"Yep." Bryce nodded. "We became really good friends in…?"

"When we were ten."

"That's right. And in seventh grade, you kissed me."

"You kissed me."

"No." He shook his head and moved to lay beside me. He flipped on his stomach and threw one arm over my waist. His head rested on my shoulder and he gazed up at me.

"Yes. I remember because it was during recess."

"No." Bryce smiled at me, a beautiful sight. He inched closer. "It was during lunch, but you kissed me because you wouldn't let me go and play football with the rest of the guys. I wasn't happy with you at all. Why would I kiss you if I wanted to play football?"

I noted, "You're supposed to always say that you were the one who kissed me. That's what a gentleman does."

Bryce laughed a full laugh and teased, "You admit that I'm right? You kissed me."

I poked him in the arm. "You're supposed to be a gentleman and say that you kissed me first."

Bryce studied me and then said softly, "You're right. I kissed you first."

"I know. That's what I've been saying this whole time." I flashed him a blinding smile.

Then I remembered my mom's call and the smile vanished.

Bryce lifted his head, cupped my cheek and kissed me softly. It was the softest kiss I'd ever gotten. I think my heart stopped and then it slammed back into me. And it didn't take long before I straddled him. My towel was shoved off as Bryce lifted up, his mouth still fused with mine. I worked hungrily at his pants. When I managed to get the zipper down, Bryce lifted me up and kicked his pants down with his feet and legs.

When he would've rolled me over, I pushed down on his shoulders and tightened my thighs.

Bryce fell back and I slowly nipped at his mouth, his bottom lip, his chin. I slid my mouth down his neck and lingered over his chest.

He groaned, but held still for me. I needed to ravage him.

I inched backwards until my mouth lingered at his trim waist.

I swooped down and I grinned when I heard his sudden intake of breath. His legs convulsed and his back arched slightly.

He swore and I pressed on. Later, when I heard his gasp, I finished it off and licked my way back to his mouth.

Bryce groaned and flipped me over. With a condom already in hand, he sheathed himself and slammed inside.

This time, I was the one who collapsed against the pillow, wrapped my legs around him, and hung on.

It was hot, savage, and I melted as I curled onto my side.

Bryce padded barefoot into the bathroom. After a quick shower, he dressed, and pressed a kiss to my forehead.

"Where are you going?" I asked, the bedcovers wrapped around my naked body.

"I'm going to run home and get some clothes. I'll be back."

"Take one of my keys. You can let yourself back in then."

He pressed another kiss to my forehead and lips before he grabbed one of the sets and darted down the stairs.

I got up, showered, and dressed in a jogging suit. I wasn't planning on jogging, but it looked cute and it was comfortable. Plus, I'd gotten a little drunk from the beer. Sex with Bryce had helped, but it always helped no matter the circumstances.

Bryce had already placed all the empty bottles in the case, so I took it downstairs and placed it beside the other. The pizza was still left, untouched, on the stove. I wrapped it up and put it away in the fridge as leftovers.

And then I took a deep breath and took my cell phone onto the patio that extended off of my parents' bedroom. As I curled on one of the patio loungers, I dialed my father's phone number.

"Hello?" he asked, slightly confused. My father always seemed to be confused.

"Hey, dad," I said quietly and wished I had grabbed a blanket.

"Oh, sweetie. How are you?" He even sounded cheerful.

"Mom called. She left a message."

"Oh. I'm so sorry, sweetie." He didn't sound it. He still sounded cheerful.

"What happened?"

"You don't need to bother with those details. What's important is that your mother and I are making the best choice for all parties."

"Where's Mom?"

"I think she may be in Paris, but who knows with your mother. She could be in Japan, for all I know."

"Are you coming home?"

There was a slight pause before he said, unapologetically, "Oh dear. I'm sorry. I can't bring myself to come home. The memories, you know, sweetie."

Again. I didn't know. I hadn't even known there were problems.

"I haven't heard from you in three months and the first I hear anything—it's a voice message saying that you're getting a divorce?"

"Oh honey. That's not fair. You could've called too, you know. Communication is a two-way street."

"In marriages," I said, surprisingly unemotional. "Not when it comes to parents and their children. I haven't seen you guys for five months."

"We've been over this before. Your mother and I wished to spend time in Italy. Your mother wanted to reconnect with her family roots—"

I couldn't believe—I stared at the phone. I could still hear my father, but I slowly, ever so slowly, closed my phone.

My father's voice was no longer and I was left without even a dial tone.

I took a deep breath before I stood and moved back inside. I wrapped a blanket around me and moved back into my father's study. I slid one of the bookcases aside and revealed his hidden liquor cabinet. Inside was champagne, crystal, wine, whiskey, bourbon. Anything and everything. There were even a few imported beer bottles.

I grabbed the rum and walked to the media room. I turned on a television station that played music videos and tipped my head back for my first shot.

I grimaced and then took another.

It took forever, but slowly the world faded away.

And then Bryce's arms were there and he had lifted me against his chest. I offered him the bottle of rum and he took a shot.

He hissed from the burn and I tried to make fun of him, but it was work. Words didn't make sense in my mind or from my mouth. Something just didn't connect.

When I felt my bedcovers, I came alive and pulled Bryce on top of me. He held back, which irritated me. I knew what I wanted and I wanted him. It didn't take long before I was on top of Bryce. I rubbed my body against his and nipped at his lips. It seemed to finally infuse him and he took charge, like he always did.

This time I didn't want the same. I shook my head numbly and moved to my knees.

Bryce groaned, but he stayed where he was.

I glanced at him and turned around.

It took a little bit, but all the sudden he was on top of me and he slid into me from behind. I felt him wrap an arm around my stomach as he plastered himself to my back. From the first thrust, I had to brace myself against the wall so I didn't bang my head against it.

We'd never tried it this way before.

It just felt different for me, but Bryce seemed to explode. I'd never heard the guttural groan that escaped him before as he collapsed onto my back. My own body shook. Bryce slid out, kept his arm around my stomach, and tugged me back down to the bed. He tucked me into his side and flung a leg over mine. He seemed to engulf me into him and his face rested just underneath my jaw.

I remember wondering where the rum had gone when I faded off.

Chapter 9

When I woke, Bryce was still beside me. He nuzzled the back of my neck and ran a hand down the front of my body. It caressed and rubbed at all the right spots to spark tingles. When his hand slipped between my legs, I gasped but closed my eyes. The pleasure soothed some new aches that didn't quite make sense.

A little later, Bryce tucked me underneath him, sheathed himself and slid inside. We didn't look at each other, but it was slow and sensual. I ran my hands over his shoulders and back. Bryce seemed to tremble.

At the final thrust, I curled back on my side and Bryce moved behind me. He didn't wrap his arms around me, like he did sometimes. He rested on his back and a second later, I heard his even breathing. He had fallen asleep.

I checked the clock and saw that it was a little after eight in the morning.

When I made my way into the shower, I shook my head past the fuzz. Something had happened last night, but…

I dropped the bar of soup when I remembered. I remembered everything.

The soap remained on the floor as I stood frozen in place. I ran over every word, action, and each thrust of warmth that had spread throughout my body.

Groaning softly, I finished in the shower and stepped out to dry off.

Bryce was still asleep when I slipped into some clothes.

I padded barefoot down to the kitchen and saw the near-empty bottle of rum.

Grimacing, I capped it and replaced it in my father's hidden liquor cabinet. I moved the bookcase back in place and left the study. It didn't look like it had even been touched in the first place.

When I heard my shower running, I filled two glasses of water and returned to my bedroom.

Bryce was still in the shower so I laid on my bed and snuggled into the bedcovers.

A little later, he came back and stopped short.

Our eyes met and he smiled a very satisfied smile.

I laughed and then cringed from the rum's revolt in my stomach.

Bryce chuckled and sat beside me. He ran a hand down my arm and murmured, "So, that was new."

I laughed again, but stopped short from the nausea inside.

"We could get to school in time for second period."

Bryce swore and remarked, "Who needs Spanish, anyway?"

"Only anyone who doesn't want to look like an illiterate idiot."

He snorted, but dressed in some clothes.

That's right. He'd gone home to pack a bag.

"Did we…" I started, but stopped.

He looked up and watched me intently. He sat back down and prompted, "Did we…?"

"Did we venture into new lands last night?"

A humorous smile spread across his face and Bryce nodded, "We did indeed."

"Oh," I breathed out. "Things are a little blurry, but I just wanted…I wanted to remember it all."

"Are you…," he asked slowly. "Are you having second thoughts?"

"No." I leaned upwards and captured his lips in a thorough kiss. "No, I'm not."

"Good," Bryce whispered and kissed me thoroughly. He stood again and asked, "So you're coming to school?"

"What else am I going to do?" I sighed in acceptance.

Something flickered in his eyes and Bryce admitted, "You're taking this pretty well."

"Not counting the drunken fog of orgies last night?"

"That makes sense, but I would've thought you'd be…angry, furious, something. I figured you'd want to get even or something."

I shook my head and stood to change my clothes.

Bryce watched me the entire time, but it wasn't from lust.

"What?" I asked, irritated.

"Nothing." He shrugged and grabbed the keys to his car. "Ready to go? I'll drive today."

"How will I get home?"

"I'll drive you or Corrigan will."

Bryce pulled into the school's parking lot a few minutes later. Some other stragglers were just arriving. Still others had decided to skip after the first torturous period of school. So there were more than a few students who were leaving and entering school at the same time we did.

Just as I left my locker, I locked gazes with Leisha as she passed by. I nodded in greeting and she gave me a fleeting smile. When I turned into my Spanish classroom, I saw Collette Chantal smiling seductively down at Bryce. She sat on the table just above him with her legs spread invitingly.

He was paying attention to whatever Chet was saying. As she touched his knee and started to slide down to his lap, Bryce brushed her off.

She looked insulted and about to protest, but Bryce ignored her.

"Doesn't it piss you off?" Chad had come up behind me.

"Does what piss me off?" I gripped my book and turned to face him. Cold.

He nodded in Bryce's direction. "Come on. Everyone knows what you two do and yet he's always got a new girl hanging on him. It has to piss you off, make you just burn inside. Tell me I'm right." He grinned cockily and moved to stand too close.

"Is this your card?"

His smile vanished.

"Because, really, it's been played by so many others. Try a new one, please, so I don't die from boredom."

His eyes had a glint of malice, but I evaded him and dropped into the seat beside Bryce.

I didn't have to look to know that Bryce was pissed. He would've seen Chad talking to me, but whatever. I had other things on my mind.

For one, my ass hurt.

Thankfully, the rest of the day passed without event. Chad sent a few glares our way and enjoyed licking his lips when his eyes met mine. He did it more when Bryce or Corrigan was around. And speaking of Corrigan, he must've been filled in by Bryce about my mental health state because he didn't pester me with questions. Then again, I didn't talk. They both knew that.

I dealt with it on my own. Drunken orgies had been a very pleasurable coping mechanism.

Lunch seemed to be declared wanton-free. I think maybe the guys had sent out a bulletin because no girl approached them or the table.

I sat with Bryce on one side and Corrigan on the other. Chet and Holster sat across and they all chatted about the upcoming soccer game. The word had been leaked that Bryce was no longer on the team and everyone seemed to have sent questions through Chet and Holster to ask Bryce. Lunch eventually became a Q & A about Bryce's plans for soccer.

After sixth period, I grabbed my purse just as Corrigan wrapped his arms around me from behind in a hug.

He chuckled and picked me up as he squeezed me.

"Oomph." I laughed and asked, "What's that for?"

He shrugged and fell down on the locker beside me.

We both knew what it was for.

"Yerling's a dick," Corrigan said abruptly. He watched him as he passed by and sent the same leering stares.

"Forget him. He's a loser."

"A loser that needs another pounding." Corrigan frowned abruptly. "Seriously. He's going to be a problem."

"You said the cops already knew about him. They were going to watch him, right?"

"Right," Corrigan scoffed in disbelief. "They don't unless a complaint's been filed or he's harmed someone."

Something in his voice had me frowning. I leaned closer and asked, "Has he harmed someone?"

Corrigan glanced at me sharply, but abruptly straightened and asked, his eyes on my purse, "Are you leaving?"

"I just like taking my purse to classes," I said dryly.

He smirked and suggested, "Let's take off."

"And go…?"

He shrugged and stuffed his hands in his front pockets.

"You want to go and hustle?"

He gave me a sharp glance and retorted, "Already been to jail this week."

"For me?" I murmured, huskily, and ran a finger up and down his arm.

Corrigan sucked in his breath, but didn't move away from the touch. He was thoughtful and finally shook his head, "No can do, Shell. I love ya and all, but I know I'll be sleeping next to some fat guy named Pervy." He shuddered and said shortly, "Not going to happen."

By unspoken agreement we turned towards the parking lot. We were outside the door when we heard a shout from behind us.

Turning, we saw Logan at the end of the hallway. She waved with a smile on her face, but she didn't move to us.

And Corrigan didn't move to her.

I glanced at him, but he was looking towards the parking lot. He had a stoic expression on his face.

When comprehension dawned, I punched him in the stomach.

Corrigan didn't grimace, cringe, or laugh. He sighed and moved towards his car.

"You're a dick," I declared.

Corrigan rolled his eyes and muttered, "Get in the car."

Inside, I said further, "No, I correct myself. They're the dicks."

"She's not a dick," Corrigan said quickly, but seemed to stop whatever else he was about to add.

I grinned now, "So you're the only one."

"Come on." he whined and wheeled out of the parking lot.

"Look, just—why do you have to bring them around?"

Disbelief crossed his face and he asked, "What are you talking about?"

"She knows about my parents. If you were going to drop her, why'd you bring her around in the first place?"

He shrugged, but asked, "Why do you care? It's not like you're nice to any of them."

I laughed, "I just laugh…at them. And have contempt for them."

Corrigan grinned from the corner of his mouth. As he pulled into the mall's parking lot, I remarked, "You know, if you were with her to make Becky Lew not your girlfriend, you put her through hell."

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

"I'm just saying…she put up with a lot. Me. And you know that Lew's making her life hell. Not to mention, Lew's mindless bubble-heads."

Corrigan grinned and said, "Can we not talk about this? This is weird."

That was true.

"I'm a little off—parents and all," I relented.

