed to throw a few punches before all was fine and dandy.

Corrigan glanced at the screens and remarked, "Too bad you didn't put any videos in the rooms. We'd get some great porn right now."

My insides cringed, but I teased, "Already resorting to porn, Corrigan? She just left."

Bryce suddenly shot up from the couch and strode towards the computer keyboard that manually controlled the video output.

"What are you doing?" I asked and moved behind him.

"The guys were…just before I got punched the tech guy was telling me that it was weird because there was already a feed going on in the house. I didn't think about until…"

"They didn't say anything," Corrigan spoke up. "I told them just to fix the video where you told them and not worry about it."

"Yeah, but," Bryce frowned. His fingers went to work on the keyboard.

I asked, "What are you doing?"

"Are you a geek?" Corrigan asked.

Bryce rolled his eyes. "Luca has a thing for this stuff. Playing one on one with him—he tends to ramble about this stuff. I've picked up some of it after shooting hoops with my brother for years."

I arched an eyebrow. "That's a nice skill to suddenly come in handy right now."

"Shut up," Bryce snapped.

I grinned.

"Seriously." Corrigan shifted closer. "What are you doing?"

"The other feed is bothering me. It could've been the other alarm system. They didn't remove it. I told them just to use the old wires, because they were already there, but…what if…"

He hit a last button and my eyes filled in horror.

Bryce finished, numbly, "What if…an alarm system wasn't installed the last time…"

My insides hurled as I saw images of myself on the computer screens. In the shower. On the couch. In bed, sleeping…and…my eyes fixed on the bottom screen where Bryce pistoned into me. We were both grasping the bed in desperation and instead of the remembered passion from that night, disgust rolled over me in waves.

"That's the night…"I swallowed, but forced myself to finish, "That's the night…"

Bryce finished my thought, "…of the candlelight vigil."

Chapter 27

I shot to the bathroom and emptied my stomach that had been filled with nothing. I stayed there, even after a tentative knock sounded at the door. Someone shuffled in, saw my ashen features through their drunken glaze and shuffled back out.

I held onto the toilet and rested my forehead against my arm.

I don't know how long I stayed there, but it was long enough for Bryce to have regained control over himself. Or—that's what I assumed when he entered the bathroom, silently locked the door, and curled around me. He rested his arms on both sides of me and dipped his forehead against my back.

Neither of us said a word, but the images flashed through me. I saw every single time where I had thought my home was private, where I was alone. And everytime my stomach rolled from the violation.

"Did…," my voice cracked. "Did you guys stop the feeds?"

Bryce heaved a deep breath and said, "No."

It took me another moment before I was able to formulate a rational response, but I asked, "Why not?"

"Because…" I wasn't the only one fighting for composure. Bryce trembled, just barely, but he managed out, "Corrigan called Hoodum. He's got a technical guy that might be able to follow this feed to wherever it's going."

My throat dried.

"Are you saying…this stuff could get leaked to Hoodum?" I asked.

"No. Hoodum won't do anything with it. Corrigan will make sure and Hoodum's already agreed. The guy's supposed to just follow it back to where it's transferring somewhere and that's it. He's supposed to find the address and hand it over."

"How can we be sure? Not a lot of trust going on with me."

"Because…we don't know, but we both know that Corrigan will kill Hoodum if this is leaked."

I rested my forehead on my arm and Bryce scooted closer behind me. His arms tightened and he rested his head in the crook of my shoulder. I felt him breath my neck when he murmured, "He's gonna fry. You know that."

I sighed, but it didn't help.

"He's already seen…" So much. Too much. "Can…" A worse thought came to mind. "…was there sound?"

"No," Bryce whispered in my ear.

So he didn't hear everything, not everything…

"God," I choked out again.

Bryce took a deep breath, "If…"

"Don't!" I said sharply and shoved him off. I stood up, suddenly fed up with feeling the victim. "I want to know who this guy is and I'm going to kill him before the police get here."

Bryce stood, slowly, and watched me tentatively. Cautious. He reminded me, "They are parked outside."

"I know." We'd just have to get around it.

I led the way back into the small room and saw Corrigan bent over the computer keyboard with another guy speedily punching the buttons. Both of them glanced up, caught our gaze, froze for a moment, and then returned to their work. I stood in front of the screens and watched. I wanted each image branded into me. I wanted to see what he'd done to me when I was going to do what I needed to do, to him.

Bryce kept his eyes on me, but he circled beside Corrigan.

Both glanced every now and then to me, but they always shifted back to the tech's heart-pounding race to trail the feed before any more damage was done.

I glanced around and spotted the remote. Lifting it up, I changed the channels. More and more images replaced the ones already there of me. They were all of me, at different times. I was just dressing in one. Another—I was putting make-up on. A third, I was just sitting on the couch, staring at nothing. And then…Bryce and I were in the shower. I was straddling Bryce. Bryce was on top of me, behind me. Sometimes we were wrapped around each other, talking, laughing, or arguing. One screen was of us fighting. No words were heard, but it was evident. It started, we fought, and then it replayed immediately so just our fight was being watched.

And still…I changed the channels again.

This time, one screen was Bryce and myself again, but Bryce reached inside my nightstand and froze. I looked puzzled and the shot repeated to the beginning where we were kissing, starting to undress, and Bryce would always reach for the condom, but freeze as his hand found the gun instead. The screen image never let the gun be shown.

And then…I must've made a sound because Bryce and Corrigan both looked over, saw my eyes riveted, and trailed to a camera that had been placed in the garage. I was pressed against the wall by Denton. The camera saw everything. Denton's jeans sagged, the thrusting, how I gasped against the quick onslaught, and then how Denton helped me finish. Just as the door closed behind him when he left, the image repeated again for us to watch the entire thing over and over again.

Bryce clenched his jaw, but turned back and snapped at the tech. to finish working.

I met Corrigan's gaze and saw sympathy in that moment. Any other time, any other person, I would've lashed at them. I didn't need anyone's sympathy, but it was Corrigan. The sympathy was replaced with a hardening and I knew Corrigan wanted to beat this guy just as much as myself and Bryce.

I left suddenly, ignored the sudden calls from Bryce and Corrigan and swept into my room.

I hurried to my nightstand, reached inside, and heaved a breath of relief as my fingers found the cold metal of the Colt.45.

Instead of leaving it, I tucked it into my pants and left again.

This time, I moved through the house and headed towards the garage.

A few of the guys tried to stop me, but I ignored them like I'd ignored Bryce and Corrigan. As I cleared the garage, Yerling, Mena, and a few other straightened abruptly at my sudden appearance.

Mena remained quiet, but Yerling smiled, smug, and threw the first taunt. "Come to beg, Sheldon?"

"Come to die, Yerling?" I threw back.

The frown was there, slightly, but it was replaced with malicious amusement and then…just wariness.

I tilted my head and mocked, cruelly, "This isn't the Yerling that promised me it'd be you and me one of these nights." I moved closer and pressed, taunting, "What happened to that brave little boy? Did he get beat up one too many times? Does he no longer have some balls? Or maybe you do, maybe you're the one who's doing all of this?" I wanted that. I wanted him right in front of me. I wanted a target, finally.

"You might want to watch it," Yerling flashed a growl, but shook his head and moved a step back.

Mena stood just at my right, so I attacked her instead, "What happened to you? It seemed like you turned crazy overnight."

Mena smiled sadly and remarked, "You know, I actually just wanted to be your friend." Mena added, not unkind, "That's all I really wanted, but…I learned my lesson. We all learned our lesson not to mess with you, Corrigan, and Bryce. You guys don't need anyone else, just each other. It's…sad, really."

Everything she said wasn't untrue.

"Bryce didn't like me from the start because I could've been the best friend. I would've taken you away from him—or I'm sure that's what he thought. And you know what pissed me off the most—you liked me, Sheldon. You actually did, but you listened to them even though they were so wrong about me." She finished with a triumphant, bittersweet, arch to her eyebrow, "And you know it."

"No," I shook my head. "You gave up. That's what you did and then you started hanging out with this crowd. You make it sound like we're the crowned throne that reigns over the entire student body. It's not like that at all."

"Really?"
One of Yerling's buddies grew disgusted and snarled, "We didn't come to hash out girlfriend issues. We came to mess up your house, Jeneve."

He wanted fear, but he got a laugh instead.

"Seems to be the theme," I said easily. "I already trashed it. Bryce and Corrigan had a go today. You're welcome to it."

He flashed confusion and Chad chuckled, an ugly sound. He moved forward and remarked, "This is what she does. She plays with your mind, laughs in your face, and then she taunts you with her body."

I arched an eyebrow, "Really? Did I tease you? Is that why you turned psycho too?"

"Seems to be the theme," Mena mocked me, twisting my words.

"For all your show—you're nothing, but a tease, Sheldon. Everyone hates a tease," Chad spoke again.

He stepped forward again and I cooed, "Oh—you're getting more confident. Now the real Chad is coming back, makes me wonder where you went?"

"You want to know? You really want to know?" He baited me, ruthlessly, but I didn't care.

I followed the crumbs and took the hook, "Yeah, Chad, I want to know. It's why I asked."

"Your boys made it pretty clear that if I ever talked to you again, I'd end up in a body cast instead of a grave."

That sounded like them.

I shrugged, "We'll find out, won't we?"

He barked out a laugh and shook his head in amazement, "I can't believe you. You're outnumbered fifteen to one and you're still flinging insults in our faces. When do you get real?"

"Are you serious? Do you think you're my big problem?" I threw back, actually enjoying this. "You're nothing. You're just a guy trying to be bigger than who you are. If you were really who you say you are—you wouldn't be crashing a high school party." I stepped back and delivered, cruelly, "How sad is that?"

Mena finally reared her head and spat out, "I think you're the sad one, Sheldon!"

"Finally!" I exclaimed with a wide smile. "I'd like to meet the real Mena, not the façade that you've shown me this whole time." I added, "I am not friends with weak people. If you want to be my friend, you have to prove you've got some spine behind you. That's who I am, Mena. I respect nothing less."

"I am not weak!" Mena cried out with tears that rolled down her face. She hiccupped, "I just…Bryce was so mean. He—,"

"—because he thinks something's wrong with you!" I shut her up. "Is something wrong with you? Are you fixated on me?"

The guys held their breaths and it was just me and Mena.

Mena finally broke when she bit out, "I never knew you could be so vindictive."

I rolled my eyes and stepped back, suddenly disgusted and tired of weakness.

Another group of students turned the corner at that moment and I recognized the Barton siblings, alongside Teddy and two other guys. One was Darrell—the kid that Bryce and I had threatened to keep him from ratting on Corrigan. Teddy sent me a tentative grin, but he glanced towards Tim and Grace, who were captivated with Mena in that moment.

I stepped further back. This was no longer about myself, but Mena.

"Hi, Mena," Grace said softly with a kind expression.

Mena saw it, twisted it, and sent it back snarling, "Hi, Gracey."

Grace caught the infliction of tone and knew it wasn't in warmth. She still held her head high and said calmly, not afflicted, "I was wondering how you were. You haven't returned my phone calls."

"Are you serious?" Mena laughed, caught my gaze, and stopped short.

To tell the truth—I was mystified. I watched as Grace smiled, still, and commented, "My mom really liked meeting you. She was wondering if you'd come for dinner Sunday evening?"

"Are you…demented?" Mena asked harshly.

Grace still stood before her and replied, "No. We're having spaghetti. I know, I know. It's kinda a lame meal, but I like to stir the noodles. If you come, we could watch a movie afterwards."

"And brush each other's hair?" Mena taunted.

"No," Grace said simply. "I know you think I'm a nerd."

"Mena!" A shout sounded across the yards and Mena groaned.

Denton darted across the separating lawns, frowning fiercely and he stopped just short of the crowd. Denton's gaze traveled to me, stopped short, and his jaw clenched one more time before he spat out, "We're going, Mena. Now!"

"No."

"Yes." And Denton grasped her arm, but she wrenched it away and scurried towards Yerling.

"No! Go order Kari around. I'm tired of hearing your orders," Mena said hotly.

"Mena. Now," Denton clipped out.

"No!"

"I'm tired of this. If you don't stop it, you'll—"

"What?" The younger sister cut off her older overpowering brother, defiantly. "What? You'll do what? I'll do what?"

"You'll go back," he said quietly as the fight left him. "I've done what I could, but you're spiraling out of control again. You're off your—"

"My psychotic meds?" Mena provided for him, angrily.

"Where will you go back?" I asked and pushed from the wall. A path cleared for me and Mena bit her lip as she glanced towards me. "Where were you—really?"

Denton sighed and murmured, "Mena."

"No!" She said sharply.

"Mena. Please."

She abruptly shrieked, "You didn't want me to be friends with her because she was yours! You just didn't want to share her."

An ugly taste formed in my mouth as I heard her cries as she continued, "I just wanted to be her friend, but you couldn't handle that. And, surprise surprise, when I'm not—you're over here the first chance you got. And you were back here last night. I saw you. You showed up because you're in love with her!"

Denton didn't say anything, but he looked devastated as he heard his little sister's illogical ramblings. It was almost as if his worst fear had come to life before his eyes, he'd fought so hard, and it had still happened.

"It wasn't even like that, Mena," I spoke up. "He just didn't want you….to become like me."

"I…," Denton spoke up. "You'd been fascinated with her for so long, Mena, and I knew that you wanted to be like Sheldon, but…you can't handle her life. She's tough, she's…"

I stepped closer and added, "Not who your brother wants you to become."

Denton flashed a grateful look in my direction as he said further, "I just…wanted you to be you, Mena. You have a hard time doing that. With all the therapy and meds, I was just worried that you'd cling to someone's world that wouldn't be the most healthy for you."

"I'm not sick, Denton."

"Yes, you are!" He swallowed tightly, but said again, "You are sick and you have to go back to the group home."
"Denton!" Mena cried out, horrified.

He'd spilled the secret. I saw the instant horror and regret that flashed in Denton, but it was already said. They were words he couldn't take back.

Bryce rounded the corner that moment and quickly found me.

Denton shifted back a step.

And Chad instantly readied for a fight.

Mena didn't see any of it. I could see that her brother's voice still sounded in her head.

And then Bryce grasped my arm and said quietly, "Let's go."

Chapter 28

Bryce yanked me behind him and we slipped through the garage, through the opened door that shouldn't have been opened. Corrigan found us that instant and called out from the other doorway I usually took into the house, "Hey, we got something."

