“When Channing would leave, it was the door. I got to the point where I didn’t care who was yelling or cursing, it was the silence after. He’d slam that door shut behind him and be gone. Days. Weeks sometimes. I hated hearing that damned door.”

She looked at her hands, folded on her lap. “I forgot about your brother.” She laughed sadly.

“Yeah.”

She swallowed. “I’m sorry for unloading.”

I shrugged. I didn’t care about that, but I did feel bad because she knew what I had to do. There was no option here for me. “I gotta say something to Cross. You know I have to.”

Her eyes slid away again, and her cheek pulled in like she was biting it.

I felt bad. I honestly did, but if Cross knew someone had invaded my privacy and tried to hack my phone, and he didn’t tell me, I’d be livid.

“I’ll get him to hang out here more often,” I added. I wanted to say I wouldn’t back him for moving out, but I couldn’t promise that.

“Really?” She looked up at me.

It wasn’t much. Nodding, I turned toward the door.

“What are you going to do about Sunday?” Taz asked.

I looked back. “Do you really care?”

She paused, then shook her head. “No. Not anymore.”

I gave her a smile. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure she sees me leaving. She’ll know you didn’t tell me.”

“That’s not—”

I was gone.

I liked Taz, but she shouldn’t have asked me to keep something from Cross. She knew better. Something churned, twisted, tied up in a knot inside my stomach. I wasn’t sure what it was, but I let my smile fade to a hardened grin as I walked downstairs.

I could hear voices in the kitchen as I turned and stopped in the doorway.

Sunday’s squad was sitting around the table and spread throughout the kitchen. One by one, they looked up. One by one, they stopped talking, until no one said a word.

I waited until Sunday looked up.

“Guys, what—” She had a pitcher of orange juice in her hand. She’d just pulled it from the fridge. Monica stood at the counter, a vodka bottle in front of her.

Sunday’s eyes widened.

I leaned against the doorframe, my eyes steady on her. “I heard everything.” I pushed up and strolled over to her.

Her grip tightened on the pitcher.

“You think rumors and whispers behind my back are going to hurt me? You think you can come at me like I’m any other girl?” I shook my head, my hand coming up under her pitcher. Taking it, I dumped the contents over her head. She didn’t move. She didn’t say a word. She took it, and her gaze didn’t break from mine at all.

“We don’t fight like you do.” I started for the door, saying over my shoulder, “And just remember, you declared war first.”

“You did what?” Zellman’s hands fisted in his shaggy hair as he gaped at me.

I’d just finished relaying the entire story, while both Jordan and Cross kept quiet. Zellman was anything but.

“She’s not going to give it up to me anymore. I won’t be able to see the V anymore. My times in that pussy are gone. Man, Bren. Really? She felt so good. Those boobs.” He raised his hands, as if squeezing them in the air. “God. They felt so good. So firm.” He groaned, slumping onto the couch in Jordan’s warehouse/shed.

Jordan had talked his dad into letting him renovate so it was half a party shed, and half a place for us to hang out or live (if need be). There were couches, a bed in the office area, and a large screen mounted on the side wall. Another corner had been turned into a gym. A punching bag hung there with a whole bunch of weight-lifting equipment. There was a target on one wall for darts, or knives if I wanted to throw something sharper at it.

“Dude, lay off her,” Jordan said, crossing to the fridge for another beer. “You’re not in love with the girl. You were just telling us that.”

“She gives good head.” Zellman shook his head. “You know how rare that is? Not a lot of girls give good head. They’re not properly taught.”

“Stop.” Cross winced. He nodded to me. “They were in my room?”

“Yeah.”

“They think they know, but they don’t,” Zellman kept on. “They really don’t.”

I didn’t explain how I’d overheard them. Cross didn’t have to ask, and I wasn’t sure the other two knew of my weird habit.

“Taz was the most upset.”

At these words, a different feeling came over the storage shed. A more serious one.

“Yeah.” Cross didn’t say anything else.

I tried to judge how he was feeling, but he was locked down. He wasn’t letting me in. His face was schooled, but his shoulders seemed rigid, stiffer than normal. He crossed the room, reaching for the fridge. That whole motion seemed normal, almost casual.

There it was.

He was too casual. Normal Cross would’ve been pissed. He would’ve pulled that door open with a bit more force than necessary. Not this Cross. A shiver went down my spine. He was furious.

He took out a beer for himself, palming a second one, and he offered it to me. “B?”

Definitely furious.

“Not right now.”

Zellman came over and plopped onto the couch again. “So Taz is upset. What’s she upset about? I know there’s a whole serious thing happening now, but you guys are not giving enough credit to what I’ve lost. Good head is like an animal on the endangered list. You gotta groom that shit, protect it, look out for it, hope it grows to be more, but now...” He kicked up his feet, resting them on the coffee table between the couches, and took a long drink from his beer. “I’m going to have to start all over with someone new.” He stopped to look at Jordan, but he didn’t say anything.

“Yes,” Jordan countered. “You cannot still sneak around with Sunday. We’re united.”

Cross remained by the fridge, leaning into it. He pulled his foot up to rest against the wall behind him and stared off into the distance, lost in his head.

“So you poured orange juice on her?” Zellman asked.

I nodded, leaning back in my seat.

Jordan sat on the opposite couch from Zellman. “I’m kind of hoping that was caught on tape.”

Zellman snickered. “Sunday must’ve been so pissed. She’s got a mouth on her.”

“We know!”

He paused, his eyebrows pulling together as he stared at us. “No. I meant she’s got an attitude. She’s a spitfire. That’s what I like about her.” He held his beer up in a salute to us. “But I can see where the misunderstanding happened.”

I was tempted to throw something at him. I refrained, getting up instead. Cross opened the fridge and handed me a beer.

I went back to my chair.

“Okay, whatever.” Jordan leaned forward. “We don’t normally take on catty bitches, and that’s what Sunday is, but we’ll ice her out. She fucks with one of us; she fucks with all of us.”

Zellman snickered.

We ignored him.

“We’ll deal with her,” Jordan continued. “But I think we have two other issues to deal with first.” He turned to me. “You gotta tell us about this Race guy and what’s the deal with Drake.”

“You told me I could wait until I was ready. I’m not ready.”

“The guy knows something about you. He had Alex asking about you today.”

That damn lump was back in my throat. “What was he asking?”

“Just where you were. Why’d you leave? Things like that.”

“Yeah.” Zellman leaned forward, bobbing his head up and down. “He was real nosy about you.”

I glanced to Cross, feeling his gaze. His eyes were locked on me, flaring up again. A part of me was relieved. The guarded wall had slipped. I could see him again.

“What are you going to do about Taz?”

Deflect. I would go there instead.

Zellman twisted around. “What? Taz?”

“Not yet. Hold your horses.” Jordan waved a hand in the air. “Don’t distract us from this.” He gestured to me. “We have to know. What did Drake tell him? We have to know.”

“I want to know about Cross and Taz.” Zellman finished his beer, but he didn’t stand up for another. “What’s your stance on your sis dating members?”

Cross shot him a dark look. “Are you kidding me? You want to groom my sister to give you the right head?” He pushed up from the wall. “You know how sick that is?”