Corrigan glanced at me, closed his mouth, and then wrapped an arm around my shoulder. Instead of the usual squelching hug, it was a gentle touch.

It was gone just as quick as it came.

Corrigan coughed and said, after a brief hesitation, "Yeah...uh…how are you doing with that?"

"Drunken orgies was the way to go." And I thought, for a moment, that the orgies had gone too far.

"Sweet," Corrigan remarked suggestively. "That's what I thought."

And we were back on familiar ground.

"So tell me—how many times with the latest reject?"

"Six." The answer was so quick, I was taken back a little.

"Six?" I narrowed my eyes. "You've been waiting for that question, haven't you?"

Corrigan didn't reply, but suddenly stopped, threw an arm over my shoulder and leapt onto my back.

"Oh!" I exclaimed, but grabbed his legs just in time.

We were the picture.

Corrigan was known as the player with a temper while I was known for having my walls up against people. My second shrink had told me that I set up multiple walls to close myself from others. People needed to break through the walls before they found me, but Corrigan and Bryce had never needed to break through the walls.

I rather thought it was because of this—Corrigan had been jumping on my back since seventh grade. The abrupt piggy-back ride brought a delighted smile to my face. It had been too long. We'd become almost adults for too long.

Corrigan pretended to swap my butt as he laughed in my ear, "Giddy-up, ho-bag."

"You're the whore, playa," I retorted with no heat behind my words. Laughing, I arched my back and threw him off.

He caught himself just before he would've fallen and managed to keep one leg around my waist. With my momentum, both of us fell on the cemented parking lot.

Still laughing, I staggered to my feet while I turned and kicked him in the side.

He howled, but lunged for my feet the next instant.

Not wanting to fall on my back, I fell forward onto Corrigan's stomach.

Corrigan caught me just before my elbow connected with his groin, but he flipped his body as a wrestler and had me pinned to the ground instantly.

"Am I supposed to tap out?" I asked as I panted. I knew that I had a stupid grin on my face, but I didn't care at that instant.

"Tap out, bitch." Corrigan growled, but giggled at the end. This made me giggle.

We hadn't wrestled like this for years. This was the kid that I had befriended so many years ago. This was the real Corrigan behind all of his walls that I sometimes forgot were there.

All of the sudden, I felt my throat choke and I blinked back some tears.

I scrambled to my feet and started to walk away quickly. Horrified.
"What—Sheldon!" Corrigan called after me as he jogged to catch up. When he saw my tears, he fell silent beside me.

He looked away. I looked the other way.

When we entered the mall's food court, Corrigan cleared his throat and looked slightly embarrassed.

"What?" I asked forcibly, my voice hoarse.

He looked away again. If I hadn't known better, I would've thought that he looked panicked.

"What?" I said again and was grateful that my voice sounded more normal.

He stuffed his hands inside his jeans, hunched his shoulders, and asked in a quiet voice, almost too quiet for me to catch, "Are you…I mean…never mind."

"I'm good. Don't worry," I murmured quickly and bumped my shoulder to his.

A grateful smile spread over his face and he bumped back. From there a short arm wrestling match ensued and it ended with Corrigan getting another piggy-back ride in the mall.

We walked around for an hour. I modeled some lingerie to his wolf whistles. He tried on some flannel pants to my suggestive comments about the crotch-flap. Even though the modeling had started as a joke, Corrigan bought a pair of flannel pants because of 'easy access.'

The clerk had given us both a knowing and slightly disapproving look, which Corrigan had loved.

From there, he brought some smoothies and we ended our mall tour in the tattoo parlor. Corrigan already had two tattoos and was considering a dragon design for the back of his left leg.

I briefly considered a tramp stamp, but decided against it. Even with all my hype, I wanted to get a tattoo when it meant something.

We left the mall, stopped at a place for sub sandwiches, and headed to my house.

Just as Corrigan turned into my driveway, we both heard a sudden pop and the car swerved. Corrigan cursed and slammed on the brakes. He was out of the car in the next instant and I followed to hear him cursing some more.

He kicked a tire and spat out, "A flat."

"How?" I asked and glanced at my driveway.

My eyes found some spikes with steel-pointed edges that had been laid across my driveway.

"What the hell?" I asked as I knelt for a closer look. They were attached to a cord. Each end had been clamped down by some steel rods that were used to secure tents into the ground.

Just then we heard a squeal of tires and a truck roared past us. As they passed, the window opened and a brick was thrown at us. It smashed into Corrigan's back windshield. After it peeled around the corner and the engine sound faded, I didn't have to look at Corrigan. I already knew he was furious. When Corrigan was livid, he was silent. When he was pissed, he cursed, complained, and threatened.

Corrigan was silent.

"Do you know—" I managed out before he cut me off.

"Yerling," He spat harshly and cursed savagely. "Yerling."

He fell silent again.

I sighed and pulled up the rods that had been stuck into the ground. I rolled up the cord with all the spikes and stood there. Corrigan hadn't moved. His jaw clenched every now and then.

We stood there for awhile before I started his car and moved it to the side.

When I got back out, Corrigan must've clamped enough control over his fury because he opened his trunk and changed his tire. He threw his old one into the trunk and grabbed the keys from my hand. He peeled out of my driveway without a goodbye.

Chapter 10

I sighed as I walked towards my house. I already knew Corrigan would get revenge. He was the joker, the player, but he also had a temper and a penchant for ending up in jail. I figured I should make a trip to the bank, just in case I got another phone call asking for bail in the middle of the night.

When I entered my house, I walked through the garage to make sure my cars were all fine and left untouched.

They were.

Yerling hadn't broken into my garage. If he had broken into my house, the alarm would've sounded and my phone would've rang with a police report.

As I passed the front entrance into the kitchen, I noticed something on the ground.

Another note.

You didn't take the first note serious. It wasn't a warning. Adhere the grave circumstances if this note is thrown to the side as well.

To the trash it went.

I grabbed a can of soda and got into my car. The first stop was the bank, just in case. I withdrew two grand because I never knew what would happen with Corrigan. His bail had been a thousand one time and three hundred another time. Judging from his fury, I didn't think he would be content just trashing Yerling's car.

When I pulled into the Café Diner's parking lot, I saw that Bryce's car was there. He sat at the same booth in the back section. Chet, Holster, and Evan Harris sat with him. Becky Lew sat at a different table, across from theirs. The guys seemed to be ignoring the girls, while the girls were pissed that their flirting wasn't getting them attention.

Bryce's eyes found me and he nodded in greeting.

Chet stood and moved beside Holster and Harris.

I took his seat beside Bryce.

"You talk to Corrigan within the last hour?" I asked.

The guys quieted.

Bryce frowned slightly and shook his head. He asked, "Should I have?"

"Yerling put some tire slashes on my driveway. Corrigan lost a tire from it and his back windshield got smashed up. Yerling threw a brick as they drove off."

Chet started laughing. The rest of the guys all mirrored his amusement.

Bryce shook his head with a resigned look in his eyes. He murmured, "I should head to the bank."

"Already did," I told him.

Chet barked out a laugh at that. "Oh god. That's hilarious."

Harris leaned forward and asked, delight in his eyes, "So Sheldon, are you really coming to my party? It's tomorrow night, you know."

I cast a lazy eye over him and shrugged, "I'll try."

Bryce wasn't listening.

"What do you think he'll do?" I asked.

"With him—who knows," Bryce muttered, frowning.

"Didn't Corrigan light a shed on fire once because someone messed up his locker?" Chet asked.

Bryce swore.

"Imagine what he's going to do for his car getting messed up."

I swore.

"Yerling's going to the morgue if he keeps pissing off Corrigan," Holster remarked.

The guys all had the same sudden wariness now.

"Keeps pissing off Corrigan? What do you mean?" I was in the dark here. And I knew I didn't enjoy being in the dark, something else had happened.

Chet frowned and glanced to Bryce.

Holster and Harris both looked away. Sometimes I thought they were spineless, but then again—they were followers. I'd witnessed when those guys had waded through fire if Bryce, Chet, or Corrigan told them to. They weren't spineless, but wary at times. And they had reason to be.

"What am I missing?" I looked at all four of them and ended with Bryce. He had been watching me with an emotion I couldn't name. A knot of dread suddenly took root in my stomach.

Oh god.

"What is going on?"

"Uh…" Bryce started, but fell silent.

Chet cleared his throat and leaned forward. "Uh…Yerling's been pushing the envelope lately. He's been…he's been—"

"A psycho lately," Holster said flatly.

Chet threw him a frown, but resumed, "Yeah, well, he's been off his rocker lately. Remember that day in here when he…"

"I remember," I said dryly. I'd been there. I didn't need to remember when he'd made me scared—pansy.

"Well…the truth is that Yerling had done something to another girl this past weekend. And—" Chet gave Bryce a beseeching look.

Bryce coughed and finished, calmly, "Yerling hurt a girl at my party Friday night."

"What?" I hadn't heard anything about that.

"And on Sunday night, he made a few not-pretty comments about you—about what he'd like to do to you. We've been kinda watching him ever since then."

"He knew the score!" Harris burst out. "You told him that if he hurt anyone else or even looked like he might hurt someone that you'd put him down. He's asked for what's coming to him."

"He seemed fine on Monday and Tuesday. He was joking with Brent at lunch that day." This was from Chet.

"I know. We saw him in the principal's office Tuesday. He was fine," Bryce remarked.

"He said he'd gotten caught getting a blowjob," I said shortly. "He lied."

"Or he was trying to make someone give him a blowjob," Holster mumbled without thinking what he'd just said. His eyes widened when he did and he glanced at Bryce.

Bryce said slowly, "If that was the case…who was the girl?"

"I haven't heard a thing," Chet remarked as he swallowed tightly.

"Me neither," Evan parroted.

"Right," I scoffed. "Because girls who are forced to do sexual acts really go around and proclaim it." I sent a scathing glance at them. "You guys are idiots."

They looked at me.

"If you guys were forced to do something like that, would you tell people?"

They all grimaced and looked anywhere, but at me.

"Ignorant, ignorant, ignorant. And you're idiots," I chastised before I caught a glimpse of Becky Lew, who had been watching us. "Why is she looking at us?"

The guys seemed to sigh in relief at the same time. The topic had been changed.

Bryce relaxed beside me and threw an arm across the top of the booth. His hand brushed my shoulder.

"Because she's hot for Scout," Harris said with a cocky glint.

Bryce smirked and reached for his drink. His hand started to rub up and down against my shoulder.

He asked me, "You want something to eat?"

"I'm good."

"I could eat something. Let's go to Donadeli," Chet requested and the decision was made. The guys stood one by one and all trailed towards the door. I caught a sneer from Becky Lew, but she turned and flung an arm around some other guy. As we cleared the back section, I tucked my fingers inside of Bryce's back pocket and stopped him.

"Who's the guy?" I gestured behind us.

"Braven Locke. Why?"

Why? Because the guy next to him was salivating just as much and I remembered seeing that same guy with Leisha. She had been blushing and had even ducked her head, flirtatiously. I wanted to know, that's why.

"Is he friends with the other guy, the blonde?" That's who had caused Leisha to blush.

"I guess. His name is Carlos Hunstville." Bryce shrugged. "Why do you care?"

I shrugged and moved past him. When we got outside, I threw over my shoulder, "You're driving."

Bryce nodded and I sat shotgun with Harris in our backseat. Holster rode with Chet.

Bryce flipped some music on and it drowned out any conversation until he pulled into Donadeli's small parking lot. Donadeli was a locally owned Italian deli with red plush booths and floors that had polka-dotted tiles. They specialized in meatballs, but served sandwiches to the majority of their customers. The guys' liked the deli because they gave large helpings and Becky Lew's crowd generally looked down their noses at the Italian eatery. It was a place to hide when the mood struck.

I liked going to Donadeli because the owner's son had a crush on me.

"Hey Marcus," I said warmly, sultry, as we strolled inside.

He dropped the menus from his hand and stood paralyzed for a second, which didn't seem too far from his normal blank-eyed stare. I somewhat felt sorry for Marcus at times. He stood around five feet and nine inches. His hair were black strands that just seemed to hang off his scalp. And his eyes were always covered by his glasses. I never looked long enough to notice what color they were. Over all, Marcus was just blah and most of the time, he acted blah.

Bryce reached around me and grabbed a few before leading the way to our table. That was another thing. We sat where we wanted. We never waited to be seated. It had annoyed the owners at first, but Marcus must've said something for us because they never said anything.

I lingered at the hosting table and flirted with Marcus, my normal routine. This time, I got us free breadsticks and drinks, but Marcus said we needed to pay for the entrees. He almost choked in fear as he told me this.

He put our order through while I moved to the seat across from Bryce.

They all waited until I commented with a proud smile, "Breadsticks and drinks."

A collective 'nice' sounded around the table.

"And he put your orders in."

Another collective 'sweet' went around.

The guys always ordered the same thing. With the quick order, we usually got our food faster than the customers who'd already ordered before us.

Just then Corrigan dropped into the one empty seat nearest the aisle. He sighed dramatically and looked irritated.

Chet, Holster, and Harris quieted.

Bryce and I shared a look before I ventured, "What'd you do?"

Corrigan ignored me and griped, "Did you order already? Where the hell are our drinks?"

"Dude," Bryce said quietly, watching. "We just got here."

Corrigan swore and turned his chair around to straddle it. He looked a bit frazzled, but it was the anger in his tone that made my knot of dread double in size.

"What'd you do?" I asked again.

He ignored me again and asked abruptly, "What free stuff did you get us?"

I gave him a pointed look.

"I didn't do anything." He cursed. "Back off."

If anyone except Bryce had spoken to me like that, Corrigan would've been the first to throw a punch.

I never needed his protection before and I didn't need it now.

I slid a knife out from the silverware wrapped in a cloth napkin and stabbed it in his chair's cushion, right between his legs.

Corrigan yelped and jumped off the seat. Startled, he cursed some more before he settled back in his chair, now watchful.

He snapped, "What?!"

"What. Did. You. Do?"

"Are you going to jail for it?" Bryce asked instead.

"No. No jail." Corrigan answered Bryce and looked at me. "And I'll tell you later. It's not dinner talk, you know."

Fine.