Corrigan led the way, Bryce followed behind, and I was about to step through until I found myself blinking at Denton's face.

He hauled me back, slammed the door, and locked it tight.

Bryce and Corrigan both shouted instantly and pounded at the door.

"Denton," I said quietly.

He ignored me and called through, "I just want to talk. That's it. You can have her back in ten minutes, okay?"

The door that connected the garage to the door rattled and then the fists abruptly stopped.

"They're going to my car to get my garage-door opener," I murmured.

Denton swore and raked a hand through his movie star hairstyle.

"What is up with them? They're so protective of you."

"Mmm," I cocked an eyebrow. "Kinda like an…older brother?" Except Bryce wasn't. And Corrigan wasn't….not really.

I was going to stop thinking about that.

"Whatever. They're obsessed," Denton dismissed, irritated.

"They're being my friends," I pointed out.

"I get that Mohawk guy. Mena said that he's your boyfriend or something like that."

"He was not happy to see you last night."

"I figured that out when I was shoved out the door." Denton sighed and leaned beside me against my mom's Chrysler.

"Well…to be fair…you did interrupt something pretty intense that night," I mused with a small thrill as I remembered the rest of that night.

"Look…" And the reason for his sudden arrival was about to be announced.

I held on with no excitement, I had no room for that anymore. "What do you want?" I asked flatly.

Denton grinned and ran another hand through his hair.

"If you have a pretty gala for tonight, you're going to have to call your hairstylist again. Your hair's gone dead."

Denton grinned again, but shook his head. "I didn't come—you make it so easy to flirt and I just instinctually want to hit on you."

"Free champagne, right?" I teased and I knew a sparkle shone in my eyes. I liked being called champagne. I made a note to remind Bryce of that fact, just not who made the reference.

"No, I came because of Mena."

"Where is she?"

"She's at home. I think most of their friends took off."

Wow. They really had come to vandalize the house, not to kill anyone. Shocker, but not a relief.

Denton started, warily, exhausted, "I'm…the truth was that she left a group home because she turned eighteen. They thought she was good enough to come home, but I wasn't too sure about that. I made the mistake of telling her about our neighbor, about the 'free champagne' that I got that night and…Mena just grabbed that, I don't know. I don't know why. She just…I mean, you and me—that happened awhile ago, you know, but Mena idolized you for so long. She thought you were cool, sophisticated, and suave. You name anything worth aspiring for and you were it for her. She got a picture of you and that sealed the deal. She was coming home and she was going to be friends with Sheldon Jeneve."

"What's wrong with her?"

"There's nothing really wrong with her, but…she witnessed some trauma when she was younger and I think it altered who she grew up to be. Mix in some fancy neurotransmitter language and poof—the psychiatrists gave us a handy mental diagnosis for her."

"What is it?"

"Does it matter?" Denton asked, more to himself than towards me. He shook his head, saddened, "It's just a label that she got slapped with. That's all the therapists look at for them to figure her out, but…she's more than some psychological assessment that was dictated by some graduate intern."

"I think if I got my assessment done, they'd say I'm a psychopath," I remarked, dryly.

Denton laughed and shook his head, "No. You're fine. You just have trust issues."

"Is that my problem? My only problem? I thought I was just a bitch. Is that a mental disorder? They can write progress reports on me."

His laugh was genuine as he tipped his head back.

It brought a smile to my face.

"See," Denton pointed out. "This is why I want to hit on you and why I want to take you into the backseat of this car and peel down your—"

I interrupted him, before I was tempted, "I have said the sacred word. The 'l' word and I can't take that back."

Denton quieted and asked, "Is it…Brian?"

At my pointed look, he shrugged and said, "Mena's told me all about you guys. It's petty of me to pretend that I don't know his name." He sighed and straightened from the car. "Another time, without a Bryce in it, I'd have you on my arm for every gala and Hollywood party."

"That would've been fun."

"It might be. You tend to have a charisma that can't be squashed. People hate you, but they also love you."

The Queen of Geneva…

I sobered and noted, "So I'm told."

"When you and Bryce break up—call me?" Denton requested.

"It might be sooner than you think," I remarked. "Bryce is going pro-sports. He won't be around for much longer."

"Well…even though I have a hard time believing that you'd let him go without a fight, if that does happen—you have my number."

I nodded and asked, "Is she going to be okay?"

Denton sobered instantly, the flirting vanished, and he remarked, heavily, "This just means that her progress isn't as far as we'd hoped. She might have to go back to a group home and she'll need weekly counseling sessions."

"Is she…can you cure that stuff?"

"Therapy can work wonders. I think so—if the person is willing to do the work. I've witnessed some miracles with Mena so far, but…she's had a relapse that she needs to go through again. We've got some work ahead. She crumbled when she wasn't approved by your two guard-dogs, but she's convinced that you liked her."

"I did." I didn't know why. I remembered Grace and murmured, "She should let Grace Barton visit her."

Denton looked up, confused.

I shrugged and gestured outside, "That girl outside, the blonde. She's kinda loser-ish, but…she really cared about Mena. She even risked her neck and came to me a few times about Mena because she was concerned."

Denton nodded. "I'll tell Mena that you think so."

"And maybe I'll come too," I offered, though I needed to make it through the night first.

"That'd be good. Mena would like that." Denton smiled kindly.

I wrapped my hand in a circling motion and asked, "So is our talk done? Because we're going to get interrupted anytime soon."

Denton smiled dashingly as the garage opened.

Corrigan stood, smirking on the pavement, as a crowd formed behind him.

Denton Steele's name was whispered with revenue and awe and I laughed, "Oh god. I forget half the time that you're a celebrity."

The first rush of fans swarmed him, but Denton threw over his shoulder, "That's another reason why I want to…" He looked to the car's backseat, but Bryce strode to my side and plucked me off the ground. As he carried me inside, Corrigan smiled and shook his head behind us. He followed Bryce back up the stairs. We walked back into my dad's office

I saw that the television screens had now switched back to the doorways. I asked, "What happened to the other stuff?"

"We saved it all on a hard drive, but erased it on the network system," Corrigan answered me.

"What does that mean?

He shrugged and gestured towards the tech, who stood up and walked towards us, "So…what that means is that the feed, everything, originated here and was sent to an

off-base account, this guy's computer. I can't cut the feed that's automatically transmitted without losing the signal all together, but I was able to erase all the data and video recorded here at ground zero. That means that he can have downloaded the same input and still have it at his place. So he can still…"

"Watch us having sex," I murmured.

"Yeah, but he won't get anything new. The signal's still transmitting, but the data is dead."

Bryce cleared his throat and told me, "When you ordered the new alarm system, they didn't install an alarm system. They installed these videos."

The tech asked as he readjusted his coveralls, "Who'd you call for this?"

I didn't want to know why a tech would wear coveralls so I shrugged, "I just opened the phone book and found someone to do it. I wasn't really thinking rational at that moment."

"Do you think it's possible that this guy ordered the break-in so that Sheldon would get freaked and get a new alarm system?"

"It is, but how do you know which system she'd pick?" Bryce mused.

"Sitting right here," I snapped, irritated. "And he'd know. He's obsessed with me enough—I'm sure that he'd know."

"You don't remember what their names were?"

I shrugged, but something pricked at my memory. Something…I murmured, "Williams Alarms? Is there a place like that?"

"When did they install it?"

"It was after the break-in, the next day. I ordered it. They came and installed it. They gave me the instructions and then I went to bed. I wasn't paying attention to them. I went downstairs until they were done. I haven't thought about it since."

"Didn't they bill you?"

"I…I gave them my credit card number. I suppose it'd be on my statement?"

The tech snapped his fingers and said swiftly, "I can do that. Give me the account number."

I did and I noticed that his name badge said Kevin. As he brought up my last statement, I murmured, "Thanks, Kevin."

He smiled a genuine smile and swung around in his chair, "Thank you, Sheldon."

Bryce frowned, glanced between us two, and moved the computer screen towards him.

"Williams, Martels, and Alarms."

"That sounds…not at all familiar," I said. "Sorry."

"How much did they charge her for?" Corrigan asked.

"$35.50"

"Are you serious?" Corrigan pushed his way to the screen. "That's the cheapest alarm company ever. The cost alone would've steered me to another company."

"Thanks, Corrigan."

"It's not your fault. You were all traumatized and stuff."

Bryce pondered, "So maybe this guy didn't work for the company, but showed up and installed all the stuff himself."

"And maybe that's even scarier. He would've needed to take her phone call and forward it to his own phone…"

Kevin pointed out, "He's got the skill to do it. He did all of this."

"Is a window open? I'm cold." I glanced around, but none of the guys looked for an open window.

Bryce caught my gaze and nodded solemnly. The goose bumps hadn't come from the outside temperature. My chills weren't circumstantial. I turned away, and then moved to the farthest couch where I curled my legs underneath me. Bryce and Corrigan sat on either side of me while Kevin took the desk.

"Can I just ask," Kevin started. "Why are you guys doing this? Isn't this police business?"

"Police that aren't doing a whole lot," Corrigan growled.

Bryce murmured, "Someone else died and the guy's obsessed with Sheldon. We're not…"

"I'm not waiting any longer," I said firmly and looked up.

I saw the tech for the first time. He was leanly built with intelligent green eyes and brown curls that gave him a boyish innocent look. That look alone would earn him the nickname of 'Pretty Boy' for the rest of his life. He was young, but when I looked into his eyes—he wasn't young.

"Thanks for helping us," I said again.

Kevin nodded, glanced at Corrigan and Bryce, and murmured, "Mark said to come and help, to do everything possible so that's what I'm doing."

"Mark?" Corrigan asked.

"Sorry." Kevin rolled his eyes. "Hoodum. That's what you guys call him."

"What do you call him?" I asked, throatily.

"Brother." Kevin smiled. "He's my big brother."

"So…you're not…."

"I'm not a part of Mark's stupid gang. I go to MIT, actually. I'm post-secondary by, like, four years." Kevin chuckled and shook his head. "I'm their secret. I help them out. They get me a nice car every now and then, some 'nicer' things like diamonds or…I don't know—I get favors like protection if I ever need it."

"That's gotta be sweet."

"It is, but the cops know about me. One of them, in particular, is on my rear all the time."

"Which one?" Corrigan asked casually with an easy grin. "They're not fans of mine either."

"Officer Milon. He's such a jerk. I swear, I think half the time he's the one who breaks the laws and just tries to set us up. I'm surprised he's not here to bust me. He's that obsessive sometimes. I feel like I have a homing device implanted in my skin or something sometimes."

I straightened and looked at Corrigan. "The same officer who was pretty adamant that you're behind all of this," I poked him.

Corrigan lifted an eyebrow, crossed his arms, and grunted his agreement.

"No way," Bryce shook his head. "No way."

The same thought crossed all our minds.

Bryce continued, "He's a cop. There is no way he would've set all of this up, just to…"

"He's a vigilante cop," Corrigan corrected him. "They can do pretty 'grey-area' stuff, Bryce. I've been arrested enough. I've met a few of 'em."

"I wouldn't put it past him," Kevin added his two cents. "I mean, he might not have set it up, but…he probably didn't share all his evidence either."

"Are you for real?" Bryce snapped and glared at no one in particular. "This is…this is a nightmare."

"He could've been behind Sheila's attack today," Corrigan suggested.

It did make sense. Partners listened to partners. And partners could be coerced by partners.

"He was really nice to me when I met him," I murmured.

"Yeah. He is. He's great to the victims, pretend or real."

"I don't know, guys…" Bryce shook his head again and started to pace.

"It doesn't hurt to go and ask, does it?" Corrigan ventured and held my gaze.

Kevin and Bryce looked at me too.

"They're parked right across the road," Corrigan added.

"I might have an address by then for this feed," Kevin added.

"I think this is stupid. You can't just go up to a dirty cop and ask them if they're dirty," Bryce cried out.

"That's exactly what you do," Corrigan disagreed. "You don't listen to what they say. You listen to how they act, what they don't say. That's how you know."

"This is stupid!"

"No. This is the best lead we've got."

"Guys." I stood between them.

"You're not going out there with Sheldon," Bryce said firmly.

"What?" Corrigan asked, tensely. "You don't trust her with me?"

Bryce froze in place.

I stood between the two, stiff as a board.

"Guys…" I murmured. This would not end well.

Chapter 29

"Are you insane? You can't just accuse a cop of being dirty!"

"Why not?" Corrigan smirked. "They accuse me all the time."

Bryce shouted, "You're not a cop!"

"I protect my own law." He glanced my way and smiled, "And I serve to protect those I love."

I closed my eyes.

"This isn't funny!" Bryce cried out, aggravated.

"Yeah…kinda…okay, not really, but…it's not like…"

Bryce pushed, firmly, "You're all eager to jump on this bandwagon because you have serious issues with authority. You always have, Corrigan."

"It is the anti-social quality in you," I murmured softly.

Bryce dropped beside me and cried out, "I give up."

"Fine. Let's go." Corrigan grinned and extended a hand.

Bryce slapped it away. "You can go, but she's not."

"Oh my god!" Corrigan cried, "I thought you surrendered."

"On trying to get through your head, not on Sheldon going out there."

"No! No. No. Are we twelve, fighting over a girl?" Corrigan laughed in disbelief.

"No," Bryce said calmly. "She's my girlfriend and she's not going out there."

I slapped both hands on my ears and cried out, "Don't say that word!"

Bryce ignored me and said again, "The line's drawn, Corrigan. Step over."

Corrigan smirked in his best friend's face and drawled, "So we're playing who has more credibility? Are you serious? You're pulling the boyfriend card?"

"Not that word either!" I shrieked.

"I guess I am," Bryce said clearly.

"Fine. I'm her best friend."

"So am I—and I'm the guy she's in love with."

"She loves me too," Corrigan debated.

"Not in your bed."

I slumped over and dropped my forehead on my knee.

Corrigan sighed, "You can't be her best friend and her lover. You can't be both."

"Are you kidding? Of course I can." Bryce stood up and added, "I love her and you're not taking her."

"Oh my god!" I burst out. "The crazy people are outside, not in here!"

They both ignored me and Corrigan retorted with, "Sheldon is going to get the best reaction out of this guy. He'll look at her and something will happen. A twitch, a whisker, I don't know. Something. I have to take Sheldon with me."

"No, you don't," Bryce got in his face. "Look, all you need to do is tell him that we've got a trail on this guy's feed. Tell him that we're going to have the address in the next thirty seconds or something. Then you'll see a reaction or you won't."

"Stop it," I said forcefully. "Stop it right now!"