Marcus brought the drinks and two orders of breadsticks. He grabbed another drink for Corrigan and said, with his head hung downwards, that he'd put in Corrigan's order too.

Corrigan ignored him and downed my drink. He stood up and refilled it behind the cook's doorway.

Marcus stood helpless behind him.

Corrigan returned to the table and sat it in front of me.

"You're a jerk," I murmured.

Corrigan shrugged, but he patted my knee underneath the table.

"So we got a game going." Chet spoke up and the conversation was off and running. Corrigan lapped it up. He wanted a distraction from whatever he didn't want to talk about.

A few minutes later, Marcus brought the drinks and our food wasn't too far behind. I sat back and poked at my salad as the guys talked more about soccer and Harris' party. They started planning an elaborate drinking game that consisted of a chart with relays when my phone rang.

I didn't recognize the number so I answered.

"Hi, sweetie," my mother's sickening sweet voice drawled across the other end.

I stilled and asked, tensely, "What do you want?"

"I wanted to let you know my new number, sweetie. You should've gotten my message, but I know you don't always think to check the house's line."

Her voice disgusted me and I had to take a deep breath to clear the nausea.

"Fine." It was all I could manage out as I choked on the inside.

"Honey." Only my mother could make concern sound like contempt. Not to mention condescension.

"I'm fine. Really." I gripped the phone harder, but I knew my face looked fine, probably a little bored.

"Do we need to talk about this? I want you to know, Sheldon Eva, that I am your mother and I love you very much."

Funny. She sounded like she'd been drinking.

She continued, "This is for the best. It really is. Your father and I just reached a point in the marriage when it was time to part ways."

"Did you sleep with someone?" It's something she'd do.

"Sweetie." Sharon hadn't liked that. She heaved a dramatic sigh. "Are you angry with me? This really is for the best. A harmonious parental unit benefits the child better. Neil and I were not harmonious. This is for you really, honey, more than your father and myself."

"What?" My eyes went cold. "Did you pick up that language in therapy?"

She was quiet for a moment and then said stiffly, "Your father and I did try some marital counseling."

"You went once and said it wasn't for you?" I guessed.

"Sheldon, you need to watch your tone with me."

"I am watching, Sharon. My tone is completely calm and ladylike. I am not angry," I bit out. "I am not bitter," I spat. "I am not sad," I chewed out. "And I am most certainly not feeling abandoned at all." I finished with a smile.

She drew a sharp breath and said flatly, "Fine."

"Fine."

"I love you, sweetheart."

"Sure you do," I said smoothly.

"I really do. I'll see you over the holidays."

"You're coming home for Thanksgiving?"

"Yes. I'll need to pack my things and look for a new home."

"And who'll be looking with you?"

"You don't need to worry about that. Just a little friend."

So she had slept with someone.

I asked, "You're still sleeping with him?"

She sucked in her breath again and admonished, "Sheldon Eva, I will not put up with your tone of voice any longer. You are to respect your mother. This is hard on all of us, trust me, but I think it's a bit more tiring on your father and myself. You've told us many times to get a divorce."

"Great, mom. So you're just fulfilling one of my wishes." If I could cut glass with my voice, it would've happened then and there.

She sighed, sounding rightfully tiresome. I rolled my eyes.

"Have you heard from your father?"

"Yes." I didn't share our conversation.

"Is he well?" Sharon really wanted to know what he'd said and if I loved him more than her.

"He is well." And I'll let you worry if I love my father more than you. You deserve it.

"Alright, well…I love you, sweetie."

I hung up.

The table had fallen silent throughout my entire conversation. I didn't need to look to know that Bryce and Corrigan were both watching like hawks.

I breathed out one clear breath and stood up.

"Where you going?" Corrigan said quickly.

"I'm going home." The calm was forced in my voice. I knew my eyes spoke volumes, but only to Corrigan and Bryce.

"Sheldon…" Bryce murmured.

"I'm fine. I'm going home to do schoolwork. Beg off…please." The request was sincere.

The guys took it as such and both remained in their seats.

The drive was too short for me. I had plenty to stew over and my hands shook as I parked in the garage and hit the button to close the garage door. I didn't look for any more notes or messages as I made a beeline for the case of beer still on the kitchen table.

I dropped my purse and at the same time I uncapped a beer. I downed that one and did another.

With three clenched in my fingers, I moved into my father's study. I decided to start with the computer and I effectively deleted every single business document he had kept as a reserve on the home computer. After I made another search, I emptied the trash can and then removed the hard-drive.

From the hidden liquor cabinet, I placed all the liquor bottles on his desk. When that was done, I grabbed a poker stick from the fireplace and swung it hard at every crystal vase in the library, every picture frame, every and anything that would break. I left the couches and chairs untouched and moved into my parent's bedroom with a bottle of bourbon in my hand.

With a knife in hand, I visited the closets and slashed the most expensive clothing. I threw all of Sharon's undergarments and lingerie into a box that'd go to a local thrift store. Neil's tuxedos were next for the knife. And all of the neckties, socks, and suits went into the thrift store box.

I ripped his shirts to pieces and let them fall on the floor.

The shoes—they'd started to go a little blurry by that time so I left them in one piece.

I lay on the couch in one of the rarely-used sitting rooms and thought I might save my mother a trip. I could hire some movers to pack it all up. She needn't bothered.

I'd decided to divorce my parents in turn, not like they'd even notice.

Chapter 11

When I woke up, I heard my cell phone beeping first. Bryce and Corrigan had called. And then I realized I heard scuffling from the inside of the house.

I glanced at the clock in the sitting room and saw it was 2:54 in the morning.

No doubt the scuffling was from the guys. They must've come looking for me.

Yawning, I made my way slowly down the back hallway. I knew it by heart so I left the lights untouched. Even though it was nighttime, the moonlight filtered in through the windows and lit the side hallways that ran around the house. I passed our backdoor and I was able to see the bench that ran the entire length of the wall. My mom had stored various items into bins that were all underneath that bench.

The dining room opened onto the kitchen. There were two hallways that connected to the dining room. I had walked down the side hallway that's never used.

So it was a bit disconcerting when I walked into the dining room and saw a man in the kitchen.

I didn't recognize him and he didn't know I was there. I had walked silently, like I always do, but the guy wasn't Bryce or Corrigan. He wasn't my father. And I hoped he wasn't my mom's newest bedmate.

Just then a walkie-talkie that was attached to his belt crackled to life. "Jimmy, are we clear?"

The guy snatched the radio from his belt's holster and answered, "That's a right-o, Jimmy John. We are in the clear."

"You've checked your entire section."

Jimmy sighed impatiently and snapped into the radio, "What did I just say? Did I not say that we are in the clear? That's a right-o."

It was surreal. He stood in the moonlight with his back turned to me and he was shifting through my kitchen's drawers. I stood thirty feet from him, five feet from my doorway.

If he had looked, I might've resembled a ghost.

My heart pounded in my ears and I stepped slowly, silently, backwards. He kept shuffling through the drawers and I kept reversing until I was hidden in the hallway. At the back door, I took a calming breath and kneeled on the floor. Blindly I felt around until I found the flap that kept our security keypad hidden from eyesight.

I coded in the alarm and a second later, an earsplitting alarm sounded throughout my home.

Jimmy cursed savagely. And I heard more curses and shouts.

"Jimmy, what the hell happened? That code came from your section. We aren't clear. We aren't clear!"

Jimmy dropped whatever had been in his hands and a second later, I heard his pounding footsteps on the floor.

He searched the dining room. I could see his shadow get bigger until it engulfed where I had kneeled.

I scooted back until I was curled in a small hole just underneath the bench, in between two of the bins.

Jimmy couldn't have seen me unless he walked into the back hallway and knelt literally right in front of me.

"There's an entire hallway back here," he cursed to himself.

He swept a flashlight beam up and down the hallway. It hit on some of the bins and just as he started down the hallway, his radio crackled, "The police are coming. We have to go, Jimmy."

Jimmy continued to curse, but turned and sprinted from the hallway. It only took another second until the front door slammed shut and I heard two pairs of vehicles squeal from my driveway.

I slowly crawled back from my hiding spot. My legs trembled so much, I couldn't quite stand so I crawled to one of the windows and pulled back the curtain.

I saw a lone figure dart across my yard, but it paused just before the shadows. It turned and I swear that it looked right at me. Startled, I dropped the curtain back in place and scooted into my hiding spot. I hugged my knees and rested my forehead against them until I heard my doorbell ringing.

My heart still pounded in my ear, but I was able to hear the doorbell.

Glancing up, feeling the blood drained from my face, I felt like weeping in relief when I saw the circling red lights of the police.

They rang the doorbell again and then knocked on the door with their batons.

It took me longer than normal because my legs were so unsteady, but I finally opened the door for them.

There were two of them. One was an older muscular guy that was balding on the head. His partner was a young blonde female. Both looked fit. Then I looked again and saw their grave expressions. The female stepped forward and asked, "Miss, we got a call from your security company. Can you tell us why it went off?"

The male stepped back and raised a hand to the radio he had clipped to his shoulder. I heard him requesting back-up officers.

"I…," I had to cough and clear my voice. "I…there were men in my home and I was the one who set the alarm."

"Are men still in your home, Miss?"

"No." I shook my head. "They heard the alarm and left."

"Could we do a quick search, Ma'am?"

I nodded and stepped from the front door onto the patio as both of them moved inside cautiously with their guns drawn and ready beside their hips.

It seemed forever, but the alarm was silenced and the female officer returned.

"My name is Officer Patterson. You can call me Sheila, if you'd like."

I nodded and sunk onto one of the patio loungers.

She stood above me. "Can you tell me what happened?"

I told her most of it. I left out the details about my mother, but I told them I had trashed most of my parent's belongings in the office and bedroom.

Sheila gave me a questioning look and raised an eyebrow. "You trashed your parent's belongings?"

"Just the important ones. I'm…they're getting a divorce and they told me over a voice message," I said numbly.

Sheila nodded like it made perfect sense. "We'll need you to do an inventory of what you damaged and cross-reference it with forensics to see if the burglars took anything or damaged anything further."

I nodded. Whatever.

"Do you have someone you'd like to call? We'll need you to come down to the station for an official report."

"Can I go in and get my cell phone?"

"Officer Milon will escort you inside, Miss Jeneve." Sheila nodded and stepped off the patio just as two more police cruisers pulled into the driveway.

As we walked around the kitchen and down the back hallway, I shivered as I passed my hiding spot. I knew that guy, whoever he had been, had seen me.

Once I got my phone, I was led back outside and into the front seat of Officer Sheila's car. That's when I called Corrigan's number first.

It rang and rang so I left a message.

I called Bryce next and he answered after the second ring.

"Sheldon?" he asked, tiredly. I heard him yawn and could envision him sitting up against his headboard.

"My house was broken into tonight."

"What?" He was wide awake now.

"Can you—can you meet me at the police station? I have to go there for a report."

"Yeah, yeah. Of course." I could hear him already dressing. "Are you okay?"

"Just come down, okay?"

"Okay. I'll be there as soon as possible."

"Thanks."

"Yeah. Sheldon—"

"Yes?"

"I'm glad you're okay," he said sincerely and it nearly broke me right then and there.

Hoarse, I murmured a thank you and hung up.

The police station looked different arriving as a victim rather than to post bail for a friend. It looked scary, threatening, and I had to blink back tears for the fourth time as Sheila parked her police cruiser.

She had me sit beside a desk and had left to get me a cup of coffee when Bryce walked through the door in sport pants and a hooded sweatshirt.

It was amazing really. I shouldn't have noticed, but immediately some of the cops turned a watchful eye on him. It was something about him—he exuded a silent demand about himself. It made sense that cops would instantly tune into that demand and be alert.

He ignored them and found me with his eyes.

Giving me a tender smile, Bryce nodded to me when one of the officers questioned him. The cop let him through and Bryce was beside me in a flash. He lifted me up and I was hugging onto him for dear life. I hadn't realized that I had wrapped my legs around his waist until Sheila coughed discreetly behind us.

"Let go, Sheldon," Bryce murmured in my ear and I unwound my legs.

Sheila gave us both a small smile and indicated a chair beside another desk for Bryce to grab. He did and he sat beside me, leaning in his chair, looking relaxed and a little bored.

As I gave my official report, I saw that Sheila frowned a few times in Bryce's direction, but she never made a comment. Bryce was either worshiped or disliked. He wasn't a bad guy, he just came off as one to people.

We stayed at the station for an hour. Bryce had looked at me strangely when Sheila had asked me to list the items that I had damaged. They wanted to know where I had placed the computer's hard-drive, when my last communication had been with my parents, when my mother was returning home, and etc.

Sheila asked if I had a place to stay. They'd want to get back into the house the next day.

Bryce spoke for the first time, "She'll stay at my place."

"What?" I asked. "With your mom there?"

He shrugged and seemed to settle back in his chair.

"Alright." Sheila gave Bryce another perusal, but only said, "We'll contact you if we think of any more questions."

Bryce stood and waited for me. He followed behind with a hand in the small of my back as we made our way into the waiting area. Just as we turned the corner, I glanced over my shoulder and saw Sheila frowning. Her eyes locked and held with mine. I contained a shiver from the dark concern in those eyes.

Just as we pushed through the doors, we watched as Corrigan drove past us and slammed on his brakes. He was out of the car in a flash and left his door hanging open to rush over to us.

"Are you okay?" he asked as he swept me in his arms much the same as Bryce had. My legs didn't wind around his waist, but I hugged him tightly. He squeezed once more and as he sat me down on my feet, he ran a hand over my hair. "I got your message. I was so…"

"I'm fine. Really," I said with a gracious smile. I was getting there.

Bryce asked, "Where were you?"

Corrigan's gaze switched to Bryce and he straightened abruptly. His hand fell away from me as he took a step backwards.

"I was sleeping. What's your problem?"

"She needed both of us, a-hole. You should've been here."

"What are you pissy at me for?" Corrigan asked, confused and slightly defensive.

Bryce opened his mouth to say something, closed it again, and walked towards his car.

"What is he mad at me for?" Corrigan switched his confusion to me.

I shrugged and wrapped my arms around me. "He wants to blame someone."

Corrigan rolled his eyes and shot out, "He shouldn't blame me. I'm not the one who broke into your place."

I winced.

Corrigan swore. "I'm sorry, Sheldon. I wasn't thinking."

I shrugged him off. With a tight grin, I said softly, "Its fine. I'm fine. I'm alive."

"Sheldon!" Bryce called from his car.

"Where are you guys going? Do you need a place to stay?" Corrigan scowled in Bryce's direction.

"I'm going to stay at his place."

"With his mother?"

He understood too.

"That's what I said, but whatever."

"Oh…okay. Well, if you need help, call me." Corrigan flashed a reassuring smile and hugged me once more. By that time, Bryce had pulled the car beside us and I smiled grimly at Corrigan as I got inside.

The ride was quiet, but I was okay with that. I wasn't up for conversation, not at that moment. At one point I shivered and Bryce quickly switched the heat on.

I fought back tears and then cursed my own weakness.

When Bryce pulled up to his house and as he parked in the garage, I asked, "Are you sure?"

"Yes," Bryce said firmly.

At the door, he grabbed my hand, shut off the garage light and opened the door. He didn't turn the lights on inside, but led me through his family's kitchen, dining room, and down to his bedroom.

He turned the light on when he closed his bedroom door.

Bryce started to change clothes and I moved into his bathroom.

When I came back in, he stood up from his desk and passed behind me.

I slid underneath his sheets and closed my eyes. The routine was so familiar and I knew it's what I needed. I fought back tears again, but rolled over to bury my head in Bryce's pillows.

It didn't take long before I heard the bathroom door open and his light switched off. Bryce slid in beside me and tucked the sheets around us both as he flipped on his stomach to lay one arm over my waist.

I sighed and tucked my head against his shoulder just before I fell asleep.

Chapter 12

Both of us jumped awake to a slammed door.

"What the hell?" Bryce groaned and ran a tired hand over his face. When his little sister let loose with a blood-curdling scream, he sighed again and moved to the edge of the bed.

I yawned and curled on my side as I pulled the bedcovers over me again.

Bryce stood up, shirtless, in his basketball shorts and padded barefoot out the door. He banged on a door and I heard him mediating between his seven-year-old sister, Savannah, and his fourteen-year-old brother, Luca.

The two were water and oil. And their mother never helped. She either scolded, threatened, or placated. She never disciplined. That was what Bryce told me once and I'd seen enough to agree with him.

From what I could overhear, Luca was sick and vomiting in the bathroom. Savannah needed the bathroom because she felt the same. And a second later Bryce's bedroom door flew open and Savannah let loose another scream as she scuttled to an abrupt stop on her way to her older brother's bathroom.

"Mooom!"

I groaned and pulled a pillow over my head.

Savannah stayed put.

"Mom! Mom! Mom! Bryce has a girl in his bed! Bryce has a girl in his bed! It's her, mom!"

Savannah might not have liked me, but AnnaBelle Scout liked me even less. In fact, I think she hated me at times and secretly, I didn't think it was because I was tight with her son. I think she was just jealous I wasn't ladylike and I still got her son.

Bryce swept into the room, tucked Savannah underneath one arm, and removed her. He shut the door and I heard him talking on the other side.

There was silence and then Savannah screamed again, slightly muffled, "Mom! Mom! Quick, before she jumps out the window."

"Shut up!" Bryce snapped.

A second later, he walked inside and sat on the bed's edge.

"I am not hiding from your mother," I said softly, seriously.

"I know." He yawned and ran a hand through his Mohawk, which looked flat in the morning.

A knock sounded at the door.

Bryce groaned deep in his throat before he stood and opened the door.

There was AnnaBelle Scout, a shimmering brunette vision. Her glare was ominous as she stood, already prim and proper in her silk chiffon dress and perfectly manicured hairstyle.

All in all, his mother was petite, beautiful, and the perfect lady.

She never drank. She never smoked. And I really thought that she'd never had sex.

"Bryce Elliot Scout." It was all she said.

"Mom…" Bryce started, exhausted.

I huddled in the corner and glared from underneath his bedcovers.

"You know how I feel about this girl," she continued sternly. "I have resigned myself to the fact that you insist on a friendship with her, but I forbid you to further any romantic notions. You need a good girl with morals and a family upbringing that meet your standards."

"Your standards, Mom," Bryce argued as he stood and looked at his mother. "This is my life. You've already got my future mapped out, but this is my life right now."

"You're a bitch," I said softly.

AnnaBelle gasped and whirled to me. Bryce had taken the heat from me and even shifted on his feet so she wouldn't look at me. I was done with him taking the heat for me.

"Excuse me?" she asked coldly.

I sat up and knew the skimpy tank-top would enrage her further. Sweetly, I said, "You heard me."

Bryce frowned, but he didn't say anything.

"I will not tolerate disrespect in my home—"

"Then get out," I interrupted quickly and let the bedcovers fall to reveal my underwear and bare legs. I regretted not wearing a thong instead of my boxer underwear, but at least they were made of black lace.

Her eyes widened.

I explained, "You just said that you won't tolerate my disrespect, but you're pretty damned disrespectful to me."

AnnaBelle Scout huffed in righteous indignation. "You will get out," she managed to bark through her clamped lips. "You will get out now."

"With pleasure." I glared right back.

Bryce moved to grab a tee shirt and his mother snapped out, "You will not leave this house."

"Mom," he sighed. "I have to drive her. She doesn't have a ride."

AnnaBelle ignored her son's comment, but seethed towards me instead, "You are the vilest girl that I could ever wish for my son. You will leave my home and never set foot here again." She stopped and turned back, with a sniff, "I will pray for your soul, Sheldon."

And the wicked witch of the Scout household was gone.

"I hate her. I hate her. I hate her." I exclaimed. "Let's have sex right now."

"Sheldon."

"And make it loud."

"I still have to live here, remember?" Bryce muttered as he went into the bathroom.

I fell back on the bed and moaned, seductively.

"Stop it," came from the bathroom.

I gasped huskily.

"I mean it."

"Make me beg, Bryce." I whispered, throatily.

Bryce came back to the room and shook his head, but his eyes darkened when I smiled, seductively, from the bed. And then he scooped up my clothes and tossed them at me. "Come on, we can grab some breakfast or something. I don't want to stay in this house longer than necessary."

I rolled my eyes, but moved to dress quickly. Bryce waited by the door until I was ready and then held the door for me.

As we left, the house was blanketed in complete silence.

Bryce laughed and remarked, "She took them out, probably to church."

"To brainwash them."

On the kitchen counter, he'd been left a sternly-worded letter to return home as soon as possible. He should expect severe consequences for his outlandish behavior.

He rolled his eyes at the note, but I ripped it in shreds and let the pieces fall from my hands.

When we got into his car, he asked, "Did you really want to get breakfast?"

"I can go for breakfast—or lunch." Bryce had borrowed me a shirt, but I kept my same jeans since I'd fallen asleep in them after my rampage. I even looked presentable by his heinous mother's standards.

It was our usual lunch period and when we got to Café Diner, we saw our normal crowd lingering at the table. They greeted Bryce with high fives and slaps on the back. Each of the guys gave me a friendly greeting while the girls just glared hatred. Like always. Becky Lew seemed even nastier than normal because she didn't hide the loathing when she looked at me.

That was different.

Corrigan was already at the table and he looked up, met my gaze, and traveled to Bryce. Whatever he saw there didn't agree with him because he shoved away from the table and stalked out of our section to sit at another table.

Of course, he chose appropriately. The table was full of blushing sophomores who revealed a little more of their scooped necklines in front of Corrigan's gaze.

Bryce didn't say anything, but sat in an empty booth in the back corner.

"Are you serious?" I asked.

Bryce shrugged and ordered some drinks for us.

Annoyed, I turned and walked over to Corrigan's table.

He quieted when he saw me coming.

"Hey," he said, guarded.

"Hey."

He nodded behind me, "He's still mad at me for absolutely nothing."

I shrugged. "It's not my problem."

"Whatever," Corrigan cried out, louder than he had intended. He quieted his voice, "It's because of what happened with you. I was sleeping—I'm sorry."

"Look, just apologize to him."

"I didn't do anything."

"Apologize and we'll all be fine."

"Not me," he retorted.

The sophomores were a captive audience.

"Do it for me."

"Wha—" His initial protest died in his throat. He looked at me with renewed eyes as he remembered and asked, "How are you? Are you okay?" His smile flashed, "You want a piggy-back ride?"

"Good." I pushed it to the back of my mind—once more.

"Okay." He didn't believe me, but I knew he wouldn't push it.

"Apologize for me?"

"Fine." It was wrenched out of him, painfully and slowly. Corrigan sounded like he was being tortured.

"Good!" I sent a beaming smile his way and turned back to slide into Bryce's booth. Chet, Harris, and a guy named Seth Haugen had taken residence around the booth. They were chatting with him and continued when our food orders were taken.

When our food and drinks came, they departed only to be replaced by Becky Lew and Mandy Justice. Mandy was alright by my standards. She was one of the smarter girls in our class and she'd refrained from joining the cheerleading squad. She'd been the Senior Editor of the yearbook last year and everyone knew she'd be the same this year. Plus, she was loyal and funny. The only downfall: she was friends with Becky Lew for some insane reason.

Becky said warmly, "Hi, Bryce. We missed you in class this morning."

Gag.

"Hi, Becky," I said loudly and sent her a sweet smile.

She managed to restrain a look of disgust, but smiled back and replied in a bland voice, "Hello, Sheldon. How are you? You haven't been around that much this week."

"Parent's divorce. My house was broken into. I kinda had a lot going on."

She froze in surprise, but with an eye blink, it was gone. Only to be replaced by the robot cheerleader façade once more.

No sympathy for me.

Instead she turned to Bryce and cooed, "No wonder you've been exhausted this week. You're such a good friend, even loaning Sheldon your clothes."

Bryce gave a full smile and remarked, "I like Sheldon in my clothes."

I coughed back a laugh.

Becky scowled, blinked, and smiled. She ran a hand down his arm and gushed, "I'd love to wear your shirt."

"There's a requirement," I stated matter-of-factly. "You gotta satisfy him first."

Bryce choked back the laugh this time. He failed and had every table in the back section glance towards us in curiosity. It was known that Bryce Scout did not laugh.

"I think I could manage that," she said, meltingly.

I choked back the vomit.

The urge to kick her was really tempting. Her shin was in perfect position. I could kick and smile like it never happened.

"Ow," Becky complained and glared at Mandy. "What?"

Mandy had beaten me to it, but with an elbow to Becky's side.

Mandy nudged her again and indicated towards the front entrance. She moved aside and we all saw Chad Yerling stroll into the diner. If he had looked awful after Bryce's beating, he looked like he survived a bomb this time.

And the crazy look in his eyes didn't help.

He had bruises everywhere, two busted lips, only one good eye, and the way he walked—at least three broken ribs.

As he neared Corrigan's table, the two eyed each other in shared hatred.

Yerling passed by to enter the back section and he stopped when Chet, Seth Haugen, Harris, and a half dozen other guys stood up. A moment passed and then they all walked out.

It was another surreal moment.

A rift had occurred among the best of the best. Chad Yerling, second only to Corrigan and Bryce, had now been ostracized by all the guys in his grade. If he looked for friends underneath our grade, good luck to him. I highly doubted it.

He only stood with five or so friends behind him and they'd never be mistaken as one of the 'best.'

When I looked at Bryce, he was staring at Corrigan who was staring back at him.

They shared an unspoken message and I saw approval flicker in Bryce's eyes.

Becky abruptly left with Mandy trailing behind anxiously.

"Did you know?" I asked underneath my breath.

Bryce didn't answer, but he didn't need to. I saw that he had. He probably participated.

"Why?"

Bryce shrugged and finished eating his food.

Sometimes my two best friends pissed me off. Sometimes they did things and wouldn't tell me. And sometimes I knew I should love them for it. Then and there, I knew it was a battle that I wouldn't win so I dropped it and finished my orange juice. I left the rest of my food. I'd lost my appetite that rarely reared its head.

When we were done, most of the 'good' students had left to return to school. Corrigan and some others remained, content to skip, sit, and chat.

Bryce and I stopped by Corrigan's table as we passed to leave.

"Hey, uh…" Corrigan cleared his throat. "You were right, man. I'm sorry."

I was happy again.

Bryce gave him a stiff nod in response and both visibly relaxed after that.

"So…" Corrigan started, shifting between me and Bryce. "What are you guys doing now?"

"I need to go home," I told him.

"Hey, man," Corrigan threw in. "You wanna head to my place for the afternoon?"

Bryce nodded and we left as if there'd been no rift between the two.

The sophomore girls were disappointed, but I flicked them off behind my back. I felt perversely satisfied now.

I heard Corrigan bark out a laugh just as the door closed behind me.

Bryce dropped me off at home and I showered, changed, and looked around for damages. Officer Patterson had left a message on my machine that they'd searched the house and cross-referenced their list of damaged property with mine. She had the full report for me to look over, if I felt it was warranted. She also had a few follow-up questions, but those could be handled at a later date. All in all, I was given the okay to clean-up.

I first started by ordering a different alarm system. When they got there, I went downstairs until they were done. After I'd gotten instructions for setting the alarm, I showered again and lay down in bed, but only after I grabbed my dad's Colt.45. I slid it inside a shelf in my nightstand. With my bedroom door locked, I curled under the blankets and fell asleep, hoping I wouldn't wake to another AnnaBelle reincarnation.

When I woke up, I realized that I'd slept for seven hours.

Violated security was more exhausting than I realized.

And then I heard what had woken me up in the first place, someone was ringing the doorbell.

For a girl who lived alone, it was pretty hard to get some alone time.

With a face-stretching yawn, I made my way downstairs and checked the window first. It was Mena and she looked frantic. When she lifted to poke the doorbell again, I threw open the door and gasped, "Please no more."

Mena flushed. "Sorry. I knew you were here, but probably asleep since you didn't answer right away."

"Or I was hoping to ignore you, but you annoyed me to death," I deadpanned and Mena followed me inside.

I grabbed an ice tea and hopped onto one of the counters. Mena sat on a stool as I dangled my feet over the counter's edge.

"Uh…so are you still going to that party?"

"What party?"

Self-conscious, Mena clarified, "That party that you were supposed to invite me to…remember?"