Corrigan shifted back and Bryce faced me. He said calmly, "There is someone out there who's obsessed—"

"And he's likely to kill you just as much as me," I pointed out.

Bryce quieted.

"I did not…I didn't bitch slap Lew to end up hiding in my own house. That's not me and you both know it! I am done hiding, that's the entire reason for this party."

At Corrigan's brief flash of triumph, I squashed it immediately and said, "But I'm not going to go accuse some cop of being dirty or setting this up or even…I don't know…trying to actually find this person by letting me be the bait."

"Sheldon…," Corrigan sighed.

"I am embarrassed that I'm here," I cried out. "I'm embarrassed that…we're insane. I got fed up and instead of thinking rationally and going to the police, I threw a party. And you let me!"

Bryce and Corrigan almost jumped from the accusation, but both merely looked scared—in their tough and manly way.

I cried out, hoarse, "We're a bunch of high school kids! I'm not some 'Ruling Queen.' I'm just…I'm just a girl that goes to school, that wants to keep her two best friends close, and…God forbid!—I even want to, maybe, hold hands in a slightly couply boy/girlfri—I still can't say that word."

"So what are you saying?" Corrigan asked, cautious.

"I'm saying that we're insane!" And then I crumbled and fell back on the couch, stricken.

I knew that there was a brief exchange of looks between Corrigan and Bryce. Bryce won out. He shooed the best friend and computer tech from the room as the boyfriend—still a knee jerk reaction—sat beside me.

"Hey…," Bryce murmured, huskily.

"Don't!" I said sharply.

Bryce grew silent. His hand fell away from my knee. "Sheldon," he sighed.

And that one word, from that one voice that belonged to that one person—this is where my walls crumbled and I curled over my knees with a hoarse cry.

I didn't want to die.

"I'm so stupid. We're stupid." I cursed. "This isn't some high school prank. We're not—we have no idea what we're doing. We're talking about dirty cops. Are you serious?! When did we lose our minds?"

"Probably about the time when you said, 'let's have a party,'" Bryce remarked, ruefully. His hand slid down my back. "I don't think Corrigan ever had his mind, if that's worth anything."

"It's not and you're not helping," I pointed out.

He was joking. I was crumbling and he was joking.

"Stop the show," I murmured, hoarse. "I'm scared, Bryce. This is real…"

"I know!" Bryce snapped. "What do you want me to do? We're already…the party's here, Sheldon! The people are here. They're out there. We can't send them home. We can't…the trap's already been laid."

It hadn't been baited.

"I have to go out there."

"What? No!" Bryce denied.

"Yes."

The trap needed to be baited. We'd brought it this far…

"No," Bryce said again. "This guy, he's strong, Sheldon. He's sick and twisted and you can't go out there. I mean, my god, he killed Leisha and Bailey. He killed them both and then moved their bodies. What kind of sick person does that?" Bryce shook his head again, but stopped when the door was abruptly kicked open. Chet stumbled inside, along with Mandy. They fell to the floor, rolled over, and stared at us, dumbfounded.

"Oh, hey." Chet grinned stupidly and then pushed himself upright. He soothed a hand down his wrinkled shirt and announced, "Corrigan's been arrested. The cops want you to go down and post bail. Some Officer Sherry told me to tell Sheldon that."

Bryce and I didn't even blink. We should've, but I almost expected something like that to happen. So we just stood and traipsed out the door. As we headed downstairs, I was grateful to see that a lot of people had cleared out, but was even more grateful when Mandy said she'd make sure everyone was gone by the time we got back.

Chet stayed behind, but Harris rode in the back. Bryce drove and I rode shotgun with a thick air of tension among us.

As we drew near the station, Harris asked, "Man, which door do we use?"

Bryce parked in the visitor parking lot and both of us got out without a word shared between us. We both fell in line beside each other as Harris trotted behind.

"Guess you guys have been here a few times, huh," Harris said dryly.

"Corrigan getting arrested. Not new."

"Hey," I glanced over my shoulder. "Thanks for doing the bail."

Harris shrugged, "No problem. Now I have a story to tell, you know. I bailed a buddy out of prison."

"Technically," Bryce murmured as he held open the door for us, "This is jail, not prison."

"We can have Corrigan call you from now on. Think of all the stories you can tell then," I suggested.

It bounced off of Harris' shoulders as he remarked, "Screw that party. We should head to a strip joint after this. Drinks on me."

I frowned and seriously wondered about his sanity.

As we swept into the main waiting area, we moved to the front desk where I asked for Officer Sheila Patterson. The officer on desk duty skimmed a cold, unfeeling, gaze over us both before he turned and disappeared down a side hallway. A moment later, Sheila followed behind and nodded in our direction. She gestured for us to proceed behind and we did while Harris stayed in the waiting room. More than a few police officers glanced up, watched, and bent their overworked shoulders over an endless pile of paperwork. The rustling of paper never paused, stopped, or slowed.

Sheila waited with her arms crossed at the end of the hallway. Her buttoned shirt had been pulled haphazardly from her jeans. Her gun and walkie were covered by the tails of her shirt with only a corner of her radio peaking out. Her hair was pulled back in a braid that looked like it had just seen a thirty four hour shift and knew it'd see another thirty four hours before it received any tender loving care.

Her eyes were tired. And flat. Sheila hadn't ever stopped being a cop, but I saw that the deadness stood prominent. It had me wondering what she'd unearthed in the last eighteen hours since I saw her.

"You look like you could use a bed," Bryce murmured in greeting.

Sheila smiled tightly and replied, "Morning."

I nodded, now tense.

Sheila raked another raking perusal over me before she nodded towards a closed door. "You know what's going on in there?"

Bryce didn't answer so I did. "You're interrogating Corrigan."

"You're right." She nodded briskly and moved into a back room. A one-way mirror separated us from Corrigan's room. He sat, bent over a table, his arms crossed underneath him and he looked like he was asleep.

"Care to venture why we're interrogating your friend?"

"Because he's a cocky teenager with authority issues," I said lightly.

Corrigan was unfazed as an officer slammed a file on the table. The table jumped, Corrigan did not. And the cop flipped open the file.

"You know what he's showing him in there?"

I knew. I didn't need to say it.

Sheila answered anyway, "Those are the pictures of Leisha Summers and Bailey Umbridge. Two girls that were raped, strangled, and cut to death. And your buddy in there thinks this is a joke. This isn't a joke."

Corrigan didn't even look. I watched, transfixed, as my best friend didn't even look at the pictures.

"He's not looking," I said faintly.

"He doesn't have to. He's already seen them," Sheila rasped out. "He saw them in person and we can place him at the scenes of the crimes."

"What?!" Bryce spoke now.

"Corrigan wasn't anywhere near—"

"Leisha Summers did not die in the park. She died a block away from your party that night. And Bailey Umbridge, she died in the same block. She wasn't killed in the school. She was found in the school, just like Leisha was found at the park. They were both moved."

"Corrigan was with me the whole night—" Bryce started to say.

Sheila cut him off, "You told me that he was with you 'most' of the night. He disappeared, didn't he? For a little while, didn't he? You told me that this afternoon. You can't take that back now."

I froze and whirled around.

Bryce stood, pale, and stiff. His eyes watched me in horror and he whispered, a choking sound, "I…"

His hand had held my elbow, but I moved forward, a slight shuffling step. His hand fell away and I was now cold.

"It didn't take long for him to slip away and murder Leisha. She was only a block away. He drove her over later, after you guys finished with your 'buddy.' Didn't he? He left again—"

"He went to the bathroom!" Bryce cried out, "I told you this."

"Yeah. You gave your 'friend' some holes in his alibi. That's what you did."

I glanced between the two and pressed, "He was with Logan the night that Bailey was murdered."

Everything was unraveling. Hideously.

Sheila turned almost sympathetic eyes towards me and said softly, "She went home. He wasn't with her the whole night."

"I can't…this is preposterous!"

I felt the string quickly racing from my hands. The end was nearing and I watched, horrified and in slow motion, as it came and passed through. My hands were too slow, too clumsy, and I stood without an anchor.

"You need to wake up about your friend, Jaded. I understand the blinders considering all the things that have happened to you. I understand why you're denying what's in front of your eyes, but open your eyes. His prints were on the fourth letter. He's virtually got no alibi for either of the murders and he's got the criminal history to back up our claims. He's got a one way ticket to being a career criminal with anti-social qualities. And I'm not talking someone who's just unfriendly. I'm talking anti-social personality disorder. Go to any prison and you'll find more than you can count. That's where they go, to prison."

"I…"

Everything was collapsing.

"We've got a psychologist coming in for an assessment. He's going to tell us that Corrigan is capable of murdering two teenage girls. Judges listen to those guys."

"Corrigan didn't murder anyone. My god—he was arrested because he thinks one of you guys know who did and they're not doing anything about it," Bryce said harshly.

Sheila quieted and seemed to withdraw, though her feet didn't move.

Bryce saw it too and he murmured, not missing a beat, "Is that what this is about? He fingered one of you guys so you're taking him down? Does it work that way?"

"You better watch what you're claiming…," Sheila said faintly, but she backed off.

"Can we talk to him?" I asked, a sudden white flag rose in the air.

Sheila glanced over my shoulders, sighed, and said faintly, "No."

"Fine." I nodded tightly and Bryce moved ahead of me for the door. He saw the disengaged expression on my face and abruptly bundled me outside, away from prying eyes and ears. The cold air was cool and crisp. It was exactly what I needed.

Bryce waited behind me…

And then I turned swiftly and punched him.

Bryce didn't move. He didn't react. He didn't even flinch. He knew it was coming.

"You came here and talked to her?!" I exclaimed, harshly.

Bryce knew it was coming. He murmured, "I wanted to help. I want them to know as much as possible to find this psycho."

"And instead, they twisted your words and they're still after Corrigan!"

Bryce didn't say anything, not for awhile. And I held my breath, knowing that was the worst reaction I could've hoped for…and then I heard, faintly, …

"Maybe they're after the right guy."

I sucked in my breath and lashed out blindly, "You did not just say that!"

Bryce backed up. "I'm just saying—"

I turned my back, but my words were lethal, "You did not just say that!"

"I did, Sheldon." He sighed heavily behind me.

"Go away," I said tightly.

"No," he said just as tightly.

"You cannot…it's not Corrigan…"

Bryce sighed, ragged, and said softly, faintly, "I think we both need to face the facts that we don't know who it is…"

Chapter 30

They wouldn't let Corrigan out on bail. He was too important and sacred. I agreed, but for different reasons. As we left, we bypassed his parents. They'd been called by another student, a Good Samaritan that would be rewarded when Corrigan hunted him down in thanks.

Harris dropped us off at home and we found Mandy to be true to her word. Everyone was gone except Chet and Tatum. The house was nearly spotless and all three were lounging on the couches, watching television.

Bryce took a beer for me and one for him before he dropped down on the closest empty seat next to Mandy.

I was exhausted, but I still noticed how Mandy tensed.

Mandy may be more mature than the average girl, but she still had the same schoolgirl tendencies for the average crush. Bryce was oblivious and I was oblivious to his outstretched hand as he waited for me to notice the beer.

"You guys get Corrigan out?" Chet asked.

I curled on Bryce's lap as he answered, a deep timber that reverberated through his chest to mine.

"No. They wouldn't let us post bail until he saw a judge, but his parents got called. They showed when we were leaving."

Chet barked out a laugh, along with Tatum.

Mandy frowned and asked, "What? I don't get it."

No one bothered to explain it, but Chet remarked, "Corrigan's going to love that."

"Who called?" Tatum asked. "The cops can't do that."

"A student."

"Corrigan's going to love that kid." Chet cracked another grin in amusement.

"Thanks for cleaning," I told Chet.

He shrugged and gestured to Mandy and Tatum, "They helped. Mandy got all the sobbing hystericals out and Tatum helped with the guys. And some Kevin guy took off. He said that nothing came up, but the stuff was still running. He said you'd know what he meant."

Tatum grinned proudly, "All the guys helped out, but most wanted to go to Harris'. He's having an after-party party at his place, but I don't think he actually knows that since he was with you guys."

"Don't suppose you two are going?" Chet murmured.

Bryce slid a hand down my back and answered, "No, we're not going." His hand stopped caressing my leg, but he tightened his hold and clasped me strongly against him.

"Let's go to Harris'," Tatum exclaimed as he stood from the couch.

Mandy sighed and stood, slower.

Chet grinned as they left. He stopped just short of the stairs and said as an afterthought, "That Donadeli kid showed up tonight. He said that he was invited, but he took off again. He's going to come back later in the morning to pick up the Party Packs. Have a good night, guys!"

His chuckle could be heard as he jogged upstairs and shut the door behind him.

As the door closed with a deafening click, the laughter was cut off abruptly.

The absence echoed around the mansion and all I heard was Bryce's breathing.

I moved and straddled him instead.

Bryce's hand fell to my legs and he relaxed against the back of the couch.

Our eyes met and we both waited for the other to break the laughter's absent echo.

I broke it and murmured, "Mandy has a crush on you."

"Left field." Bryce grinned. "So?"

"So. Nothing."

He asked and watched me intently, "Or were you hoping for a reaction?"

"No," I lied.

"What are you doing? I don't care about Mandy. You know that."

I said evasively, "Mandy's not stupid. She's kinda cool. I like her."

"She's stupid for being friends with Becky Lew."

"You're stupid for letting her sit on your lap all those times," I pointed out.

It didn't escape my notice that his hands swiftly pulled me farther down. I felt him jerk upwards at the contact and grinned, smug.

"You know what that was about." Bryce bent forward and kissed my shoulder. He trailed towards my neck and settled there.

"I know," I sighed and curled a hand around his neck to hold him in place.

No more words were shared until we were both panting and I had been transferred to lie on the couch. Bryce lifted himself up and said, out of breath, "I don't want to do this here. Not with those feeds still going…"

I shuddered at the reminder, but nodded and crawled up as he moved off the couch.

We walked in unspoken agreement to my bedroom. Bryce led and I followed. The light was left off as I silently packed a bag and Bryce waited on the edge of the bed. When I was done, I turned and Bryce lifted the bag out of my fingers. He carried it and his free hand found mine.

We walked down the stairs, flipped the lights off, and programmed the alarm system. The door was locked and we were in Bryce's car, heading towards his place within moments.

"What about your mom?" I hadn't asked before, but I asked now.

"She took Savannah and Luca to our Aunt Kelly's. Mom called and left a message. She doesn't feel safe with everything going on in the community."

"Her words?" I grinned and relaxed in the seat.

"Her words exactly." Bryce shrugged. "I'm okay knowing that my little sister and brother aren't around right now."

"Yeah."

Bryce reached over and took my hand. I never knew that my fingers grasped his, desperately.

The rest of the way was in silence. When we got outside, it was peaceful. It was shattered when we both shut our doors. Bryce led me inside, in the dark, and we moved into his bedroom.

He waited on the bed as I moved into his bathroom and cleaned for the night. We bypassed each other and then I curled underneath his blankets. As I waited, a tear slid down, but it was brushed briskly away and I sat up to open Bryce's window an inch.

He always liked that. He liked the cool breeze of fresh air.

When he came back in, he sat on the edge of the bed and looked at me. Our eyes met as the moonlight filtered inside and cast shadows across our features, but our eyes were glitteringly alive and we saw the other.

"I can't…" He sighed, raggedly.

I shook my head. There was too much in the air with Corrigan in jail, the stalker still out there, and Bryce was leaving me. He couldn't say anything to make any of it right so I just shook my head.

Bryce sighed again and moved towards me.

Tenderly, he kissed me.

The kiss inflamed and I found myself clutching to him. Bryce shifted so I could lay down and he rose above me. I closed my eyes against the onslaught of pleasure. He stretched out on the side with one leg thrown over mine, proclaiming his hold, as his mouth kissed mine again and slid down. With each kiss that trailed south, I heard his breath exhale. I felt his breath on my skin and raked my hands through his hair.

Bryce lifted his head, met my eyes, and slid back up to kiss my lips.

We made love for the rest of the morning. The last twenty four hours had rolled slowly by and we hadn't enjoyed the night. It was morning when we got to bed and it was still morning when we breathed after the last climax that pulsed our bodies. Bryce collapsed on me with an arm thrown around my waist and his head rested on my shoulder.

He fell asleep and I stayed awake. I trailed a hand down his back, feeling the sweat, and muscles that aligned and gave him the structure of who he was.

I fell in love with him. I had said it again.

I wasn't his girlfriend and laying there, with him breathing for us, I realized that I wasn't going to be his girlfriend. We weren't simple like that. We were best friends and lovers, but girlfriend/boyfriend limited us beneath what we were. We were more and I was loath to take a label that didn't justify who I was or how I felt.

I heard movement in the house and slid out from underneath Bryce's warmth. I pulled on my loose scrubs that hung low on my hips and grabbed one of Bryce's sweatshirts to cover my top. Silently, I opened the door and moved out as Bryce rolled over in the bed, fast asleep.

When I moved into the kitchen, I stopped short in surprise.

Jefferson Scout stood at the coffeepot, frowning fiercely like it was alien technology.

"Water and coffee grounds," I said by a greeting. I leaned against the counter, stuffed my hands inside Bryce's sweatshirt, and smirked. "And then you push 'on', but you'll want to make sure it's plugged into the outlet first."

Jefferson nodded, "Ah. I got it now." He smiled and I saw he had Bryce's smile.

"Bryce told me that everyone was gone," I murmured, feeling slightly foolish.

"Yes, well…" He glanced at me, cautiously.

I replied, "I know about the divorce. Bryce told me."

"Yes, well…," he continued. "It was too tempting to pass up. My wife left town once she heard that I was back and well—my own home without my wife sounded wonderful."

I hadn't quite expected that answer. He sounded tired, resigned, and sad. He didn't sound like a father who was about to leave his family behind, with no means to pay their bills.

"Bryce is sleeping…" I stopped, realized how that sounded, but I finished anyway, "I know that he'll be happy that you're here."

Jefferson smiled, more to himself than to me, and he noted, "I'm not my wife, Sheldon. I know what you mean to my son even if he doesn't realize that I know, but I do. I'm not going to burn you at the stake like I'm sure that my wife would like to."

I laughed, genuinely, and replied, "What are you talking about? Your wife is one of my biggest fans. She prays for me, did you know?"

"Yes. She prays for everything, but I doubt she lives a very Christian lifestyle."

"No, I doubt she does."

He sighed as he finished filling the coffeepot. He pushed the 'on' button and remarked, "You know—I don't think I've ever had a conversation with you before. How long have you been with my son?"

"Seven years." I acknowledged the truth in my response and knew I had kept him away for most of those years. Hindsight is crystal and bitterly true.

"Well, it's very nice to meet you…finally." Jefferson Scout smiled an adorable smile and I realized why AnnaBelle Scout had fallen in love in the first place. He may have been quiet, but he was gorgeous underneath his seemingly nerdy exterior. A businessman and inventor (from what Bryce had told me once), but I saw a lot of Bryce in his father.

Color me biased, but I liked the guy.

"If there's something I've learned from even starting this whole ordeal, it's not to believe what you're told." Jefferson nodded quickly, poured himself a cup of coffee that had slowly filtered through, and added, "Some things don't add up and living with my wife—I pushed a lot of those nagging little things to the back of my mind, but I've paid the price now. She'll take me for everything I have. I'm sure of it, but at least now I have a clear mind. And I can judge for myself what makes sense and what doesn't. Silly, yes, I know, but…I've learned that I can only say what I know. If I didn't, I wouldn't think of saying it at all."

It was an oddly placed speech and I knew that he spoke from his personal demons, but it jarred my own.

Everything unraveled as I heard two of his sentiments.

Bryce had lied. He wasn't working to support the family. His father had enough money and his wife would take most of that from him.

And Bryce had talked about something that he shouldn't have known. He had said, before the police even told me—"He moved both bodies."

Bryce knew that Bailey hadn't died in the school. He knew before the police told us.

He knew and he shouldn't have known.

Jefferson left as I stood in the kitchen. As I stood there and my world had just cracked open, I was left alone and no one saw how I fell to the floor, blinded from my revelations that now screamed inside of me. I watched, suspended and paralyzed, as my hand must've caught and pulled the coffeepot to the ground. I saw it fall, crash into a million pieces, and I watched as the black content seeped across the floor.

The broken glass was camouflaged underneath the dark liquid.

My hand reached out to help myself stand up. I saw the shattered glass and I placed my hand there anyway. I felt none of the pain, but I stood and I gazed in horrified suspension as the blood quickly covered my hand.

That didn't make sense. I didn't understand where the blood came from.

And another hand was there, covering mine as they pushed against the blood, to stop the blood flow.

I looked up, numb, and saw Bryce's ashen features.

Chapter 31

The streetlights whizzed past into a steady constant blur.

I had wished, for a moment, to forget what I realized and to pretend. I wanted to curl up with Bryce, pull his blankets over us both, and sleep, protected in his pretense.

I had almost chosen to forget and deny rather than fight and survive.

I wasn't the innocent, sweet, and helpless princess.

Bryce would be after me. I knew it. And I think he knew it as he stepped aside and let my excuse command our actions. I had pled a headache and time to be alone and he had heeded. He chose to play the game and I bit back the tears as I stepped from his front door. I had wanted him to not play the game and strip away everything.

A big part of me wanted to turn the car, crawl back in his bed, and pretend I didn't know what I knew. But there was another part of me that wanted to survive, that wanted to live and birth fat babies. That was the part of me that kept me driving ahead, but if it had to come to percentages—it would've closed at 51% to live and 49% to die in bliss.

How sick and twisted is that?

I pulled into my garage and hurried inside. Immediately, I slid the locks in place, changed the alarm system's codes, and headed for the shower. And there I sat, naked, chilled from the cold stream, and teeth chattering in the corner. I hugged my knees to my chest.

I stared at nothing and my hair plastered against my skull, but my eyes were flat. Dead.

I never felt the frozen water slam against my vulnerable skin.

I lost track of time and I don't know how long I sat there, but my limbs were trembling uncontrollably when I moved out of the shower and wrapped a robe around myself.

I sat at the mirror and left my soaked hair alone.

The distant chime of my doorbell finally penetrated the haze. I wondered, briefly and faintly, how long the doorbell had sounded, but I ceased wondering when I saw Marcus Donadeli on the other side. He looked nervous and awkward.

I said nothing as I decoded the alarm system and stepped back with the door open.

"Hi, Sheldon." He blushed as he smiled.

I've never blushed before. I wondered what it felt like to blush, to have the capability to blush.

"What are you doing here?"

His eyes lingered on my robe, on the naked skin that showed near my neck. I didn't care. I didn't pull the robe tighter, but I did ask again, "What are you doing here?"

"Oh. Um…the Party Packs." He gestured, haltingly, inside. "I came by last night, but the party was done, huh?"

Yeah. The party was done.

"Corrigan got busted by the cops," I remarked and walked inside with him following.

"He did? Why?"

I shrugged. "I think he accused one of the cops of being dirty. I don't think that goes over too well."

"Yeah…cops can be pretty quick to defend themselves," Marcus muttered.

The Party Packs sandwiches still covered the entire table, half eaten.

I sighed and leaned against the counter as Marcus started cleaning off the food. "You like me, don't you?" I asked suddenly.

His hands paused, clenched, and he looked up, pale, "Yeah."

"Why?"

He said swiftly without pause, "Because you're amazing." He added, "Why do you think everyone wants you?"

"Everyone doesn't want me."

"Chad Yerling. Bryce Scout. Corrigan Raimler. That movie star guy."

"Yerling never wanted me. He just wanted to piss off Bryce and Corrigan."

"What about the rest?"

I gave no comment to the rest, but I did mutter, "Corrigan's my best friend."

"And…" His jaw clenched as he asked, "Bryce?"

I didn't comment. I didn't trust my voice.

"What?" Marcus asked softly. "You guys have a fight or something?"

"What?"

"You look sad."

I glanced to the floor and tightened my robe.

"But you always look sad…," he added.

I did?

"You didn't eat yesterday when you were at the Eatery. You didn't eat…I noticed that…" He swallowed, jumpy. "Are you hungry? I have some food in my car. I could go and get it…if you'd like."

"No, I'm okay. Thanks. I just…I don't eat that often."

"You should, you know." He jerked his head up and down, a self-conscious nod. "You hardly ever eat. Is that…are you, like, anorexic, or something? I…I know someone with that eating disorder and she said she can't eat because she feels all panicky if she does, like she's going to fall apart or something."

"No. I eat when I'm hungry. I'm just not hungry that often."

"Oh." He fell silent and returned to cleaning the Party Packs.

"Thanks for noticing, though," I remarked, kindly.

He glanced back, blushed, and smiled, "Yeah."

I had taken two steps towards the door when I heard him whisper, underneath his breath, "I notice everything."

I turned back and asked, clearly, "Why?"

He jumped and whirled to me. "What?" He looked alarmed.

"Why do you notice everything?"

"Because no one notices me."

"Everyone notices me," I said flatly.

"I know." Another flush and his hands jerked.

"I wish no one noticed me."

His hands stilled and the flush disappeared. "You do?"

"I do. I could breathe a lot easier."

"I…I feel like that sometimes," Marcus confessed.

"Why can't you breathe?"

Call me crazy. Call me out-of-sync or illogical, but for some reason—I was clinging to every word he said. I didn't have the lash inside to remind Marcus that he was a social defect, but then again—I was always nice to him. I just never understood why or thought about it.

I thought about it now.

"I don't know." He glanced towards his hands, which seemed steady and strong now. "Just…there's a lot of bullies, you know, and girls who are mean. They laugh in your face sometimes and they're not very nice."

"I'm sorry."

He looked up, "Why? You've always been nice."

"I'm not nice to everyone."

"Those people deserve it, though. You're nice to who deserves it."

"No." I shook my head, numb. "I'm not."

"You're not nice to fake people, but…you're nice to people who are real. You like that. I've watched you, I've seen you be nice to people who are real, who don't care about being…popular or laughed at."

That was true, but I was more surprised that he knew that.

"So, you've been watching me, huh?" I joked, but I knew I was waiting for Bryce to ring the doorbell.

I was stalling, biding time. That 49% had reared its ugly head.

It took a little bit, but I realized that Marcus never answered my joke. He froze in place, his eyes glued to mine, and he looked like he was about to jerk into action.

"I was joking," I drawled. "Relax."

And that was when the doorbell rang.

I think a part of me had sensed his approach, maybe I felt his footsteps on the front porch, or maybe I just knew how long he would've let me leave before he pursued. Even in madness, I still knew Bryce intimately.

Marcus jumped at the sound.

"You should go," I murmured as I was turning around.

"Uh…"

"There's a back door, through the garage. You can get out that way. You shouldn't go this way."

I walked into the front hallway and I felt Marcus leave behind me. He ceased being a blip on my radar as I saw Bryce's shadow looming behind the glass door.

My heart started to pound. I heard it and felt it and it sounded ominous.

"Sheldon!" Bryce pounded on the door.

This time, I was the one who jerked. I knew it was coming, the force just rattled me.

"Come on. I see you, you're right there! Let me in!"

Still nothing. My feet were glued to the floor. I didn't run, I didn't flee, but I didn't approach either.

"Look—I know you're mad. We can figure it out later. This is about me going pro, right? I'm not leaving tomorrow, okay? Corrigan got let out. I figured—I should be here because he's going to show up pretty soon. His mom called me. He's furious."

It was lies. All lies. And even the slight hitch of emotion in his voice was perfectly placed.

The door was securely locked. I reached up, numb, and coded in the alarm. I called out, huskily, "You killed those girls."

Bryce froze on the other side. He didn't say anything for a moment. And then, a choked, "No. What are you talking about?" He was desperate now. "Let me in, Sheldon! We can talk about this."

"You killed Leisha and you killed Bailey. And…"

He was going to kill me. I knew it in that moment, but I still stood there—frozen and paralyzed.

"I didn't," Bryce cried out, hoarse. "I don't…where is this coming from? I didn't kill anyone."

"You knew that Bailey hadn't died in the school. You knew that before Sheila told us. And you knew that Leisha hadn't been killed in the park. I knew that, but I never told you that. You were the only one who knew Bailey had talked to me. No one else was watching. It was only you!"

He went utterly, perfectly, absolutely still.

And then, a sigh of surrender left him and instead of hearing his maddening confession, I heard a different take, "I went to the cops yesterday. I knew that stuff because I talked to Officer Patterson. I talked to Sheila. She told me that stuff. And I saw your fourth note. It said on there that they were moved and he was going to move you too."

"You went down there to frame Corrigan."

That pissed me off.