Harris' party. Friday night. Corrigan had asked me to bring her.

"I guess so," I sighed. I'd forgotten about it.

"Um….," She bit her lip, unsure of what to do or say. I was used to the expression so it was pretty easy to pinpoint. Leisha looked at me that way a lot. The only two who didn't were Bryce and Corrigan.

"Yeah. Let's go." I made my decision.

"It's, like, ten already."

I'd slept longer than I had realized. I almost slept the entire day.

"Fine. I gotta get ready."

As I put my glass away, Mena stayed in place and glanced around the room.

"You can come with me." I indicated upstairs.

"Oh." She sent me foolish smile. "Sorry, I didn't know."

I waved her off.

"So you weren't in school today," Mena murmured, conversationally.

"No."

As we passed the library's door, Mena gasped, "Oh my god. What happened?"

"That's kind of personal, don't you think?" I teased, but when she flushed in embarrassment again, I relented, "I spent a day destroying my papa's things. I'm not all that happy with my parents right now. Plus, my house was broken into last night."

Mena was quiet.

"Don't worry. I don't think they're trolling the neighborhood. The cops said that they singled my house for a reason." I drawled, "Let me tell you, not real settling to the stomach."

Mena relaxed a little, but fiddled with her hands.

I was beginning to agree with Bryce. She was weird.

In my bedroom, Mena eyed the bed warily and perched on the littlest amount of bed possible.

I burst out laughing as I pulled out a translucent chiffon wrap. "The sheets are clean. Trust me. I've had a maid in here since the last time Bryce spent the night. She comes in once every two weeks."

"Oh." She didn't look reassured.

I showered quick and pulled on a pair of khakis jeans that hugged my hips. I wore a pale pink chiffon top that crossed between my breasts. I left the bra behind, but that was alright. Even though the top didn't look like it, my breasts were firmly supported in place and tucked from escaping.

As I did my hair, I murmured, "So where were you? You missed some days of school too…right?"

"Uh…yeah." She fidgeted with her hands some more and finally sat on them. With a flush in her cheeks, she said brightly, "I wasn't feeling that well."

"You looked fine when we saw you at the coffee place."

"I know, but Denton was right. I was a little nauseous that day. The coffee didn't help."

I noticed the glitter that shimmered off of her curls.

"You look nice," I said honestly.

Startled, Mena looked up and I saw a flicker of guilt flash in her eyes. It was quickly gone and replaced with appreciation.

"Thanks," she mumbled.

She did look nice. She was dressed in a white cashmere sweater with a bow-tie that circled the bottom swell of her breasts and tied in the back. Though her jeans were simple, they were stylish and rich. The girl looked like she came from money and she did. Her lips were frosted pink and her eyes were highlighted by white eye-shadow that gave her an innocent, yet knowing look. The boys would go crazy.

Chapter 13

When we arrived at the party, Harris stumbled over to us. He wore a shirt with eight vertical strips of blue tape on it. After he greeted us drunkenly with beer-sloshed arms and a slur in the eyes, I regarded him, "Let me guess. The eight pieces of tape are for the eight drinks that you've had."

His smile exuded booze, but it was still blinding. Harris was a very good looking boy with ruby-red lips that would never need to be touched-up by a camera. His golden locks were misted almost perfectly with sweat. The drunk look worked for him.

"No, no. Eight beer bongs." That was said so matter of fact.

"Where's the rest of the gang?"

Harris shifted and gestured towards the backyard.

"Thanks, Harris." I patted him on the arm and winked at Mena. Harris was busy skimming her figure up and down while she stood in place, self-conscious.

She looked about to say something, but I was quickly swallowed in the crowd.

Harris' entire backyard was crawling with other students. Most stood in smaller groups and cliques, talking and drinking. Some couches had been placed around a bonfire near the patio and I saw Corrigan sitting there with Bryce beside him. Collette Chantal sat on the arm of Bryce's couch. Her legs weren't crossed over his, but her knee rested against him.

It should've enraged me, right?

It didn't.

"Sheldon!" Corrigan's face lit up as he threw his arms in the air. "Come here, girl!"

Corrigan was feeling pretty good. Bryce looked a little glazed over too, which surprised me a little. Even though he drank, he rarely got drunk.

That could not be said for Corrigan.

Collette stayed in place with a look of defiance on her face when she saw me approaching.

Corrigan threw an arm around my waist and I was tipped into his lap.

Uncomfortable, I managed to crawl out from underneath Corrigan's suddenly exploring hands. He managed a few grabs until I finally—accidentally—placed my knee over a certain anatomical organ of his.

As he sucked in his breath from the pain, I moved to the middle.

Collette was eyeing me with disdain by this time.

Bryce had been watching the show in amusement.

"You look rested," he murmured.

"I am. I slept all day."

Corrigan whooped. "That just means you can party all night, Shell!"

I had nothing better to do and just to piss off Chantal, who now had her hand on Bryce's arm; I grinned slyly and raised myself to capture Bryce's lips in a melting kiss.

Bryce's hand moved around and swiftly deposited me in his lap.

I wrapped an arm around the back of his neck and let it hang loose as we continued kissing.

When we pulled apart, Corrigan had an enraptured look on his face.

Chantal was suddenly cramped, but she held firm and didn't leave. I had to give the girl some credit for that.

Bryce kissed me again and asked, against my lips, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." I feathered him with another kiss and then stood up. "But I need a drink."

One of the guys stumbled to his feet from his haste. "I'll get you one. Stay. Please."

The other guys were grinning like idiots.

I sat back down, but I moved in between Corrigan and Bryce this time.

"Hey, Corrigan, I brought who you wanted me to bring."

"Who's that?" So many girls, too little time. Mena had already been forgotten.

"Mena."

"Oh…oh!"

Bryce chuckled and murmured, "Going for number two, Corr?"

Corrigan licked his lips and salivated. "I just might be." He jumped up and asked, "Where is she?"

"I left her at the door with Harris. You better go quick."

And off he went with a little stumble here and there, but he made it through the door upright.

"What happened with Becky? Where'd she go?" Tatum asked, materializing on the other side of Chantal.

"She took off," Chantal said coolly as she flipped her golden hair back.

Tatum asked, amused, "She took off or she got off?"

The guys laughed and Chantal rolled her eyes. "Get another joke, Tatum."

"Whatever," he shrugged and sat beside me. "How you doing, Sheldon?"

"I'm good, Tatum. How are you?" I responded, reserved. He was in a weird mood. He was normally scary, serious, and/or bored. Right now, he was joking, smiling, and alive. "Are you high?" I asked and leaned forward.

Tatum gave me a weird look and replied, "No. Why. You got something?"

"Sheldon Jeneve on drugs. That's new." Acid dripped from Chantal as she sneered at me.

"Tsk, tsk, Chantal." I grinned. "Showing me your teeth just shows me how big your bite is."

She rolled her eyes and sniffed, "Whatever, Sheldon. You know, Becky's right about you."

"About me? Enlighten me, please." This was starting to get interesting.

"She says that you've slept with everyone. The only reason you're friends with Bryce and Corrigan are because you sleep with them."

"That's it?" I was actually disappointed. "No threesome? No kinky behind the back doggy stuff? Nothing except that I sleep with everyone?"

"You can have a threesome with me, myself, and I," Tatum suggested and patted my knee.

"Sounds like you're doing just fine by yourself. There's no room for me in that threesome."

Tatum frowned.

Bryce laughed.

And I was pretty sure Chantal was still figuring out the math.

Mena rushed up to us. "Please help me."

She squeezed in between Tatum and myself and let out a deep breath.

"Help you from what?" Chantal asked as she readjusted her top. Her boobs got bigger and the guys all watched.

"Corrigan," Mena exclaimed. "He doesn't stop."

"Let's not tell the police that," Bryce said dryly.

Mena flushed and mumbled, "You know what I mean."

"Where's your psycho brother?" Bryce leaned forward to see her better.

Mena shifted underneath his scrutiny.

I watched Bryce intently. I wasn't sure I liked where this might be heading.

"What do you mean?" Mena asked.

"I mean, where's your brother? I have a hard time believing he'd want you to hang out with Sheldon."

Chantal's interest piqued as she stopped moving her halter top around.

"What is it with family members not liking me?" I joked.

Amusement flashed across Bryce as he pointed out, "Luca likes you."

"Luca is a fourteen year-old boy. If he didn't like me, we'd know he likes the other side."

"Good point." He looked back at Mena. "Seriously. Is your brother going to show up here tonight? Does he have GPS attached to your phone or something? Is he going to show up at Sheldon's tomorrow morning?"

I tensed. I really didn't like the idea of people at my house anymore. Or myself being there alone when an angry brother showed up.

"What's with the interrogation?" Chantal piped up. She pursed her frosted red lips farther out. One of the guys groaned.

"My brother's on-location. He's not even around."

Bryce relaxed slightly and sat back.

Mena muttered, "Is this what all the parties are like? I didn't know I'd get attacked by your boys, Sheldon."

My eyes sparked at that. "What are you talking about?" I asked.

Chantal purred, enjoying the change in conversation.

Mena bristled uncomfortably. "I mean," she swallowed. "I didn't mean anything."

"No, you did. What did you mean?"

"I just meant…come on. Corrigan throws himself at me inside and Bryce is doing twenty-questions out here. What happened to just 'here's a drink, now sit and flirt'?" She laughed nervously.

"I think your 'hazing' is nothing compared to what your brother said to me."

Bryce leaned forward and watched us intently.

"What are you talking about?" Mena stilled.

Bryce swore and demanded, "Like you don't know. You were at the house when we got back. We were getting out of the car at midnight when you showed up. That's freaky."

I sucked my breath in. Whether Bryce had meant to or not, he'd just destroyed Mena's social credibility. I didn't care about rumors or gossip, mainly because it was junk and normally about me. However, when Bryce Scout said that he thought someone was freaky, so did everyone else.

I almost heard Chantal's own snub as she giggled in delight.

Mena paled.

"Look," I said, a little gentler. "Bryce is right. You knew Denton came to talk to me and you knew what he was going to say. He said some pretty harsh stuff to me, and he still hit on me. So between the two of us, I think I was the one attacked."

"That's because you two kept baiting him."

"Because he's weird," Bryce bit out and stood up. "I don't like the fucker."

He walked away and Mena looked at me helplessly.

"Was it bad? What he said to you?"

"Yeah." It was the truth. "It was pretty low."

"I'm sorry."

I heaved a sigh. I didn't know what the hell to do now.

Chantal asked, a malicious innocence on her face, "So…is your brother Denton Steele?"

Wariness flashed over Mena before she said, "Yeah."

"That dude's gay," Tatum grumbled and walked off. The rest of the guys followed except one, who was intent on Chantal's boobs.

Bryce had started it and the other guys followed in line.

I'd only felt pity a handful of times and this was one of those times. I pitied Mena.

Chantal sniffed and stood. Another halter-top readjustment was followed with a shift of her mini-skirt.

"Why do you wear clothes like that if you have to constantly do that?" Mena asked, coolly.

Chantal gave her a blinding smile and replied sweetly, "Because it drives the guys crazy."

When she left, I leaned over and whispered, "And it earns you a reputation as a whore."

Mena gave me a wan smile. "Sorry. I just saw my social career crumble into dust."

"I'm sorry." I meant it.

"I know. I don't think Bryce was even thinking. He was just concerned about you."

I coughed.

Mena continued, scornfully, "And what is her name? What is her problem, anyway?"

"Collette Chantal. She's a plastic booby Barbie."

"She's a bit plump to be a Barbie."

"Yeah, but…the guys seem to like the extra meat."

"I should just leave," Mena sighed in resignation. "The rest of the night is going to be awful. Everyone's going to turn on me pretty soon. They're going to throw peanuts like I'm a monkey in the zoo or something." Mena moaned.

I patted her knee. "I'm not going anywhere. They wouldn't dare throw peanuts at me."

"Right. It'll just happen when you're not by my side. Besides, you're going to disappear with Bryce tonight anyway."

I shifted again, uncomfortable.

"Let's get something else to drink," I announced and dragged her behind. Inside the kitchen, where the keg had been placed, Bryce and the guys all stood around it. Corrigan spotted us and stumbled over. He threw an arm around both of our shoulders and announced, "So…I heard there was talk about a threesome." He grinned stupidly. "How about it, ladies?"

I smiled as I slid a hand downwards.

Corrigan held his breath, his eyes widened.

And I pulled his zipper up, purposely catching on something.

Corrigan howled in pain.

I laughed, "That's what you get for walking around with your pants open, Corrigan."

"You are such a…," he fumed.

I waited with an eyebrow raised.

"I hate you," he growled and limped away to grab an icepack.

I laughed in delight.

Mena had been quiet the entire time, but she murmured now, "I don't think I could be friends with you guys. You guys have your own rules or something. You're vicious to each other."

I caught an ice-pack from Bryce and chucked it at Corrigan's back. He turned and glared before he bent to place it over his groin.

"It's called respect, Mena," I remarked. "You have to earn it before you can demand it."

Mena stayed as I pushed through the crowd.

I hadn't gone far before I spotted Mandy Justice flirting with two guys that I remembered from the cafeteria. One of the guys had been talking to Leisha. "Mandy," I called out and Mandy's eyes widened in alarm. "Hi."

"Hey, Sheldon," she replied, guarded.

"Who are your friends?" I asked, flirtatiously.

"Uh…" She shifted and said shortly, "This is Braven and Carlos."

"Hi!" I stuck a hand out.

Even though I didn't pay attention to most gossip, I knew my social hierarchy. At first, I thought Carlos was in Leisha's group, but when I saw him next to Braven—that changed things. That put him in a much higher position. Braven was a Bryce or Corrigan for his grade. That meant that Carlos would be there too and it wasn't a shock to see some of the more-popular senior girls flirting with them.

Braven looked to be the leader because he spoke up, "Hi."

Carlos nodded and watched.

"I know your friend Leisha." I ignored Braven and remarked to Carlos.

"Oh yeah?" Interest sparked in him and he murmured, "She's great, isn't she?"

"I like her," I said meaningfully to Mandy, who moved her hand from Carlos' arm. "She's funny. She's a little nerdy, but it works for her."

"I had hoped she'd come tonight." Carlos leaned closer. "But I don't see her anywhere."

"Maybe you should call her. She might come then."

"I don't know."

"I do. Call her."

Braven spoke up, "I thought you were hoping that Cassie chick was here?"

Carlos ducked his head. "So?"

"Cassandra Bens is good for one thing. If you're looking for a girl with class, I'd lay odds on Leisha any day," I spoke up.

Braven snorted in disbelief just as he was pushed out of the way.

I found myself staring into Chad Yerling's malicious eyes. There was nothing innocent in that gaze as he skimmed me up and down.

"What are you doing, Yerling?" I asked, stiffly.

He stepped closer to me and whispered, "I came to collect."

"Collect what? Another beating?"

"Your boys can come after me all they want, but they won't be able to beat it out of me what I'm going to do to you."

Carlos muttered, "Uh, dude…I don't think…"

"Back off, loser," Chad snarled.

Braven suddenly pushed in between us. With his back to me, he growled in Chad's face, "You might want to get out of here before you're sent to the hospital."

Chad smiled and it sent shivers down my back.

"Look at you." He looked Braven up and down. "You think you can hurt me, little boy?"

Carlos stood beside him.

Chad rolled his eyes.

"You two are pathetic." He sneered and met my gaze. "You and me, Jeneve. That's what it's going to be one of these nights. Scout can't always be there and even if he is, it'll be one to all my buddies. You do the math."

His eyes caught something over my shoulder and he froze.

Bryce stepped around me, grabbed Yerling by the throat, and dragged him out the door.

Corrigan stood at the door and closed it behind them as Bryce passed through. Neither of them looked at me, but Yerling did.

I felt that shiver again.

Braven and Carlos watched me, guardedly.

My little finger trembled so I stuffed my hands into my front pockets.

I gritted my teeth and pushed through the crowd to follow. Chet was at the door and he caught me around the waist as I reached for the door handle.

"No, Sheldon."

"Get off," I snapped and reached again.

"It's not just you," Chet reasoned in my ear as he held me back. "We can't have him here. He'll hurt someone again."

"God forbid that you guys say something to the cops about it," I cried out. "God forbid that he's not just locked up. That means that you guys would have to narc on him."

It was a stupid code. The guys ruled and governed each other, but a nark was the lowest of the low.

"Corrigan said something and they didn't do anything," Chet sighed. "This is what we can do. Corrigan already put him in the hospital for a few days. We don't know what else to do, short of killing him. We're open to suggestions."

I had none. My only solution was to hide a Colt.45 by my bed.

I turned away and grabbed another drink from the keg. I wasn't up for conversation and high school drama, so I found an empty room upstairs.

It was gorgeous outside. The sky was cloudless so the stars sparkled bright. With the soft breeze, some leaves were carried over the yard and a few hit the window glass where I stood. I sipped on my plastic cup.

I listened to the party, alone, but it didn't seem long before I heard Bryce's voice down the hallway. A second later, he kicked the door open and he walked inside, carrying cups while balancing three pitchers of beer. Corrigan followed behind with another three pitchers of beer and he kicked the door shut with his foot.

Bryce placed the pitchers on the nightstand before he turned and took the rest from Corrigan. As Corrigan bounced on the bed, Bryce poured the beer.

"So is he in the hospital?" I asked, guardedly. I wasn't sure how I felt about it all.

Corrigan ignored me and continued to bounce on the bed.

"This is a good bed." Corrigan looked at Bryce. "We should steal this bed."

"And you can be the one to tell Harris who stole it when he's going to ask around." Bryce sat against the wall, beside my feet.

"You think he'd even care?"

"His dad would care."

"Isn't his dad some general in the army or something?" I asked.

"Never mind," Corrigan said quickly. "Your friend Mena took off. She said something about running the warpath? Just as friendly as I remembered."

"You're not going to answer me, are you?" I drank my beer.

Corrigan glanced at me. I knew then that he wouldn't. "Hey, uh…if Bryce isn't over at your place, you call me."

"And the douche will wake up this time," Bryce pointed out.

Corrigan glared. "I already said I was sorry. It was four in the morning."

"I answered," Bryce remarked. "I was there."

"Shut up. Both of you. We're not going round three." I needed them. I needed them to not fight.

Both shut up and nodded.

I chuckled and moved to sit on Bryce's lap and stayed there the rest of the night as the guys drank and chatted. They talked sports, hunting, how fake Chantal's boobs were, and anything else.

I sipped my beer and stayed in Bryce's shelter, content.

Chapter 14

We stayed in that room until Corrigan's stomach growled loudly. There'd been one look shared between the two guys and both announced at the same time, "The diner." It was agreed and as we went downstairs, we left with another two cars of guys following. Everyone piled into the diner and we took up two tables. I found myself beside Corrigan with Bryce across the table. After I ordered a refill, my phone rang.

I answered, guarded, "Hello?" I hadn't had good luck with phone calls lately.

"Where the hell is my sister?!" Denton ground out, furious.

I was actually a little bit relieved. "Uh…she's not home?"

"No, she's not home. Where is she?"

"I don't know. Did you call her phone?" Brother or not, the guy was starting to get on my nerves.

"I don't know. Do you think I'm a moron?" Denton mocked me.

"Uh…" He did not just give me the perfect opening…

"Don't answer that. I don't know where my sister is and I know she went to some party with you tonight."

"Look, she left early. I don't know where she went."

"How'd she get there?"

"I drove."

"Did you drive her home?"

"No," I said sharply. "Your sister's a big girl. She can take care of herself."

"My sister is not like you and I don't want my sister to ever be like you."

I sighed. "If you want my help, insulting me is not the way to go."

"I want you and your friends to look for my sister. Now!"

"And issuing orders won't help either." I hung up on his sudden shout.

"Who was that?" Corrigan asked.

"Mena's brother. She's not home and he's blaming me."

"They're not right. Something's…I don't know…they're not right," Bryce muttered.

"He's just worried about her."

"My mom's not harassing you," Bryce pointed out.

"No. Your mom is praying for me," I said sarcastically.

Carlos, who'd stayed quiet the entire time, spoke up, "We could drive around and look for her. I mean, it wouldn't hurt, you know. Just in case something did happen, you know…"

"I've got some flashlights in my trunk," Chet offered and stood up. As we all stood, Corrigan hissed in my ear, "You stay with Bryce. Braven's too drunk to be rational right now."

"You think? He's been leering at me the entire time. And why am I adjusting for a drunk?"

"Because you're awesome…and you're sober."

"I'm not really," I glared. "Sober, that is."

Corrigan grinned and shrugged. "I know, but…you're more sober than Braven and I don't want to beat the crap out of him. I kinda like the stupid kid."

Bryce took shotgun in Chet's car when I slid into the backseat next to Tatum.

"Hey," Bryce peered at me, questioning. "I thought you were in the other car."

I shrugged and looked out the window. That was the extent of our conversation.

"Pull up next to him," Bryce instructed Chet and as he did, Bryce rolled his window down. Corrigan lifted himself out of the window and sat on the doorframe with his arms resting on the car's roof.

"What's up, boys?" Corrigan smirked, cockily, across the top.

"You want the back streets? We'll take Hyde Park?" Bryce asked.

Corrigan shrugged. "Sure. I don't care."

"Holster and his crew can check out the riverbank," Bryce murmured.

Carlos asked, "You got some flashlights?"

At Bryce's negative, Carlos jumped out and passed them out to the vehicles. Braven leered at me the entire time until I snapped.

Cursing, I was at his seat in a flash. I threw open his door and dragged him out of the car. As he fell, I kicked him in the stomach, head, and groin. He just laid there and groaned in pain as I knelt over him to whisper, "You stare at boys like that? Keep it up and I'll spread that rumor." I flicked him in the ear before I returned to my seat and turned mute.

Some of the guys were taken aback, but others weren't surprised.

Chet drove off when Corrigan started laughing in their car.

Bryce was fighting a grin when I glanced over. "Shut it," I growled and Bryce laughed outright.

Chet announced, "You're my god, Sheldon. I will pray to you three times a day. I will even buy a mat and declare it my 'Sheldonism' praying mat. It's all you from now on."

"Screw you too." But I bit back a laugh.

Tatum saw it and started laughing. He pounded the back of Bryce's seat and shook his head. "You've got to be an animal in bed, Sheldon." He asked Bryce, "Is she an animal in bed?"

Bryce's smile turned lustful as he remained silent, but met my eyes in the rear-view mirror.

Chet launched into a story about his most animal-like lover and Tatum topped it with a story of his own.

Bryce and I were both quiet until we pulled into the parking lot.

Okay, parks are meant for the daytime. Not nighttime. It's not a big leap to think that parks can turn creepy when the sun goes down. Hyde Park, underneath a full moon, is extremely creepy.

I hated to admit it, but I stuck close to Bryce when we started walking around.

We met a few homeless people, more than a few drunk parties playing Volcano Tag on the playground, and one hooker.

She grinned a toothless grin towards Bryce. I felt him shudder at the imagery of her proposition and coughed back my own laugh.

"Shut up," he threw at me.

Chet walked over to us. He gestured to the drunks playing tag behind him and murmured, "Mena didn't come this way. They did see someone else, some girl with black hair. She was wearing a clown outfit or something. I don't know."

Clown outfit?

"Leisha was supposed to come. Carlos called her and said she was on her way."

"Did you see her at the party?" Bryce asked me.

"I…I don't know. We were upstairs the rest of the night."

"Chet, call Corrigan. Have Carlos call this chick and see where she is," Bryce commanded. "We don't need to look for another girl right now."

Tatum lightly jogged over to us. "Nah." He shook his head. "No one's seen anyone like Mena. She's not here. She didn't come this way anyway."

"If she was walking, the river's the quickest way," I murmured and frowned. "She's not stupid. You'd have to be a complete moron to walk the river at night and alone."

"And dressed for a party," Bryce pointed out.

"Let's head over to the river. It's too big for Holster, Nate, and Justin to cover by themselves. It's not far off," Tatum suggested.

Bryce held my elbow as we walked back to the car and it wasn't a surprise to anyone when he slid in beside me in the backseat. Tatum took shotgun and Chet got off his phone.

"Okay." He turned around behind the steering wheel. "Carlos called that girl and he couldn't get an answer. He left a message."

No one suggested calling the parents. That was another code. Just like how the guys policed Chad. We'd figure out Leisha before we absolutely needed to involve the parents. There was a fine line between being a nark and checking on a friend.

We parked next to Holster's car and saw their flashlights just up ahead.

"Okay." Bryce took charge. "Chet, drive me and Sheldon down about two miles. We'll backtrack and meet you in the middle."

"I'll start from here then." Tatum flashed a grin and murmured, "Don't go in the bushes now and have crazy animal sex."

Bryce shot around the seat and punched him in the side.

Tatum grasped his stomach and sucked in his breath. He cursed, but quickly shot out of the car before Bryce tried for seconds. Through the window, Tatum wiggled his eyebrows in suggestion and pretended to howl at the moon.

I raised my eyebrows and gave a pointed look.

Tatum must've remembered Braven because he shut up.

Chet shook his head as he reversed and drove south. "It's the full moon, man. Tatum's weird tonight and I swear—he hasn't done anything tonight, like alcohol or anything else. That's just him."

"He'll get a beat down if he keeps it up," Bryce muttered under his breath.

He sounded tense. I shot him a questioning look and asked quietly, "What's up with you?"

Bryce shrugged, but started to tap his foot against the floor. A nervous movement. Bryce rarely showed any moments of nervousness. I slid over and rested a hand on his knee, stilling his leg.

"Hey, hey," I murmured, soothingly. "What's wrong?"

Bryce turned back from the window, glanced at Chet, who was pointedly watching the street ahead, and murmured, "I'll tell you later."

I searched his face, but sighed, "Okay."

Bryce cupped my cheek and pressed a soft kiss to my lips, meant for reassurance. It sparked into more and we both pulled away a little breathless.

"Sorry, man," Bryce drawled to Chet, who shrugged it off and pulled the car over.

"Here's your stop." Chet turned around. "You both have flashlights?"

Bryce and I waved them in the air and climbed out of the car.

As Chet drove back the way we'd just come, I asked again, "What's up with you?"

"Nothing."

"You said that you'd tell me. What's going on?"

"Nothing," he bit out. "I…just don't ever walk in this town, okay?"

"Huh?" I asked, dumbfounded. "Like ever?"

"No," he breathed out in irritation. "At night. Don't walk around this town at night, alone, and dressed like that."

I grinned and asked smoothly, "Did you just call me a slut?"

"What? No." He shook his head. "It's not even about that. Just…listen to what I said. Call before you do something stupid like these girls."

Walking over to him, I slid my arms around his waist and looked up. "For one thing, I know what goes bump in the night. I'm not exactly naïve about stuff." Call me jaded. "And two…you know that I'd call."

Bryce relaxed and wrapped his arms around me. He lifted me up and I wrapped my legs around his waist. Face to face now, I grinned in anticipation and dipped to meet his lips.

Bryce met me and opened his mouth. I slid my tongue against his and we both groaned.

He cursed and rested his forehead against mine, "We have to look for Mena."

I untangled my legs and jumped to my feet. "And Leisha. We're looking for both of 'em."

Bryce groaned and swore. "Girls." He made it sound like an insult, but I didn't take it as one.

Bryce led the way into the narrow trail that moved down the steep incline to the river's bank. The trail veered up from the river's edge a few times, but it usually circled back to parallel the river. During the daytime, the trail was gorgeous. At night, it was another scary place. The brush was thick enough to hide someone if desired. We needed to illuminate as much as possible, but our flashlights didn't penetrate some of the thickest stuff.

When I tried to step towards some particularly dense foliage, Bryce yanked me back.

"No," he only said to my glance.

We continued up the trail. We met a few homeless on our path, but they only watched us warily and didn't say anything. They sat off the trail and underneath a tree or brush.

Bryce asked about Mena and Leisha. No one had seen them.

Twenty minutes passed before I started, "So…"

I saw the tension enter Bryce's shoulder as he waited.

"Can you be nice to Mena?"

"Why?" he clipped out, uncaring as he swept his flashlight around a rock.

"Because you said she was weird in front of everyone."

"So?"

"So…that's kinda—I like Mena."

"You shouldn't."

"I do, so be nice to her. Okay?" I snapped out.