"I went…I went to Sheila and I told her about the party last night. I just…I wanted you to be safe and I'm smart enough to know that this should've been handled by the cops from the start. That's why I went down there. I told them about the videos, about the second alarm system, about…I told them everything because this is their job. This isn't what we do. I just…" He sighed again and leaned his head against the door. I heard his muffled honesty ring forth, "I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

It was the right words, the right time, and the right person.

I wanted to believe it, but… "How can I believe you?" I cried out, hoarse. "I can't believe anything anymore. Corrigan, you, who else? I don't know where to turn anymore."

"You can believe me. I'm telling you the truth. God—would I…? I already have you, why would I need to—that's sick and wrong. I love you, Sheldon."

"Yeah." An ugly laugh left me. "I'm sure he thinks so too."

"Sheldon," Bryce breathed out. "Listen to me—go upstairs, to the office, and get the gun. I put it underneath the couch, remember? Go and get it and bring it down. You can point it at me, but please—let me in. Let me talk to you, not through this door."

I turned, but stopped before my feet could move.

I stood there and waited. For what—I couldn't say. It was a weird sensation. How do you turn your back on someone to whom you've professed your love?

"Look—," Bryce cried out. "If you're not going to grab it, just listen to me. Please."

I waited.

"He…he wants you alone, Sheldon. He wants you to be vulnerable. This whole time—it's been me or Corrigan. We've been there, at your side, the entire time. Through everything, through all the crap—my mother, your mother, Denton Steele. Even—even the cops thinking that Corrigan is this dick. This whole time—I'm your best friend, Sheldon. I wouldn't—I couldn't do this!"

"I don't know anything anymore," I cried out, shrill. I wanted to crumble. I felt it inside.

"I know! That's what he wants!" His fist pounded the door, helpless. "Seven years, Sheldon. We've been together for seven years. You've been my best friend for that long, before all the drama and everything that happened in school."

The popularity curse.

Bryce added, "Sheldon…I know you inside and out. Of anyone in this world, I know you the best. I messed up. I'm sorry. I didn't…I was just afraid. I was scared that if I told you that I'd gone to see Officer Patterson that you'd be mad and…well—it wouldn't have been as bad as this. I'm sure, but still this sucks pretty bad."

"Bryce…," I said weakly.

"Sheldon…please…"

I couldn't. I still couldn't.

"Please—of all—god—talk about emotional, huh?" His laugh was weak, but genuine. "Remember when we had angry sex and you told me that you loved me? I remember that. Sheldon, you just run all the time. You've got such a heart, but you cover it with poison sometimes. People have to be immune to poison to be your friend, but—thank god—only Corrigan and I are stupid enough to come back for seconds."

Of endearing speeches, his ranked the lowest.

"You're not helping," I said flatly, but I stood a little straighter, a little firmer.

"I know. I know. I'm sorry, but it's just…you're such a bitch, like, 90% of the time."

"That's supposed to be better?" I cried out.

"Well…I'm telling you the truth. I mean, that's my job, isn't it? To tell you the truth even when you think I'm a psycho madman? Right? It's the truth."

"It's not any better!"

He cried out, aggravated, "What do you want me to say? I'm pouring out my heart here because you think I'm some killer, but I'm just trying to tell the truth. This is new territory, Sheldon. We're not exactly emotional people."

On the contrary…

"Okay," Bryce corrected himself. "We're emotional, but we don't talk about that crap. Up until three days ago, I think the most emotional conversation that we had was when you told me that white bread makes you angry."

My lips quirked at that. Wheat bread was the real deal, white bread was the fake bread.

"I just…" Bryce hung his head. "Go get the gun, Sheldon. Please. Go get the gun so that you feel safe and I can look at you and you can see that I'm telling the truth."

I still didn't move. I wanted to believe him. I wanted so badly…

"Please," his plea was weaker.

"I can't."

"Then…call the police. Take your phone and call them. Just—open this goddamn door."

"You call them."

"I don't have my phone. I left it at home because I was in such a rush to get here after Corrigan's mom called me. I'm sorry."

I pulled out my phone and felt it's smooth contours. I didn't press the buttons, but I didn't turn my eyes from the door. I called out, "If you're lying to me and you're the psycho, I'm going to kill you."

"Deal," Bryce sighed in relief and I opened the door.

His smile was decorated with a few tears, but he swept me up and I didn't see the tears. I just felt everything that he had told me. Bryce pulled away swiftly, grabbed my hand, and dragged me upstairs.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"We're going to get that gun," Bryce said firmly. "I'm not taking anymore chances. We don't know what's going on and I'm not…we're getting that gun." He pushed open the office door. Bryce quickly strode towards the couch. He bent and lifted the cushions as I wandered around to the computer screen.

"Are we…?" I let the question hang.

Bryce paused and glanced up. Our eyes met and he said slowly, "We'll talk about it, but not now. There's more important things to do."

I frowned, confused, and I saw the computer screen. It had stopped blinking and an address stood prominently against the screen. I saw the address and realized I knew the address. That was when I looked up and said softly, "It says a lot when I did think you were the killer and…I wanted to stay with you."

Bryce froze, the gun now in hand, and he stood. His eyes lifted and met mine.

I felt the punch and added, "I even understood a little, and I wasn't actually…I must be pretty sick to still love you even when I thought what I thought."

"You're not sick, Sheldon," he whispered.

"I'm not?"

"No. You're just…human," he finished, saddened.

I bit back the tears and watched the computer screen. I professed, "I don't feel like a girl. I don't feel anything half the time."

"Well…" Bryce laughed, incredulous. "Are we supposed to? I mean, I don't care what you feel as long as you're feeling it with me."

"You're such a guy." And my words were out-of-sync as I watched the address blare at me. Finally, I said faintly, "There's an address…"

"What?!" Bryce rushed towards me.

But I stopped him as I murmured, "It's Corrigan's."

We both stood. Bryce froze and it was weird, like I was watching a blurry movie in slow motion as the office door opened to reveal a furious Corrigan.

Bryce lifted his hand, cocked the gun, and our best friend froze.

I sat down in the desk chair.

Chapter 32

"What. The. Hell."

Those were Corrigan's first words as he gaped at us.

Bryce sighed, but held his arm steady.

"Seriously. Get the gun out of my face," Corrigan snapped.

"I can't," Bryce merely said, firm.

"Bryce. Sheldon. Gun needs to be gone, now!"

The alarm hadn't gone off, but the door had been opened from the inside. I opened the door and it hadn't shut. The only door that could be opened from the inside, without the alarm going off was the front door.

I opened it and it hadn't been shut. That was how Corrigan got in, but…the alarm should've gone off before I had coded it off…I had told him to go out the back. I had waited for the alarm to go off…

And yet…

"It's not you, dude," Bryce clipped out and I looked up to realize there was a fourth presence in the room, a fourth person that had been there the whole time.

He was supposed to have left, but he hadn't…he'd been there the whole time.

Marcus stood behind Corrigan and as I shifted to the side—he brandished a lethal knife in his hand and an insane glint in his eyes.

It wasn't Corrigan. It wasn't Bryce.

It had been Marcus the entire time.

And the knowledge that he had put doubts between me and my friends—that pushed me past the brink. I shoved off the chair, up and fighting, and I snarled, "You little bastard!"

"Sheldon," Bryce urged, quickly, and tightened his hold on the gun again.

"What?!" Corrigan exclaimed, hands still in the air. He jumped from the force of my voice, but he saw that I was intent on something behind, someone behind, and he whirled around.

Marcus grabbed him and warned, "Put the gun away, Scout, or your buddy's insides are going to get spilled."

"Corrigan will live. Shoot him," I ordered.

Bryce's eyes widened, but he didn't say or do anything.

"No! Don't shoot, man! Please—don't shoot!" Corrigan said frantically.

"Shoot him!" I barked with clenched fists.

"Don't shoot!" Corrigan cried out.

Marcus' laugh halted everything and it was a heinous evil sound. It sounded unnatural, but then again—he was insane. I saw it, plain as day, and I wondered how I hadn't noticed it before.

"You didn't come for the Party Packs this morning, did you?" I asked.

Marcus turned his attention towards me and pretended to slice and dice the air. He still held Corrigan as a shield.

Bryce distracted him, "You have no chance, man. It's three to one and I've got a gun to your knife."

"And I've got a back to my knife." Marcus nudged Corrigan ahead, a jerking step. "I think you might have some penance to pay, you know, since you thought he was the killer."

"I didn't—"

"What?!" Corrigan asked sharply.

"Well—I didn't know," Bryce said just as sharp.

"I'm your best friend!" Corrigan cried out.

"I know!"

"And you thought…" Corrigan glanced at me and cursed. "That's low, dude. That's really…messed up."

"There were reasons." Bryce gestured towards the computer screen.

I stepped closer and murmured, cautious and dangerous, "You were here last night."

Marcus held my gaze.

"And you saw what we were doing."

"It was pretty ingenious," Marcus admitted, but smiled victoriously. "I have to admit that. Finding the feeds in the first place was your lucky break."

"And you routed the feed to Corrigan's home, didn't you?"

"Why are you asking when you already know?" Marcus whispered smoothly.

"I notice everything."

I lashed out, "You notice everything, pervert, because you install videos to watch! You don't notice anything—you violate everything!"

Marcus chuckled and relinquished, "The hours I've watched you, Sheldon Jeneve, Ruling Queen and Princess Entwined."

This wasn't a fairytale and I wasn't some dark princess. "Shut up!" I snarled.

"You're so cool and cold to the world, but in the bedroom—that's where you're hot. Passionate. That's where the real Sheldon Jeneve lives and I knew…I had to see the real Sheldon Jeneve. I had to see who she was." He smiled, tenderly, "And you knew, didn't you? I felt it. You knew I was watching and you performed for me."

Corrigan grimaced, disgusted.

Bryce's jaw was locked in place.

I waited and watched the end of the gun barrel. I was looking for the smoke to uncurl itself and to feel Marcus' dead body slump to the floor.

It never came.

Marcus wasn't done.

"You need a lover's touch," he whispered, silkily. "You're left unsatisfied. That's why you sought solace by Denton Steele, but he didn't last. He didn't satisfy you and you returned to him, but he's not the touch that you want and yearn for. It's not his touch."

"I'm going to puke," Corrigan muttered.

Marcus touched the tip of his knife to Corrigan's back and he smiled at me, "You weren't like the others."

Disgust competed with rage inside of me. I didn't know which would win.

"You were the only one who came to me. All the others never came, like I was beneath them, only there for them to walk on, but not you. You always came and you smiled. You were nice."

"Yeah," Corrigan cracked a joke. "Look where all the niceness got you now, Sheldon."

"Shut up," I whispered. I asked Marcus, "What are you talking about?"

Bryce answered instead, intense, "You're the only girl that goes to the Eatery. None of the other girls go there. It's why we go there, Donadeli."

His contempt was whiplash. Marcus wasn't happy to be addressed by his competition and he stabbed his best friend. At Corrigan's sudden cry in pain, Marcus snarled, "You do not address me. You are beneath me."

"Beneath you?" Bryce asked, a taunt.

And Corrigan cried out louder, "Shut up, man. Just—shut up."

Blood had started to drip on the floor. It ran the course of Corrigan's jeans and a small droplet pooled on the wood flooring.

I asked hoarsely, "Why'd you kill Leisha and Bailey? Why them?"

"I was wondering when you'd ask me that and I'd hoped for a more intimate moment between us. Here, with these two, it's not the right time for those answers. I'm sorry, Sheldon Jeneve, but it's not the right context."

Screw context.

I yelled now, "Why'd you kill them, you sick bastard?!"

That was the moment Marcus Donadeli woke up, where he blinked and saw the reality that screamed in his face.

I was the reality and I was screaming in his face.

That didn't bode well for a psychotic murderer and Corrigan took the brunt of his rage.

He slid the knife in further and Corrigan's choked cry reigned against my ears. I'd hear that quiet weep of agony every night of my life, but I asked anyway, "Why'd you kill them?!"

"Sheldo…," Corrigan begged in pain. His eyes pleaded.

"You slice him one more time, I don't care about the risk. I'm putting a bullet between your eyes," Bryce clipped out and stepped closer. His hand was perfectly steady.

Marcus saw that, even in his madness, and he stopped.

Corrigan fell to his knees. The blood's pool had grown and multiplied at his feet. His jeans were velvety red from blood and black from the grime of his evening in jail.

"Why'd you kill them?" I asked again.

And this time, I got an answer. Marcus whirled his gaze back to me and replied, calmly, "I was watching you that night. You wanted her to come to you, but I couldn't let that happen. You had been with him again." He sent a scathing look to Bryce. "You needed to be punished. She was your friend."

"God," I whimpered.

"She walked right past me. I was in the bushes and your punishment had been delivered to me. I knew it was the right thing to do." He smiled. "I haven't regretted it. I haven't regretted anything. It all opened for me."

"That night her house was broken into—did you do that?" Bryce asked.

"No." Marcus smiled evilly, "But I was there. I was just outside and you looked at me. You knew right where I was. You felt me that night. I knew it then. I knew you wanted this to happen."

"…That's the Donadeli kid, right? Doesn't he have, like, eight jobs or something."

Faint, I remembered and whispered, "You work at the alarm company that I called."

"A twist of fate. He was telling me that we belonged together. I knew it then, when I heard your voice on the other line."

"You….didn't find Bailey that morning, did you?"

Finally. A flash of uncontained control. There was a chink in his perfectly orchestrated plan of luck. He smiled, still, and shrugged, "Who's going to believe Marcus Donadeli, the kid who just works all the time? Such a 'good kid, that one is.' The kid who gets trampled by bullies that you screw. No one doubted my story for a moment."

"Someone caught you, didn't they? You didn't 'find' her. You were caught leaving her."

"Yes." He sighed and rolled his eyes. "The other janitor came in early. I told him that I'd mixed up the days. I thought I was supposed to clean that morning, but 'look here what I found.'"

"You're sick, man." Corrigan coughed from his knees. He had curled an arm to hold his bleeding side, but it hung loose and weak.

"Why'd you kill Bailey?" I needed to know. I needed to know…

"Because she talked to you. I watch you, Sheldon. I told you that. I notice everything. I couldn't risk her anymore. She knew more than she knew that she knew. I couldn't risk it…she had to go."

"What'd she know?" I stepped closer.

"Sheldon," Bryce murmured, softly. A heed.

"What'd she know?" I ignored his heed. I had to know.

"Bailey saw me that night. I live between her house and Evan Harris' house. She had seen me go for a walk that night. It was only a matter of time before she realized it and told. She already told you enough as it was. I didn't kill Leisha in the park. That's just where I enjoyed her."

"You're lying!" My words were acid, sharp to the touch. "There's no way you'd dump her in the park, risk that time by getting caught. No. You dumped her and left. You don't do that—you don't make this like it was supposed to happen. You controlled it. You controlled everything!"

"Why'd you come back?" Bryce asked. I knew he wanted to distract the inevitable rage that would snap inside the boiling madman.

It worked.

Marcus smiled, calm again, and eerily, "Because she lied." He turned those inhumane and serpent-like eyes my way. "You lied to me this morning."

"What?"

He caressed his cheek with the knife and whispered, "I can forgive your lustful nature. I understand it. You need that touch to make you feel alive, but I can't forgive your hypocrisy. You can't lie to me and you lied this morning."

"I wish no one noticed me."

His hands stilled and the flush disappeared. "You do?"

I remembered when the blushing schoolboy disappeared in an instant.

"You love the attention, Sheldon Jeneve. You're the Queen. You command attention. To say that you wished no one noticed you was an insult to me, to us. You insulted us and you became the hypocrite. You lied to me. You were fake to me. You're never fake to me…that can't happen."

"Are you insane?" I gutted out, automatically, reflexively. He was insane and someday I would wonder when he had ceased living among us, but now was not that time.

"I think you should shut up," Bryce warned, lethal.

Marcus whipped back to him, narrowed his eyes, and I saw the intent before I could scream.

Marcus plunged deep within Corrigan and I blinked.

It was done.

Corrigan's eyes rolled inwards and he slumped to the ground.

Bryce lifted the gun, but Marcus ran.

The gun went off, but it only splintered the empty doorway.

Wood chipped off and flew around us. I felt a few slivers break open the skin on my cheek, but I watched Corrigan on the ground.

Bryce cursed, dropped the gun, and sprinted out the door.

And Corrigan was on the ground.

Chapter 33

I knelt, watched, and felt the gun by my hands. I stared at it, surprised. I heard Marcus' words in my mind.

"…that was supposed to happen"

I was the girl that no one messed with. I remembered Officer Sheila's words.

"…I'm thinking the more you scare, the madder you are, and the more ruthless you'll get...he's not going to expect that."

Well, she was right. I was livid, a gun lay at my hand, and my best friend's blood coated my floor.

My hand grabbed the gun and I stood. I would not and will not stand by when I can enact my own revenge, should it be justified or not.

Corrigan moaned at my backside and I whirled to the corner. My stomach emptied its contents and Corrigan was again unconscious.

My fingers twitched from my rage and my jaw firmed.

The hallways stretched long and wide. The paintings seemed to shrink as my shadow crossed over them. And in the meantime, I listened. I heard one set of footsteps, but I doubted the heavy sprint belonged to a student who'd made the pros because of his footwork.

Bryce was graceful and exquisite to watch, but this hunt belonged to me.

I followed the footsteps and found myself turning down the stairs.

All the lights were suddenly cut and the house plunged into darkness.

That wasn't Marcus' handiwork.

I now knew where Bryce had disappeared to and I instantly realized the significance.

This was my territory. This wasn't Marcus' backyard and he was a blind rabbit running for its hole.

As I cleared the last step, the heavy sprint suddenly choked itself off.

And I grinned, a mask of malicious humor against the dark backdrop of the night. I wasn't scared. I had been—I hated to admit it, but I wasn't scared anymore.

My best friend was nearing his death's doorstep.

I had almost turned away from the man who loved me.

And I had felt, briefly, but blaringly, the cold winds of isolation and loneliness.

I circled around the back hallway and bypassed my hidden spot. The bench now seemed cold and useless, but it had been my life's shelter at that time when my home had been violated for the first time.

I heard the garage door turn and I heard the garage door stay shut.

It was still locked.

I almost felt the house's grin of eager approval.

I plunged through the dark and walked through the back sitting area where I had laid my head to rest, where I had woken to the sounds of a burglary.

I had one more door and one more hallway, but I heard a silent curse.

And then I heard—"Corrigan?" Logan's voice was quivering, fearful, and hesitant. It was also far off and I knew she was in the foyer, just through the opened front door.

A black shape stood just before the locked garage door, but he had turned at Logan's voice. Marcus froze in place and I almost felt the wheels spinning in his sadistic head. I could see him as I slunk down the hallway.

And he now started towards Logan's voice.

I froze in place, right against the wall, and he moved past, a mere shirt sleeve away.

My lungs ceased breathing.

He passed without any realization and I now stood to follow him.

"Corrigan?!" Logan called out again, anxious. She started up the stairs. "Where are you?"

She'd find him and her scream would be heard in a moment.

A heartbeat and then another—and the scream rang throughout the house.

Marcus stopped and waited.

I could hear his heart pounding and if he had looked behind him—he would've stared into my white eyes.

He didn't and he strained his ears, waiting for murmuring hushes to proceed.

He heard none of it and I knew he was confused.

I wasn't up there and I was supposed to be. I was supposed to have rushed out to silence her or to warn her. I was supposed to have remained behind, but I hadn't. He realized that now and he stopped—confused for his next plan. I saw his hands tighten around the knife. The edge still dripped blood and my hands tightened around my gun's handle.

I raised my arm, ready to enact my vengeance, but something crashed through a window in that moment. Marcus turned in that direction and my arm returned to my side. I stepped past and he moved beside me, back into the darkness cover where he could wait and plan his next move.

I flattened against the wall once more and he moved past…again.

I knew my luck was about to run out, but I couldn't stop.

He went back to the garage door and rattled the locked handle once more. Still nothing.

He didn't dare move towards the front door. That was too obvious. So he tried for a window instead.

They were all locked. The alarm system ensured it and it only allowed the front door to be opened. It was pretty marvelous and I thanked Bryce for installing it properly.

Marcus cursed, not for the second time, and I heard Logan's weeping in the background. We both heard her call 911 and I waited for Marcus to decide his next move. He would either risk it and run through the rabbit-hole or he would stay for the cops.

And then I heard the front door slam shut, lock, and a second beep sounded throughout the house.

Bryce shut the door and we were all locked, ready and waiting for the next move to be had.

I heard his voice, high above, and omnipresent, "Hey, Marcus…"

Marcus froze, but said nothing.

Bryce laughed and commented, "Do you want to know what it's like to be hunted?"

Still nothing from Marcus.

Logan wept in the background. I could imagine that she cradled Corrigan in her arms as her knees became covered in his blood.

My eyes went a little more lethal in that moment, as I thought of that sight.

It was symbolic, in a way. Corrigan bled because of me. Bryce hunted because of me. In the end, I was the one who stood beside the murderer.

Bryce called out, "I can see you, Marcus."

I knew that he could see me too. The videos were still being used and I looked up to where I remembered one was poised.

Marcus shivered in front of me and gripped his knife tighter.

It wouldn't do any help.

I had the gun. I wasn't stupid. I knew that he could knock it out of my hands. He could probably overpower me and wrestle it free, but he didn't have the clear head. His heart pounded wildly and he was barely holding onto any calmness.

His breathing was ragged while mine was anything but.

I knew that Bryce saw it all.

"You're being hunted right now, Marcus," Bryce continued. Cold. "I'm watching you and I know where you are."

"Stop this!" Logan screamed. There was a thump and then her footsteps were heard on the stairs.

The sudden movement unhinged us both and as Marcus whirled to the stairs, so did I—but he saw me instead of the empty hallway.

I froze.

He froze.

Then he smiled while I leapt into action.

Marcus lunged for me, but I spun out of his grip. I dropped to the floor, remembered a wrestling move from Bryce, and I kicked desperately up—trying for any weakness he might have.

My foot connected to his groin, but his hand connected to my jaw.

We both spun from the hit and saw stars from the pain.

I still held the gun while the knife was gripped in his hold.

"You bitch!"

I blinked back the pain and rolled to my feet. I backed up and raised the gun.

Marcus saw it now and he stopped abruptly. From the look in his eye, I don't think he even cared. He saw his point of obsession in front of him and he smiled in triumph. He wasn't thinking right and that was a point on my side.

I lowered the gun to my side and I asked, "So what is this? Between you and me? Is this because you got bullied all your life?"

We heard the sirens in the distance. They were coming…

"Wouldn't you like it to be as simple as that." He smiled.

"Is this because I'm popular and you're not?"

"As if," he mocked with a twisted grin.

"You better start talking, Marcus," I said and stepped back. "I've got the gun while you've got the knife."

"I'm a man," he countered.

I smiled, a taunt, and moved another step back. I held the gun tight, but still kept it at my side. "Were you expecting me to quiver in my shoes? Maybe pee my pants? Is that what you wanted?" I heard Logan scream again and smiled. "Maybe you wanted me to scream like her. Is that it?"

"God, yes," he breathed out and I knew his libido sparked at that image.

I murmured, "I only scream for Bryce. You should know that—you've watched enough."

His smile was wiped clean.

Give me a reason, I prayed.

"I'll tell you something," I murmured. "You're right. I'm not like other girls."

He was giddy in front of me. He was insane.

"I don't give a shit about proper etiquette, about being nice, or about people liking me."

"That's why you're the one," he murmured.

His insanity knew no boundaries.

"Is it?"

"You reign supreme over everyone. You hold power over everyone."

Are you kidding me? "Do I?" I asked.

"You do." He smiled brilliantly at me.

"You're wrong," I replied. "I'm at the top because I settle for nothing less—and you—you settled for where you ended at. You're a loser, a social deficit. You're the one who chose that place. You chose your life—not your godforsaken bullies. They're just doing their jobs. They're being bullies because it's what they were taught. But you—you chose this. You. Chose. It!"

"She whimpered," he whispered and smiled.

"So will you," I returned.

"She was so tight when I went inside of her."

I smiled. "I can shoot you up the ass if you'd like."

He stopped—he just…stopped.

"You've got nothing that'll unhinge me." I shook my head and made a tsk-tsk sound. Shame on him. "That's a lesson learned the hard way, isn't it? I don't scare and when I do—you get this instead."

Logan screamed in that moment.

Marcus raised his knife and prepared to lunge…

There's my reason…

My finger pulled the trigger.

His body slammed to the ground.

Logan's scream cut off.

And I stood there, silent, with the gun in hand.

He'd given me the reason that I prayed for.

Logan stood behind me, near the base of the stairs, and I turned to see her hand clasped to her silent mouth. Her eyes were wide and panicked. She looked like she was about to faint.

I wiped the gun and let it drop beside Marcus' body.

"You just…," she chortled. She didn't make sense in her shocked state.

"That's what I do," I murmured and glanced back to his soulless eyes. "It's why he picked me."

"But…"

"The paramedics are coming."

They did, but they were accompanied by the police.

I left Logan standing in the hallway and went upstairs.

Bryce had lifted Corrigan to the couch where he was applying pressure to the stab wound. The blood covered his body now and I stopped in the doorway, grateful for what I'd done.

"Hey…," Bryce greeted, hoarse and exhausted.

"You watched…" I gestured towards the monitors.

"Yeah. I erased it all until the last second where he lunged. It's self-defense. They'll take that and leave it," he said.

I moved to his side and sat down. I couldn’t feel a thing, maybe wariness, maybe some shock, I had no idea. Exhaustion, that was what I was feeling.

Bryce grinned with a haunted look in his eye. I looked away, but sighed on the inside as he brushed a thumb across my cheek to tuck back a loose tendril. I felt the trace of blood that was left instead of his loving touch, but I didn't care. I turned and gazed at Corrigan.

"He's so pale," I murmured.

"He'll pull through. He woke up a little while ago."

"He did?"

"He's fighting." Bryce bent and kissed my forehead. "That's what we do."

EPILOGUE

Miss Connors exclaimed, "So!"

I cringed against the harsh sound and sunlight that filtered through her office windows. I curled into a ball on her chair and rolled my eyes in annoyed resignation.

"Sheldon!"

"What?" I cried out. "I graduated yesterday. I'm hung over. Sue me."

"You're annoying, you know that?"

"You're supposed to be my counselor. What happened to all the sympathy and condolences?"

"The 'sympathy and condolences' went out the window when you used a certain expletive with me that pertain to intercourse." Miss Connors smiled tightly. She twirled her finger in the air and exclaimed, "So you can 'screw off' when you ask for that."

I grinned. "That wasn't what I said."

Miss Connors sighed, folded her arms, and asked, "So how's it going with your parents?"

"What parents?"

"You know—the dad that's still out of the country? The mom that's suddenly trying to be a mother with all this media attention? Those parents."

Oh. I shrugged. "They're fine."

"They're a disappointment," Stephanie said for me because I couldn't. Two months of therapy and my counselor realized that I couldn't ever say those words, but I liked hearing them. Hell, I needed to hear them.

I shrugged again.

And she sighed. She shifted and sat on her hands, prim and proper. "You know, Sheldon, you have a right to feel anger at your parents."

"What for?" I asked.

She nodded. "What do you mean?"

"Mom's a fraud. My dad's gone. What am I supposed to feel angry about? I can't do anything about it and I'm just wasting energy."

"You still call them Mom and Dad and, yet, you talk about them like they're not your parents."

"Stop it."

"Stop what? Being your counselor?"

"You're annoying." I glanced out the window.

"I care," Miss Connors said softly and watched me intently. "And that's why you put up with me—because I care and I'm here and I'm listening. And I want to listen to more."

"Gag me."

"Maybe later."

I grinned. I couldn't help it and Miss Connors didn't hold it against me.

"So!" Miss Connors said abruptly with a bright smile as she slapped her hands on her lap. "Are you going to ask me the question why you came in for a session that wasn't mandatory today? We've been seeing each other for six months, ever since it all went down, and there's one question that I know you haven't asked and I know you want to ask…so just ask it, Sheldon."

I took a breath and asked the million-dollar question, "Why the handcuffs?"

Stephanie rolled her eyes and chuckled. She leaned back, crossed a leg over her other and sighed, "Because I wanted to annoy you as much as you annoy everyone else."

"Seriously?" I muttered.

"Seriously." She laughed. "No, there's a real reason for them, but you guys cheated when you got them off so I'm not telling."

I remarked, "You should get laid."

"I did. Last night. Twice," she clipped out and leaned forward. "It's scary isn't it? Letting people in, not controlling everything. It's downright terrifying and you don't want me to press the point, but I can't resist."

"God! You piss me off!" I snapped out.

Miss Connors smiled in victory.