"Whatever."

"Bryce."

"I said whatever. I don't like her," he argued.

"You don't like her brother and that's just going to Mena."

"No," Bryce said shortly. Firmly. "I don't like her. She's weird. She looks at you weird. So does her brother."

"You don't like Steele because I slept with him."

"No. You screwed him. You didn't sleep with him. There's a difference. And it's not because of that."

"Right," I snorted in disbelief.

Bryce stopped and turned to look at me. "I don't like that you were with him, yeah. It's not about that, though. He's off. Can't you see it when you look at him?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Like he's not totally right. He's weird."

"Can you define weird?" I said tiredly as Bryce started back up the trail.

Bryce shrugged again.

"Fine. He's weird. Mena's weird, but I like Mena and I don't have a lot of female friends."

"You're friends with that Leisha chick."

"Leisha's like a puppy. She's not a real friend," I retorted.

Bryce chuckled. "Hope you don't describe me that way."

I grinned. "Well, some people really love their pets." In gross and totally disgusting ways.

Bryce snorted.

I grabbed the back of his pants and stopped him. "Are you going to be nice?"

"No," he clipped out. "I'm not going to pretend to like someone if I think they're fake. She's fake."

"You won't even be civil?"

"No, Sheldon. Drop it. I don't ask you to be nice to my mom."

"Your mom's a bitch."

"So is Mena, you just don't see it." Bryce argued, but stopped abruptly.

I walked into his back, but Bryce snaked an arm around and caught me so I wouldn't fall back.

I was right behind him, so I couldn't see anything. When I tried to peer around, Bryce shifted to block my view.

"What are you doing? Why'd you stop?"

Bryce didn't say anything. He just held me behind him. He had both arms wrapped around me.

"Seriously, Bryce. Move," I ordered.

He coughed and it seemed to strangle him.

"Bryce?" I asked, quietly. "I want to see."

He wouldn't let me.
"Bryce, seriously. I need to see." My voice sounded a little panicked now. Slightly shrill.

Nothing.

I started to hit his unmoving back. "Bryce." My voice sounded weak now. "Bryce."

"Let's go back," he whispered, hoarsely, and started to walk backwards.

Awkwardly, I stumbled backwards. I wanted to see, but he still wouldn't let me.

"Stop!" I cried out. "What is it?"

"Sheldon, let's go. Let's go back to the street. Come on." Bryce turned finally and it was enough.

I sprinted past him, but a leg tripped me and as the ground rushed up to me, a silent scream wrenched from my throat.

I landed beside the leg and I saw the shoe.

There was smeared blood on it and the leg was black and blue, bruised.

"Oh god." My voice was ripped out of me. It was weird, like from another body. I felt weird. I felt…I wasn't really there, but I was there. I was far away, but I was too close to tear my eyes away.

A body lay in the bushes and I stepped forward.

Bryce said something behind me, but I couldn't hear him. My back was turned to him, but I saw him speak. I saw his mouth open and close and open again. He was saying a lot of stuff to me, but I didn't hear it. I don't know how I knew he was talking. My back was to him.

I looked inside the bushes and it was Leisha.

My hand froze as I lifted one of the branches out of the way, but I saw myself bend down and pick something up.

It was an envelope.

I held it in my hands.

Bryce was talking to me again, he was right beside me. He stopped talking when he saw the envelope, when he saw what was written on it.

I didn't move again for a very long time.

Chapter 15

Bryce and I sat at the end of the ambulance. The police had called the paramedics because I started to shiver uncontrollably. Bryce had hugged me to him, but it hadn't helped. I just kept shivering. One of the paramedics said it was shock and he had checked to make sure Bryce was alright too.

The flashing lights highlighted the terrain. It was ugly and pretty at the same time.

We weren't allowed to call anyone so it was another hour before the guys parked beside the police cars and ambulances.

Corrigan gestured for everyone to stay in the cars while he walked over to us.

"Hey," he murmured, hands stuffed in his front pockets. His eyes skimmed over me and Bryce. He swore and slumped beside me while Bryce stayed on my other side. "So, who was it?"

I turned mute again.

Bryce answered, hoarsely, "Leisha."

Corrigan swore again. "Is she…? I mean…"

"Dead," Bryce said flatly.

Corrigan whipped back to us, but didn't say anything. I didn't think he could say anything.

"I wanna go…somewhere," I mumbled. We'd already given our statements and had been ordered to give official statements the next day at the station. I was really getting tired of going to that same place.

Bryce and Corrigan shared a look before Bryce asked, "Where?"

I shrugged. "Not here."

Corrigan jumped up and said abruptly, "I'll cut the guys loose. We can crash at my place."

I thanked him with my eyes and Bryce nodded.

Corrigan left and returned a second later with keys to Chet's car. "Let's go." He dangled the keys in the air and Bryce placed his hand at the small of my back. Corrigan got behind the wheel with Bryce in the shotgun seat. I huddled in the back in a fetal position.

Bryce had stuffed the envelope in his pocket. We hadn't discussed it, but Bryce snapped it out of my hands and shoved it inside before he called the cops. I heard the crinkle of the paper and knew he showed Corrigan.

The envelope was addressed to me. We hadn't opened it yet.

Suddenly, I bolted upright and grabbed the envelope.

"Sheldon!" Bryce cried out, startled.

I ripped it open and found one piece of paper inside. It was a small note and it read,

Queen of Geneva disregarded her lowly subjects. To the grave they went and more to come.

I dry-heaved as Corrigan veered the car to the side. Bryce ripped the letter out of my hands and read it. He swore underneath his breath and Corrigan took it from him. He reacted the same.

I opened the door and took deep breaths from the air.

No one said anything. We sat there until Corrigan asked quietly, "Are you okay to go? Can you shut the door?"

Bryce rested his forehead against his window and didn't say anything.

When I shut the door, Bryce lifted his head up and glanced back at me.

I huddled back down and hugged my knees to my chest.

Corrigan pulled back onto the road and the rest of the drive was passed in silence. The radio had been left off.

The letter was left untouched between the two guys.

I don't think anyone wanted to touch it.

At Corrigan's we walked down to the basement and sat on the couches. Corrigan's family had placed three couches around a large screen that fitted against an entire wall. It was their own theater room. The couches matched the grandiose media center. They were plush and large enough to fit two full-length people.

I stretched out on one. Bryce took another and Corrigan dropped onto the third after he'd left for a bottle of bourbon.

He passed it around and all three of us took two shots in a row.

This time, Bryce didn't hiss from the burn.

We kept passing the bottle until it was empty.

Corrigan sighed and flung the bottle at the bar. It ricocheted off the corner and bounced into the recycling bin.

No one commented on the shot.

"The cops should have that note," Corrigan started.

"No," I said sharply.

"Sheldon…"

"I said no. It had my name on it. It's not going. We need to destroy it."

"They could check it for prints. We should've given it to them right away," Corrigan argued. "Why'd you guys even have it in the first place?"

"Sheldon grabbed it off the body."

I flinched at those words. Leisha was cold now.

Bryce added, "I didn't really think about it."

"I don't want the cops to know. I don't want to be…connected to whoever could do something like that," I spat out, feeling my insides gutted out.

"You should tell them," Corrigan said.

"Shut up."

Corrigan didn't say anything.

Bryce rubbed a hand over his jaw and sat up. He stood and paced. "This is…we should do something. I don't want to sit anymore."

"Everyone at school is going to know," I said faintly.

"Let's play basketball or…I don't know. Let's go for a run."

"We should call the cops now."

"Shut up, Corrigan!" I yelled. "I don't want to talk about it."

He yelled back, "You don't want to talk about anything!"

"Shut up both of you!" Bryce hissed, "We're going to wake your parents."

That shut us up.

I stood and spoke, "I'm going to shower."

Corrigan glanced at me and then away. He closed his eyes and laid down.

Bryce watched me leave the room. When I turned the corner, I heard him ask, "You got more alcohol?"

"Yeah," Corrigan said tiredly and got up.

I closed the bathroom door and leaned against it while I slid to the floor. My hands were chalk-white as I pressed them against my legs. It felt weird. I couldn't feel my hands against my legs. I only stared at them in sick fascination. A person should be able to feel, but my legs had gone numb.

When I saw some spots on my shirt, it took a minute before I realized they were tears. I'd been crying and not known it. Then I watched as another one fell to my shirt and realized I was still crying.

Weak, I got up and turned the shower on. I turned the water to scalding hot and stripped my clothes off before I stepped inside. I slid to the floor and sat there, arms wrapped around my knees.

The water pounded on me and I watched the water slide to circle the drain.

It was slowly sucked downwards, like a vacuum.

I wasn't surprised when the door opened and Bryce stepped inside.

I just looked up at him and he sighed. He moved me and sat behind where he wrapped his arms around me. I hugged his arms as they hugged me.

He rested his head in the crook between my shoulders and neck. His cheek grazed against the side of mine.

We both shuddered for a moment until I realized it was me. I was trembling and Bryce was trying to stop it.

A choked gasp sounded and echoed in the shower. That came from me too.

"Where's Corrigan?" I asked, huskily.

Bryce soothed his hands up and down my arms. "He called the police. They're going to come and get the letter."

"I don't—"

"They have to have it."

I shut up. The fight had left me. I knew they were right, but…

"I don't want that to happen. I don't want…"

"You didn't do anything," Bryce insisted. "Whoever did that is sick and the cops have to know. He might do it to you."

I closed my eyes as I finally felt the water hit my skin. Finally.

"Everyone at school is going to know," I murmured, wondering why I said it.

"I know. They'll just know that we found her. That's it."

"Her parents," I said softly, haunted. "I bet they'll be devastated."

Bryce frowned next to me and said, "Your parents would be devastated too."

"Would they?"

"Yeah," he said firmly.

"Your mom would pray for me." She should've prayed for Leisha.

Bryce laughed abruptly and then stopped just as quick. He swore.

I slid my hand into his and threaded our fingers. I asked, "Why don't you want me in the mornings?"

"What?" he asked, startled. Distracted.

"In the mornings. We don't have sex. Why not?"

Bryce shrugged.

"Why not?" I pressed.

"Sheldon," he sighed.

"I want to know."

He burst out, "Because it's too hard to make myself give you space if I make love to you in the mornings. It's too hard to go back and remember your 'hands-off' policy."

The emotional ties. That was why.

"I've never given you a hands-off policy," I said faintly.

"It's the same thing. No commitment, right?" Bryce cursed. "I swear, you get pissed if I don't let other girls hit on me."

I shifted uncomfortably.

"See," he pointed out. "This is what Corrigan was talking about. You don't talk about anything, especially you and me."

"I just asked why we don't have sex in the mornings." I turned and glared at him. Pissed. No, I was livid.

"No," Bryce said firmly, daring me to argue with him. "I said 'make love' and you said 'have sex.' They're different."

"It's not that different. It's still screwing."

"No," he spelled it out, saddened. "You screw me. I make love to you."

I pulled away and scooted directly underneath the water. It plastered my hair to my face, covering my eyes, nose, mouth, everything.

I sat there, stunned at Bryce's words until he cursed and yanked me out of the water. He brushed the hair from my face and glared at me.

And then he softened and kissed me.

I moaned and clung to him, demanding. I needed this, I needed this kind of warmth.

Bryce grabbed me and lifted me on top of him.

I straddled him and sunk down until he was firmly sheathed inside of me. And then I moved.

Bryce groaned and moved with me. He grabbed my hips and we both tried to drown each other.

It didn't take long until we exploded and I fell limply against him. Bryce swept his arms around me and kissed my shoulder, a tender kiss. He ran a soothing hand down my hair and down my back.

I closed my eyes and rested my head on his shoulder.

Just then Corrigan pounded on the shower door.

Bryce swore and yelled for him to leave.

Corrigan coughed, "Cops are here. Hurry up."

Bryce used some colorful words to describe Corrigan and what would happen if he had listened to us the entire time.

I told him to be quiet. Corrigan joked, but he wasn't like that. We were in our world and probably couldn't hear him knock on the bathroom door. Bryce clamped his mouth shut, but his jaw was clenched tight. Too tight.

We dressed in our dirty clothes and went to meet the police. It was two different detectives this time, but I saw Officer Patterson had accompanied them. She gave me a small nod while a balding guy in a suit started asking us questions like why didn't we hand over the letter, what did it say, where was the letter now.

We answered each and every one. Numbly. I knew I was in a daze at the end of it when Sheila threw me a curveball. She asked, "Why didn't you say anything about the other two letters?"

Bryce frowned.

Corrigan asked, "What?!"
I sat there and swallowed painfully. I surrendered when I met her all-too-knowing eyes, "Because…if I said something then it was real."

"We went over your house after the break-in. We found both of them in the trash," she said further.

This was a nightmare.

"When did you get the first note?"

Bryce and Corrigan sat stunned.

I sighed and answered, "Wednesday."

"And the second?"

"Thursday."

"And your house was broken into that night, correct?"

It was and I felt on trial.

Sheila glanced towards Bryce and Corrigan, but asked all of us, "Is there anyone who's been harassing you?"

Who wasn't?

I glanced at the guys. Corrigan slumped further in his chair. Bryce spoke up, "Chad Yerling. He's been making threats."

"What's he been saying?" Officer Sheila was all business, the epitome of a detective.

"Bryce," Corrigan warned.

Bryce shrugged it off and said flatly, "That he wants to rape Sheldon. He wants to make her scream for me to help her."

I'd figured it was something like that.

Sheila glanced at the two detectives and asked, "How often has he made these threats?"

"A few times. He started awhile back, but last Sunday—it got worse. He got worse."

"What else should you be telling me?" Sheila shared me in her sweeping glance.

Corrigan said quietly, "He did something to a girl last Friday night, a week ago. We warned him to stop and not ever do anything again, but on Tuesday…he threatened Sheldon."

"He didn't really…" I murmured.

"He scared you. That was enough," Corrigan said fiercely.

"And what did you do?" Sheila asked.

"Bryce roughed him up and I roughed up his car."

I looked away.

"I got arrested for fleeing the 'scene of an accident,'" Corrigan quoted, unapologetically.

One of the detectives mentioned, "Chad Yerling was admitted to the hospital for two days last week. Was that your handiwork?" he asked Bryce.