What counselor would enjoy making their client squirm in fury? Mine.

"I know," Stephanie proclaimed. "That’s how I have to communicate with you."

I glared, but she was right.

"Okay, I know the hour's up. Give my best to Bryce and Corrigan. Send a postcard from Europe. I never would've thought that I'd actually miss all you guys, but Europe won't know what's hit them. Tell Bryce good luck with Barcelona."

I nodded and clamped a hand to hers. I squeezed it and then left as quick as I could. I didn't want to look back. As I walked down the hallway, Corrigan was teasing Logan with whispered promises of—I'm sure—sexual positions. Logan blushed like she always did. I was nice to her because she held Corrigan's hand in the hospital when Bryce and I weren't there.

That earned some spine of steel points in my book.

And Grace—that was the shocker heard throughout the school's social hierarchy. Grace Barton, former loser and social defect, was now friends with me. Bryce and Corrigan didn't understand it, but I saw it with my own eyes. She was sickeningly sweet at times, but she had strength that amazed me. I didn't understand her and somehow we came to be best friends.

Bryce and Corrigan hadn't changed. They were just wanted even more by every female in the school. Bryce was hailed as an up-and-coming star in the professional leagues. Girls were starting to arrive in our town, but I had more than enough venom to send them packing.

Corrigan lifted his head as I approached.

Bryce grinned and raked a hand through his Mohawk as he leaned beside my locker.

"How's Miss Connors?" Bryce asked.

"Still pisses me off."

Corrigan barked a laugh. "You're just saying that because you like her."

I glared.

Logan kissed him and I rolled my eyes.

Grace dodged a group of laughing seniors and drew abreast our group. Her smile tightened at the sight of Corrigan and Logan's locked lips, but she said, "Everything's set. Next year will pale in comparison, but as the senior class President—I can conquer uncharted seas and bring unity to our school once again."

My lips thinned and Bryce waited for my response.

Corrigan grinned, waiting, as he lifted his head from Logan's lips.

I remarked, "I'm about to vomit."

Grace was undisturbed and raised a hand in the air. "Vomit all you want, One with Negative Sarcasm, but you're gone and I'm still here next year. This school will rebound after Sheldon Jeneve." Her smile was so sweet, I really did feel nauseous. She ended it with, "Do you want to go to church right now?"

"Do you want to suck Bryce's dick right now?"

Logan blushed, but Grace’s smile stayed in place. "That's your job, not mine."

"And yours would be…?"

"Keeping your conscience intact."

It was a weird friendship.

Later, curled in bed with Bryce, I rolled out from underneath him and asked, "Do you remember when we were going to Leisha's candlelight vigil?"

Bryce shifted to his side, smoothed a hand down my flushed cheek, and asked, "Why?" He bent and pressed a tender kiss to my cheek and worked his way to my neck. I fell on my back and Bryce settled half on top of me. He continued his caresses as I stroked a hand in his hair. "When I told your mom that if I had a daughter and she had your eyes…"

Bryce finished for me as he lifted his head again, "If my mom would want her to cry?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah," he said. "I remember."

"What if…?" I raked my hand through his hair and grinned as I felt foolish now.

"What if what? If we have kids?"

I shuddered at the thought. "God no, that's years away and we'll probably have broken up by then or killed each other, but maybe someday."

He ignored that. "I think that if we had a child, she'd have my good-looks and your tongue."

I thought so too, but I murmured, "I'm pretty hot too."

Bryce kissed me and the warmth sparked again.

He shifted and rolled me underneath him.

I murmured as my speech was evaporating underneath Bryce's exploring caresses, "I want to go to Leisha and Bailey's candlelight vigil next year."

Bryce paused again and stared down at me. His eyes were dark with desire.

I whispered, "I want to go with you and Corrigan, just you and Corrigan."

Bryce nodded and when I saw the love in his eyes, I reversed our positions and straddled him instead. He grinned and commented, "I still have Miss Connors' handcuffs, you know…."

The end.

Stay tuned for Still Jaded in April 2013 where everything changes…

For more information: http://www.facebook.com/tijans.writings

Still Jaded

Tijan

Chapter 1

"Have you heard?" Grace plopped her books on the table beside me. "Bryce Scout is moving back to town. The local celebrity jock is about to 'reclaim his crown.'"

I rolled my eyes. "You're just jealous because Corrigan won't be around to flirt with you as much."

Grace paled. "I am not…" she sputtered, her mouth agape, and then wised up. "You're the one who's jealous because Corrigan won't be spending as much time with you."

I laughed at that one. If only it were true. "Right. It makes complete sense that I'll be missing my time with Corrigan."

Grace pouted and leaned back in her chair. "You don't have to be the bitch you like to be. I'm just saying…whatever. I was just teasing you because, you know, Bryce is your boyfriend and everyone's talking about him, and you're my friend—just shut up, Grace."

"I know," I murmured softly as our professor entered the room. I nudged Grace's thin shoulder. "But I wasn't joking—you've got the hots for Corrigan."

Grace gasped and wheeled back to me in protest, but the class quieted in that instant and was soon underway. As Miss Connors wrote the first objective on the white board, I tuned the class out. It wasn't that I didn't enjoy our psychology class; it was that Grace was right. Everyone was talking about Bryce's imminent return, and I wasn't sure how I felt about it. I'd gone to Europe with him after high school. He had been going to play professional soccer, and I didn't have anything better to do. Corrigan went too, but he was the first to leave. However, while Corrigan had a legitimate reason since his mother had fallen sick with cancer, I did not when I followed him a few months later.

I stuck around Barcelona, but it was difficult. I wasn't good at making friends, and the only person I knew was busy with training, practice, and games. Then there were the interviews, the team outings for the public, and a whole host of fanatical mostly female fans.

I'm not one of those self-conscious girlfriends—far from it—but the obsessive stalker types wore on me after awhile. I usually love ridiculing someone in public, tearing her to pieces until she shrivels up sobbing in a fetal position, but my run-ins with Bryce's adoring fans were too much. I realized that I needed my own life. So, I went home. That was six months ago…

An entire year has passed from when we left to when all of us returned home.

"Sheldon!" Miss Connors boomed my name.

I blinked back to reality and saw my previous high school counselor frown at me. She indicated the white board. "What are your thoughts on the fight or flight instinct?"

I relaxed. Homework be damned, I could handle this question. "I think it's total crap."

Miss Connors suppressed a smile. "And what do you mean by that?"

She knew me so well. "The book says that people either fight or flight, right? They run or they attack? Well, it also says that people 'freeze' when they're in those life or death moments."

"Do you freeze?"

"Hell, no. I'm a fighter," I snorted in disgust.

The class broke out in laughter, but I saw Grace grimace. I wasn't surprised to see the concern in her baby blues.

"Do you think it's wrong to freeze?"

"Hell, no. It's just what it is, you know? People freeze. They're going to freeze if they've never been put in that situation, and it happens. The body does weird stuff. It takes care of its own."

Miss Connors snapped her intelligent eyes to me, narrowed them, and mused, almost to herself, "And maybe there's a reason why it shuts down…"

What?

I narrowed my eyes and studied my previous therapist/current professor in return. She looked tired, but no more than usual. Her thin straw-colored hair was pulled into a haphazard bun with strands that teased the tops of her slender shoulders. She wore a yellow blouse pulled out from pressed khaki pants. All that was the same as before, but she'd never started talking to herself in the middle of a lecture.

I glanced around the room and saw more than a few other students confused. That's when I looked at Grace, only to find her concerned eyes still on me.

"I'm fine!" I snapped out.

Miss Connors jumped out of her trance.

Grace bared her teeth. "I can think my own thoughts."

"Not when they're about me," I barked back.

"Sheldon…" Miss Connors frowned as she stepped forward. "Is there something I should know about?"

"No!" I was tired of all the emotional support and crap. It had been a year since I killed the pervert who stalked me. It hadn't changed my life. I'd gone to counseling, more because the court mandated it, but I'd gone. I was fine. People needed to let it go.

Miss Connors looked at Grace. "Is there something I need to know?"

I interjected, "This is class, not Sheldon's personal crisis trauma team. And I'm fine. I'm pissed off because you made me talk in class, but otherwise, I'm fine. And don't talk to Grace. She doesn't have her head screwed on right now. She's got it bad for Corrigan, and he's unavailable, so she likes to turn her attention to me instead."

Grace gasped and pushed up from the table. She gathered her books against her chest, glared once more at me, and swept out of the classroom. Once the door slammed shut behind her, I sat back and waited for the shocked lull in the class to end. And one second later, it did as people eagerly turned to their table partners.

I had just outed Grace…because that's the type of friend I am.

Miss Connors sighed, looked at the clock, and then called out, "Okay, guys. You can go."

I stood up.

"Not you, Sheldon."

I sat down.

When the last student left, Miss Connors crossed the room to shut the door. As she turned, those condemning eyes in place, I snorted, "That's who I am. I'm not very nice at times."

"No, you're not," Miss Connors agreed with me. "But you're normally pleasant, especially with Grace. What's the deal?"

I grinned at her words. "What's the deal? Are you still trying to talk to me in my language?"

"Sheldon," she exclaimed. "You have never outright hurt Grace before. I have known you since high school and counseled you for one of those years. The last time you were a cold bitch to someone like Grace was the same time you were being stalked, and two of your friends were killed. So I'm asking…is there something going on that I should know?"

Well, when you put it like that…

I sighed, "No. I'm just a bitch. I'll apologize to her later."

Miss Connors gave me one of those all-too-knowing looks before turning to her desk. "I think you should leave her alone, but that's my personal opinion."

I should, but the truth was that Grace had become one of my only friends besides Corrigan. I sort of needed her, though I'd never tell her that.

"I heard that Bryce is coming back to town." Miss Connors watched me with hawk-like eyes.

I paused. "Yeah?"

"I know that the two of you weren't doing so well when you moved back. How are things now?"

Hell. No. I reared my head back. "I had my stint in therapy. I'm not going back, so no questions about Bryce, especially Bryce."

"What about Corrigan? Can I ask about him?"

"Him either." I pushed through the door.

Miss Connors yelled as it shut behind me, "Can I ask if they're even alive? Is that okay? Or maybe you—are you alive?"

I suppressed a shudder and veered for the door in joy. Maybe not joy, but I was anxious for my escape. And then I was through. I breathed in the fresh air and heard, "Sheldon! Yo. Stop."

And the fresh air was ruined.

Michael Reveritt jogged towards me in his fitted white shirt that seemed to glide over his muscles with those Labrador chocolate eyes and plush lips that always seemed to be smiling. Or kissing. I knew he kissed a lot of girls. I knew he did more than that too.

"What do you want, Ritt?"

He stopped and shook his head as he laughed. "Always about the sunshine, ain't ya, Sheldon?"

"It's Jeneve. What do you want?" I was tempted to stomp my foot in rhythm and tap out the seconds until I lost patience, but that was rude…and I'd already filled my rude quota for the day.

"Whatever, Sheldon. You know you love how I say your name. Just admit it." Then, he caught the look in my eyes and hurriedly threw out, "Corrigan said you banned the frat house from your party on Friday night? That can't be real, right? Corrigan's got it wrong."

Parties. Frats. And Corrigan. Why was I not surprised this was why Michael Reveritt found me? I grew tired of the game and turned on my heel. "No, you're not invited."

Mike followed. "Come on, Sheldon. You're all alone in that huge house of yours. Corrigan told me about it. He told us about the ragers you used to throw. Why won't you let us come?"

"Because you're morons." I had a better reason, but the moron part was true enough.

Mike reached out and drew me to a stop. He pleaded. "You're best friends with Corrigan, and he's one of my brothers now. How can you cut off a brother from his brothers? It's inhumane. And besides, we're a frat. We have to be at the best party on campus."

"Good thing my place isn't on campus." I peeled his fingers from my arm.

"You know what I mean. Come on, Sheldon. You're one of us, and we have to be there. It wouldn't look right if we weren't."

"Contrary to your thoughts, Ritt, the party isn't for you. It's for me, Corrigan, and Bryce. I'm inviting people that Bryce knows. He doesn't know you—"

"Yes, he does."

I stopped in my tracks. "What are you talking about?"

"He calls Corrigan all the time. Corrigan spends a bunch of his time with us. I've had a few conversations with your boyfriend, at least enough to know that he's a chill guy. He'd be surprised if we weren't at the party."

"He's not my boyf—" I stopped myself. It had been over a year, and I still automatically denied the relationship. I waited a beat and then clarified, "I'll talk to Corrigan about it, but if you guys come, you can't trash my place. If you do, heads will roll. I mean it."

Mike flashed a smile. "I wouldn't expect anything else. And you're family. We won't do anything to your place. Corrigan would take a battering ram to us if we did."

I grinned. Corrigan would; that made me proud.

"So you're cool with us coming?"

I sighed, "Were you ever not coming?"

"Hell, no," he laughed. "I just thought I'd make one last ditch effort before we crashed and officially pissed you off. Good thing, huh?"

I bared my teeth, much like a wolf would do before it tore into its prey. "Do you know what I do to people that piss me off?"

Mike stopped and opened his mouth. No sound came from it.

"The worst I've done is kill 'em…"

I turned and sauntered away but not before hearing Michael mutter behind me, "Holy God, that woman."

Why didn't I want the fraternity at Bryce's party? The real reason is that I didn't want any distraction from his homecoming. I didn't want any drama. I wanted Bryce to feel relaxed, around people he used to know. The frat guys were not relaxing and definitely not drama-free. But I already knew they'd crash the party. It made sense that they'd want to be at the best party around, especially one that was thrown for the local jock celebrity, as Grace had termed it.

Ah…Grace.

I'd have to fix that. I knew that I'd hurt her feelings, but a part of me didn't understand why she was so upset. Yes. I had publicly exclaimed that she had feelings for Corrigan, but that wasn't exactly top-secret. I knew it. Grace knew it. I was pretty sure a whole bunch of other people knew it, Corrigan included. Besides, everyone knew the details of my personal life. If the campus gossip mill hadn't covered it, the tabloids from Europe got the rest. They really loved Bryce over there, and they really hated that he was leaving for a U.S. team.

My phone rang.

And speaking of Bryce…

I grinned as his name flashed over the screen. "What's up?"

"Hey, I'm here," he said.

"You sound refreshed. Shouldn't you have jetlag or something?" And what did he mean he was here? He wasn't supposed to show up until Friday, two days from now.

Bryce laughed. "I slept on the private jet, Sheldon. And yes, I know it's disgusting that I get to fly in private planes now, but deal with it. I don't suffer jetlag, and I don't care."

"Whatever," I growled but grimaced. Could I be any more annoying?

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I clipped out.

"Sheldon, what's wrong?"

"Nothing!"

"Tell me what's wrong or I'm going to have my mom come over for dinner tonight," he threatened.

I buckled—damn it. "I was a bitch to Grace."

"When are you not?" Bryce laughed.

He knew me too well. "And I told our psych class that she has feelings for Corrigan."

Bryce quieted on the other end for a moment. "I thought they'd already talked about that. Didn't Corrigan tell me something about that?"

I shrugged. "News to me. Grace hasn't said anything to me about it, but she's been stupid over him since our senior year. Good gracious, how long is she going to pine for the moron?"

Bryce mused, "Well, it's out now. They'll figure it out."

"And I'm the quintessential bitch, like always."

"You're just you, Sheldon. Get over it and get home. I've missed you."

I grinned and picked up my pace for the car. "My dad did have a pool installed…"

"Done. I'll meet you there." And Bryce hung up.

As I approached my car, I shook my head. Bryce was back. He was back, and he was at my house—it felt good.

It felt…like normal.

Chapter 2

When I pulled into my driveway, I was a little confused when I didn't see Bryce's red Miata. Then I hit the button for the three-car garage, and there it was, all nice and shiny. It was one of Bryce's guilty splurges while he was in Europe. When I decided to come back to California, he'd sent it with me. Bryce said it wasn't the same driving it around when I wasn't there. So I'd been driving it until the last few weeks when Corrigan insisted he wanted his time because when Bryce came home, he'd lose his chance with the Miata. I hadn't cared, and it had been with Corrigan since.

Guess Bryce got it back.

As I let myself into the house and walked down the adjoining hallway, I caught sight of his luggage. A year ago, he had left with a soccer bag over his shoulder, and now he returned with sleek, black, pristine-looking luggage. I wasn't sure how I liked the changes, but, no matter the money, Bryce was still Bryce.

Bryce and me were still Bryce and me.

I quickly shed my clothes for a bikini and strode towards the pool. I pushed open the door, and there he was, in a brisk front crawl through the pool. The water glistened over his shoulders, which rippled and bunched as he continued to pace himself. He made swimming look easy.

And then he stopped at the edge and lifted his head.

I groaned and smiled in delight at the short black Mohawk, sea blue eyes, and chiseled cheekbones. Bryce flashed a smile, full of intent, as he lifted himself out of the pool.

"Hey," I murmured as he stalked closer.

Another girl might've stepped back from the dark promises in his eyes, but not me. Never me. Bryce didn't say a word as he continued to move until he was right in front of me. And then he swept me up. I entwined my legs around his waist, and his lips were on mine.

Holy—I gasped into his mouth. I had missed this. I had missed his taste. I was lost in it until I was lowered to a couch. I glanced around, dazed, and saw that Bryce had carried me into one of the changing rooms.

"Baby," I gasped and arched my neck. Bryce's lips suckled downwards as they lingered at all the spots I liked, and then he moved to my breasts. It didn't take long until both pieces of my bikini were gone. As this happened, I raised a leg up and pushed at Bryce's swimming trunks.

He chuckled as he helped remove the last piece of clothing. And then he was back, his eyes darkened with desire as his hands skimmed over every curve.

"Holy hell, Bryce," I gasped and wrapped my arms around his shoulders as I brought my body flush against his.

"Sheldon," he whispered. His hands slid down my back, took hold underneath my thighs, and lifted me further up on the couch.

I snapped a finger towards a small cupboard in the corner. Bryce understood and quickly crossed the room. A plea escaped my lips in protest at the sudden loss of contact, but Bryce was back in a flash, condom in hand. He paused above me and kissed me slowly. His lips fitted mine perfectly and his tongue swept in to rub against mine for a heart stopping moment.

"Now!" I snarled.

Bryce chuckled into my mouth and flicked his tongue against mine once more.

I groaned. He was playing with me.

My eyes snapped open and I found myself staring into his. Bryce swept his tongue around my mouth once more before he cupped my cheek in his hand and whispered, "You're not leaving me again."

It wasn't a question but a command.

I nodded, weak in that moment. There wasn't anywhere else I wanted to be.

And then Bryce had the condom on and slid inside. I arched my back and grasped onto his shoulders as Bryce started the rhythm. He moved in and out, slowly, and then picked up speed. I was helpless underneath the onslaught of pleasure. Time slid away until I felt the pinnacle nearing and then suddenly, I gasped as I shot over it.

Bryce trembled as he climaxed, and we held onto each other as we rode out the waves.

He rested on me, and I welcomed his heaviness as I skimmed a hand down his back. I swept it back up and continued in a soothing motion. Bryce rubbed his thumb down my arm and moved to caress my leg.

I grinned in contented fatigue and murmured, "And that's only the beginning for the night."

Bryce barked out a laugh and kissed me. He raised his head. "I meant what I said. You aren't going anywhere now."

My grin vanished, and I sobered. I knew what he meant and broke out, "I'm sorry that I left, I just couldn't…I wasn't me anymore, not at the end. I'm sorry."

He skimmed a hand in my hair, tucked a strand behind my ear, and bent down to kiss me again. Then he whispered, his breath teasing my lips, "Just don't do it again. I need you."

I closed my eyes as I heard those words. I heard the raw truth and wrapped my arms around him in a breathtaking hug.

I needed him too.

Bryce let out a shuddering breath, one that wracked his whole body, and seemed to collapse on top of me. We stayed there, wrapped in each other's arms, until my eyelids became heavy and closed. I drifted asleep, underneath Bryce's much needed weight.

And then my eyes snapped open, sometime later, and I raised myself up. I was disoriented. "Bryce?"

He grunted from behind me.

That's when I heard whatever woke me up: a crashing sound, followed by laughter, and then splashing.

"What the hell?" I bit out and crossed to the door.

"Hey," Bryce called out. "Put your suit back on."

I frowned and looked around the room. "Where is it?"

He muffled his laughter and rolled to a stand. As Bryce looked in one corner, I glanced to the other.

"Got it." And he threw both pieces at me.

I caught them, but glared. "You're supposed to respect me afterwards. Not throw my clothes at me."

Bryce rolled his eyes and sat on the couch to pull his swimming trunks back on. "Half the time you get all pissy if I treat you with respect." He stood and pulled me into his arms. "And besides, you already know I love you." Then he pressed two quick kisses to my forehead, checked to make sure I was clothed, and swept open the door to call out, "Hey fellas!"

A cheer rang out, and I groaned because I recognized those voices.

Corrigan appeared in the doorway a moment later with a wolfish grin on his face. "Just like old times, right?"

"You almost walking in on us having sex? Yes, just like old times."

Corrigan threw his head back in laughter and then bounded over to wrap both arms around me. He lifted me in the air and bounced us both up and down as he chortled, "You love it! The gang is back together again! About effing time, Sheldon!"

I laughed and patted his arm. "Put me down, idiot. And why are you making it sound like I had anything to do with it?"

Corrigan placed me back on my feet and gave me an incredulous look. "Seriously, Sheldon. You know why."

"No, I don't." And I didn't.

"Bryce is back because of you. Admit it. He needs you just as much as you need him."

"Bryce came back because the California Suns offered him a better deal on their soccer team."

"Uh huh," he replied. Then he wrapped his arms around me again. "I don't care that you're in denial. I'm just happy that the crew's back together again."

I heard guffaws of 'hey dude' and 'did you get laid a lot?' and raised my eyebrows at Corrigan. "Did you have to bring them? All of them?"

Corrigan shrugged and ducked as I swatted at him. "They're my brothers. They wanted to meet Bryce."

"Whatever. Just get 'em out of here by tonight and not too late. I have class tomorrow, and I already know I'll be losing sleep as it is."

Corrigan nudged me with a wink. "Maybe you should sleep now, and then you'll be rested for Bryce tonight."

"You're disgusting." I hit him, but the idea had merit…

"Just trying to help. I care about your sex life."

"More like you care if I'm a bitch or not." And then I thought about it. "Are you dating someone new? You only care if I'm nice if you've got a new girl."

I narrowed my eyes but saw the quick panic in Corrigan's. Then he ran his hand through his shaggy blond hair. That's when I knew for sure. "Oh my god. You're dating someone that I won't be able to stand, aren't you?"

"No. Seriously Sheldon. You're all cute with your choppy brown hair and your smoking bod, but the attitude—it wears a little thin sometimes."

I narrowed my eyes. Corrigan never commented on my looks. He'd refer to me as hot or bodylicious, but he never commented on my hair—never. He was off, something was off. And then I knew. "You heard about what I said about Grace, didn't you?"

A wall slammed over his green sparklers.

And I had my answer. He had, and he was pissed about it.

"Why do you care? It's not like it's a secret. Bryce said that you talked about it to him."

"But I haven't talked to you about it because you're Grace's friend. Now it's out, and it has to be dealt with. You're pushing me to deal with it, Sheldon. And it's not your place. You should've kept your mouth shut." The gleeful boy had changed to show the anger that Corrigan usually kept in check.

"I would've, but she was pissing me off." I didn't care if Corrigan had a temper. We both did.

"Why was she pissing you off? Because it's so hard to do that."

"You don't know. You weren't there."

"Then explain it to me!" Corrigan yelled back. He was right in my face.

My nose was almost pressed to his as I cried out, with a hitch in my throat, "Because she constantly thinks I'm going to break. She can't get over what happened a year ago, and I'm sick and tired of her reminding me about it."

Corrigan sobered instantly. "I'm sorry, Sheldon."

I pressed on now that the dam had broken, "She can't let it go. I'm tired of always seeing this look in her face, like she thinks of me as a victim or something. I don't want her goddamn pity. I'm tired of it."

There was an awkward silence between us for a moment. I replayed my words and flinched from the raw emotion. And then Corrigan asked, "Who do you talk about it with? You don't mention it to me."

There was a knot in my throat, and I couldn't speak. I waved my hands in the air and shook my head. Corrigan groaned and moved close. "Hey, hey." He touched my shoulder, but I shrugged him off. "Sheldon, come on."

I couldn't, not then and there. The truth was that I didn't talk to anyone about it. Sometimes Bryce and I used to mention one or two things about Marcus Donadeli, but it was never in-depth. I had covered it in my counseling sessions with Miss Connors. Really. Did I have to talk about it to anyone else? Who would want to talk about that stuff?

I hurried out of the changing room and moved around the group of frat brothers.

"Sheldon! We're going to get a keg. Is that okay?" Michael Reveritt called out.

When I looked over, I gasped at what I saw. Bryce sat at one of the tables with Michael and a few others. That's not what made me gasp; it was the naked girl grinding on top of Michael while she eyed Bryce who sat right beside them.

"Get rid of the skank and you can have two kegs."

Michael flashed a smile and pushed the girl off his waist. She glared at me. I glared back. Then Michael called out, "Hey, pledge! Take Leah home."

One of them groaned but tore away from his group. As Leah dressed in reluctance, I looked up and caught Bryce's gaze. He was eyeing me, not in concern, not in caution, but in curiosity. And then his eyes trailed past my shoulders, and I looked. Corrigan was behind me, wearing a scowl.

Bryce stood up and asked, "What happened?"

Everyone quieted and looked over.

Corrigan jerked an abrupt shoulder. "Ask Sheldon. Since she doesn't effing talk about anything anymore. Wait—that's never changed, has it, Sheldon?"

I rounded on him. "Why are your panties so twisted? Is it because the Grace thing is out or is it because I don't talk to you about certain stuff?"

"You don't talk about anything. You left Bryce and you haven't said one word about the two of you. For the longest time I thought you'd broken up. Bryce is the one that had to tell me things were still okay with you two." He shrugged another shoulder and looked dejected. "You still don't let me in, not like Bryce, not even when he was across the world."

I narrowed my eyes and studied him hard. This wasn't normal for Corrigan, at least not in front of so many people. We didn't air our dirty laundry, and here he was, doing just that. I'd had enough. "Stop taking your bad mood out on me. You don't give a crap if I talk to you or not, not about those things. You're pissy about Grace. Are you in love with her?"

"What?" He froze, but his jaw clenched.

Bryce walked around the table. Michael and the brothers moved out of the way. And then Bryce bent, wrapped an arm around my waist, and lifted me up. He turned and called over his shoulder, "Party all you want, but don't trash the place and no media."

Corrigan snorted. "I can't believe you have to say things like that. 'No media.' That's rich." He forced a lighter tone, but I still heard the anger.

I lifted my head as I was transferred over Bryce's shoulder and glared. "You trash my place, and I'm coming after your balls."

"Yeah, well, we can talk about it afterwards," Corrigan threw back.

I flipped him off as the door shut behind us. Then I wiggled to get off Bryce. "You can let me down."

Bryce didn't answer. He patted my butt and carried me through the dining room, kitchen, and up the stairs.

He paused at the top and I murmured, "I moved into the big room." So he swept to where my parents' room used to be. Once inside, Bryce deposited me on the king size bed and kicked the door shut at the same time.

I fell down and glared up at him.

He asked, "What the hell is going on with you and Corrigan?"

I stayed on the bed and crossed my arms over my chest.

"Sheldon, you and Corrigan have never fought, not like that. What happened this year? I know that you and I are—I'm not sure how we are, but you and Corrigan have always been solid. What the hell happened?"

I raised frosty eyes at him. "What would you know about it? You've been around the world, doing your thing. Where do you get off talking as if we're in a relationship? This, you and me, it's called sex. That's all we've ever been."

Bryce shot a dark look at me and was quickly on top of me. He pinned my wrists to the bed and then growled. "We have been in a relationship since seventh grade. It took me six years to finally get you to say that you loved me, so don't insult me right now by saying we're not in a relationship or that we never have been. I won't stand for it, Sheldon. Not anymore, especially after being apart from you for the last six months. You left me."

"You left me first!" I tried to kick free from him, but Bryce spread his legs and wrapped them around each of mine. I was trapped, and he knew it.

"I had to go to Europe for my family, remember? And you came with me."

"Well, it didn't take with me."

"You didn't give it a shot. And are we really having a fight the first night I'm back?" Bryce asked, exasperated, and rested his forehead against mine. I felt his breath on my cheek as he breathed. And then he shifted and I felt every part of his body on mine. He moved upwards and a groan escaped my lips when my groin came into contact with his.

He chuckled. I couldn't keep back a grin.

Some things never changed.