Bryce shook his head and Corrigan volunteered, "That was me and a few other guys. I'll take the fall. We wanted to make sure he wouldn't do anything to Sheldon or any other girl."

"You were at a party tonight. Did anything happen at the party?"

"Yerling showed up. He was doing the same stuff. We took him out back and just threatened him again," Bryce spoke this time. "We didn't hurt him too bad. He was able to walk when we let him go."

"What'd you threaten him with?"

"Just that if he didn't stay away from our kind, we might have to hurt someone of his," Bryce said matter-of-factly. "We wouldn't, but we didn't know what else to do. We're not going to kill the guy or keep putting him in the hospital."

"You think this Yerling guy could've done something like that to Leisha Summers?"

I flinched at the name. She was still so cold.

"I don't know," Corrigan said lamely.

Bryce shrugged. "I thought he was all talk, but you never know…"

I stood up abruptly and asked harshly, "Are we done? Can I go?"

Sheila studied me a moment and said, "Almost. Where's the letter now?"

Corrigan pulled it out of his pocket and handed it over. "We all touched it. I'm sorry."

She pulled a glove on and took the letter. After she handed it to one of the other detectives, she asked gently, "Where are your parents, Sheldon?"

"Getting a divorce. You know that," I spat out.

"Where are they?" she asked again.

I shrugged. "I don't know."

"Have you talked to them this week?"

"About the divorce. That's it."

Sheila nodded and murmured instead, "We talked to your school counselor, Miss Connors. She's been trying to get you to talk to her. Why don't you want to talk to her?"

"Would you?" I clipped out.

Sheila didn't say anything. The other detective commented, "It would be beneficial for all of you to go and speak with your school counselor. Miss Connors has an excellent reputation as a counselor. She offered for all of you to sit together or individually." He glanced at me and said, "She thinks Sheldon, particularly, would appreciate the group setting versus an individual setting."

Miss Connors could appreciate all she wanted.

"We contacted her over the phone. She offered to come here, if you'd prefer or you could meet somewhere if you would rather not visit on school grounds."

"Right now?" Corrigan asked.

"She's with Miss Summers' parents right now. She would be available tomorrow or at a later date."

Leisha's parents.

"How are they—I mean—how are Leisha's parent's doing?" I asked before I knew what I was asking.

Bryce watched me.

Sheila studied me again, she hadn't stopped. She murmured, "They're pretty torn up as parents should be."

The balding detective asked, "You say that Yerling hurt a girl last Friday? Got a name?"

Bryce shook his head. He crossed his arms over his chest and his biceps twitched. "No. It was just a rumor, but we wanted to be safe, you know."

"Okay." The detective finished his notes and glanced at his two colleagues. "I think we're done here. We'll contact you if we have further questions."

"Please don't," I muttered and the cops stopped in surprise.

Bryce and Corrigan looked unfazed.

Sheila spoke, "Look, you're eighteen. You're an adult, but I highly recommend that you call your parents, Sheldon. They should know what's going on with you."

If they cared, they'd know.

"I don't think my parents have the time right now. They're too busy looking for houses and finalizing the divorce," I said faintly.

A flicker of emotion crossed Sheila's features, but she didn't say anything. No one said a thing and then they left.

Corrigan spoke up when we heard the door shut, "Mom's making breakfast if you guys want something."

"No more questions," I said firmly.

Corrigan nodded. "Trust me, I don't want them either."

"I could go for some food," Bryce murmured and it was decided. All three of us traipsed into the kitchen and were met with aromas of pancakes, eggs, toast, coffee, and freshly cut fruit.

Corrigan's mother smiled warmly at us and gestured to the table. She spoke with a spatula in hand, "Sit, sit. Eat."

Corrigan's father brought a cup of coffee over and placed it in front of me. He patted my shoulder and murmured, "Just how you like it, Sheldon."

"Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Raimler."

"No thanks," Mrs. Raimler said from the stove. "Just eat. And it's Harve."

Bryce and Corrigan devoured their food. When I sat there and sipped my coffee, Bryce snorted in disgust and placed a pancake on my plate.

I didn't move and he said firmly, "Eat."

I glared and Corrigan and Bryce both snapped, "Eat."

I ate.

Mr. and Mrs. Raimler chuckled and filled the plates of food again.

When Corrigan and Bryce were on their third helping, Corrigan's parents sat down and started on their own breakfast.

Mrs. Raimler cleared her throat as she patted the curlers in her hair. She commented, "Bryce, your mother called here. She was very worried, but don't fret. We told her you were here. You and Corrigan were upset about some news of a classmate. She agreed with me that it was best for you to stay with your friends."

Bryce and Corrigan. No mention of me. Thank god.

Bryce met my eyes in shared amusement and relief. If AnnaBelle Scout knew of my presence, she would've dragged Bryce back to her home, never to be seen again.

I shuddered at the thought.

"Sheldon, honey, I'll ready one of the guest bedrooms for you. Harve can drive you over to your house if you'd like to grab some clothes and toiletries."

Bryce spoke up, "Uh…I'll take her later. That's okay." He glanced at Corrigan and I knew both of them weren't planning on letting me out of their sight.

"Bryce, you can sleep in the other guest bedroom downstairs."

Corrigan hid a smile.

The Raimler household had guest bedrooms all over their home. There were a few on the bedroom floor. A few on the main floor. And two downstairs. We were both downstairs, right next door to each other.

I didn't think it was by chance we had rooms beside each other.

"Thank you, Mrs. Raimler."

"Oh—it's Katrice, Bryce. Get it right next time." She smiled warmly and patiently.

Bryce nodded.

"You always call me Mrs. Raimler and I always feel like your grandmother. I'm not that old, Bryce."

"No, you're not, Mrs. Raimler."

"Bryce Elliot Scout," she said firmly, feigning outrage.

I snorted.

Bryce just grinned and kept eating.

Chapter 16

The rest of the day was spent around Corrigan's house. We all took turns at Guitar Hero. Corrigan was the best, no surprise. Bryce hadn't spent as much time playing it since, until last week, everything centered around soccer.

I sucked. That was all there was to it, but for my defense—my mind was elsewhere.

After awhile, I padded into the guest bedroom and curled into a dreamless sleep. I kept fighting it because I hadn't wanted nightmares, but I was grateful when I woke up with no dreams and no nightmares.

Bryce knocked on my door and poked his head inside.

"Hey. Corr and I are going to go out for a little bit. Wanna come?"

"Where are you going?"

"Harris' parents are out of town for the whole weekend. I think some of the guys are going to hang out, maybe shoot pool."

I could stay and do nothing.

I got up and yawned, "Yeah. Can we stop at my place to get some clothes?"

"Sure," Bryce left to tell Corrigan the plan and within another few minutes, Corrigan was driving us to my house.

As we pulled into the driveway, I asked, "Did anyone find Mena last night?"

Bryce murmured, watching their house, "No, but she must've gotten home alright. There she is."

And there she was. She had already crossed her lawn and was just entering mine. She was there by the time we got out of the car.

"Hey," she said brightly.

Bryce ignored her while I murmured a half-hearted hello. Corrigan took my keys and let us inside.

"How'd you get home last night?"

"Yeah. That," Mena exclaimed, flushed. "Sorry about Denton. I actually…I went to another party last night."

"How? I drove."

"I caught a ride. They told me about the party and it sounded fun. No Collette Chantal or Becky Lew at that party to torment me."

I glared at Bryce's back.

"So," Mena continued. "It was fun."

"Whose party?" Corrigan asked, reserved.

"Grace Barton. Her and her brother, Tim, threw a party." At our blank faces, she explained, "They're in a different crowd."
"Who?" Corrigan asked what we all wondered.

"Tim Barton…he's a swimmer. And Grace is in theater."

"I know Barton," Corrigan said slowly, frowning. "He's a douche and his sister's not hot."

There it was. Corrigan had quickly classified Mena's new friends as 'losers.' Bryce had already set up the fall and Mena had fallen last night into the arms of lesser social levels.

Judging by the embarrassed flush, Mena had already known it. It was just another kick in the gut when Corrigan has said it out loud.

"You guys are bastards," I flared and brushed past them.

"What'd I say?" Corrigan asked.

I darted up the stairs, but I heard Bryce mutter, "Nothing. Let it go."

Mena followed not long later and watched as I packed a bag of clothes. She sat on the bed and asked, "Where are you going this time?"

"I'm staying at Corrigan's tonight."

Her eyebrow arched.

"It's not like that. Bryce and I are both staying there."

She asked as she glanced at her hands, "What? You don't want to live next door to me?"

"No." I changed into a gold slinky shirt that was transparent at the midriff. It was covered by another transparent white sweater that was tailored for me.

"I heard about Leisha Summers," Mena declared and watched me intently. "She was a friend of yours, right?"

I paused and looked at her. "How'd you hear about her?"

"It's all over. I got eight calls today about it and I'm not even popular."

"Yeah. So?"

"So the word is that you and Bryce found her."

It was funny because when I looked at her, she didn't look shocked, perturbed, a little sick. Nothing. She looked like she was holding a regular conversation about the weather or a party that night.

Maybe I shouldn't complain about Bryce's insights as much.

I shrugged. "Yeah. So?" It was becoming my trademark.

"Do you want to talk about it? I mean, with a girlfriend. It can't be all that sharing with those two downstairs. They don't strike me as the feelings type."

How funny it was.

"I'm good. Thanks." I finished dressing and grabbed my bag and purse.

"Hey, so…is that it?" Mena stood.

"Is what what?"

"I thought we were friends. You're blowing me off."

"No," I said patiently. "I don't want to talk about it. That's different from blowing you off. And we are friends."

"No, we aren't," Mena said shortly. "I know that you'd like to be, but those two downstairs just vetoed that. Corrigan's never rude to a girl unless she's a social outcast. I've been cast out."

She was right and I didn't know what to do about it.

"Never mind. Your lack of speech just told me everything." Mena sighed and left. The downstairs door slammed a moment later and I jumped from the force of it.

I slumped on the bed and that was how the guys found me. Dejected. And feeling weird that I felt dejected.

They just watched me, framed in the doorway.

Bryce raised an eyebrow and asked, "Wanna go shoot pool?"

"Please," I groaned and followed them out.

When we arrived, I remarked sardonically, my gaze on the eight cars in Harris' driveway, "This is a party."

"Looks like."

Bryce chuckled.

"You said some of the guys were getting together to shoot pool. That's Lew's car. She's not one of the guys."

Corrigan shrugged. He grabbed the door handle and threw over his shoulder, "I didn't know. Don't crucify me."

When we walked in, everything stopped. Literally. One guy was even pouring a cup of beer and he stopped—mid-pour. The liquid didn't stop, but he did. He slammed the pitcher on the table and gaped at us. If it had been under different circumstances, it would've been hilarious.

Under our circumstances, I growled. "Looking at someone?"

Everyone scrambled and that was how the rest of the night proceeded. Corrigan and Bryce joked with some of the guys. Most of the girls left, but only after they were ignored by the guys. Collette Chantal tried to rub against Bryce, but he easily shrugged her off and then stayed beside me the rest of the night. It was only later, much later when they brought it up.

Corrigan had dropped down beside me on the couch. Bryce sat in front of me with my fingers entangled in his hair. And I was a bit drowsy from the booze.

Harris was the spokesperson when nearly everyone had mingled their way out the door.

"Did that chick look deformed or anything?" He belched the question as he finished his too-many beer.

Bryce tensed.

I tensed and lifted my head, now awake.

Everyone stopped again and looked at us. They wanted the answer. Even Corrigan watched us intently.

I yanked slightly on Bryce's hair and he remarked, "What do you mean?"

"I mean," Harris looked around. "What'd she look like? It could've been any of us that found her."

"She was dead," Bryce said flatly.

"Was she…we heard she was raped. Was she? Could you tell?"

"Go to a morgue. She looked like that," I said briskly.

"If she was raped, then we should know."

"Why?" I asked bitterly. "So that you can stop this supposed rapist from doing it again? It doesn't matter. She's dead." I sat up. "He's going to do it again. You can't stop him. No one can stop him."

Corrigan looked at me.

Bryce shifted to look at me. I didn't feel his silken hair between my fingers anymore.

I ignored them and continued on a rant, "If the police can't find him, you can't. You might as well go on about your life. Forget you ever knew anything. He's not going to be stopped. He's going to do it again and again and again…" My voice dropped with each word as I felt hope dwindle.

I didn't know the hope had even been there or what it was for.

Corrigan stood up and announced, "I'm drunk. Who's going to drive us home?"

Everyone was still staring at me.

Bryce stood and lifted me over his shoulder.

"Oomph!"

As he smacked my butt, everyone started to laugh…in comedic relief.

"Bryce," I gasped.

He grinned cockily and murmured loudly, "Keep saying it, baby. All night."

They laughed again and the pitcher of beer was passed around the room again.

Corrigan caught it and downed the rest. When he finished, he asked again, "Seriously. Who's driving us?"

Carlos stood up and said quietly, "I will. I'm sober."

Talking started up and Carlos walked ahead of us with Corrigan's arm thrown over his shoulders. He had given me one tentative grin before he grabbed his keys and headed outside.

I'd forgotten about him. In fact, I hadn't even known he was at Harris'.

Carlos had been the one to call Leisha in the first place—at my insistence.

I swallowed painfully as Bryce lowered me to the ground.

At the car, Bryce slid in the back. I was right behind Carlos and Corrigan had turned so he faced all of us at the same time. He threw his arm over the seat and started talking about how Becky Lew ranked among his conquests. He was fully divulging the evidentiary points of slot number four when Carlos pulled his car to the curb just outside Corrigan's house.

It was then that I realized, "Nice. I was going to stay sober so I could drive my car tomorrow. Now none of us have cars here."

Corrigan shrugged and murmured, "We'll figure it out. I'll make Stephen drive us over tomorrow."

"I have my bag in your car," I glared.

He smirked and pointed out, "Like you're going to be wearing clothes tonight anyway."

Carlos looked out the window, I scowled, and Bryce didn't blink.

Corrigan rolled his eyes and shot out of the car. "See you later, losers."

I stayed and Bryce looked between me to Carlos. He said, "I'm going in, make sure Corrigan doesn't decide to light his house on fire."

It wasn't even an excuse.