My whole mission to avoid graduation had been for nothing. They wouldn’t have known anyway.

I should’ve been relieved. I wasn’t. I was something else instead.

I didn’t know I was crying until Blaise’s arms were around me.

When he started to get into bed, I stopped him. I tugged him to the movie room instead.

We turned something on. He held me. And I tried not to cry.

I mostly failed.

But he held me the rest of the night.

23

Blaise

Something was seriously wrong with Aspen, and it was becoming clearer that it was her family.

I hated it. I hated every part of how she’d cried herself to sleep in my arms last night. I’d been breaking apart, but I couldn’t do anything except comfort her.

Still, I was pissed.

And I was up early while she remained tanked. I eased out from under her. Fuck this. I was taking matters into my own hands. This was different. Aspen was different.

As I looked through the house, I got more and more angry at the empty walls I saw. There were no pictures of her, of her brothers. There were no family photos. There were no plaques on the wall. No trophies.

No handmade stupid-ass trinkets.

Nothing.

This house was a show house.

There was nothing personal here.

There were no marks on the doorway from the kids getting taller. And it was a new house, I got that, but seriously—a few pictures at least?

I was perusing the kitchen when the garage door opened and an older lady came inside. She startled, a scream came from her, and dropped the bag in her hands.

I waited it out. I’d made myself a cup of coffee, so I lifted the mug and took a sip.

A second later, she spat out, her eyes narrowed and promising all sorts of way to gut me, “Who are you?”

I narrowed my eyes right back at her. “I take it you’re Miss Sandy.”

Some of her fiery promises faded, but her eyes only turned wary. Her nose wrinkled and her mouth turned down in a pinch. “You’re the marijuana shirt guy.”

I grinned. “I am, and it’s no longer my shirt since Aspen’s been sleeping in it. She wants it, she gets it.”

I hadn’t meant that to sound dirty.

I coughed, clearing my throat. “Let’s talk about Aspen’s parents, shall we?”

A whole different look came over her then, and she took a step back.

Awareness.

I saw it trickle in, and by the time we were done with our chat, there was a bit more on her face. I, however, was ready to bash something. More specifically, I was ready to roll heads.

“Thank you,” I managed to tell her at the end.

My coffee was long done, and I hadn’t refilled it. I didn’t need the caffeine. I was hyped up on a whole bunch of other emotions.

When I turned to head back upstairs, she called after me.

“You care for her.”

I nodded.

The truth of that surprised me. I hadn’t expected it. But I couldn’t stop it. I didn’t even want to anymore.

She nodded back. “Good.”

That was it.

That was my meeting with the infamous Miss Sandy, and I’d been right. I liked her.

And I didn’t care if she liked me or not. She would, eventually.

Everyone liked me, eventually.

Aspen was the only thing that mattered, and I was going to wake the entire neighborhood up, because she deserved to matter to everyone.

24

Blaise

“Hey.”

I was just putting my stuff in my locker when Zeke came over. Shutting it, I turned to him. “Hey.”

He grinned, leaning against my neighbor’s locker. “You don’t sound too enthused.”

“Would you?” I waited a beat, adding, “If I were doing the shit you’ve been doing?”

He flinched. “Yeah, man.” He raked a hand over his face. The hallway was full of students. Quite a few watched us, and I didn’t like it. I was used to the attention. We got it almost everywhere we went, but we were getting more.

They were all waiting, seeing if Zeke and I were going to throw down.

I wanted to give ’em all the middle finger.

“Look, let’s walk and talk?” he said. “Yeah?”

I nodded. We started down the hallway.

Anytime we needed to hash something out, we went to the football field. I’d be late for my next class, but that was fine. I only had one project due this week, and it was my last class of the day.

Zeke laughed as we headed out the door, flipping everyone behind us the middle finger. “Hungry-as-fuck gawkers.”

We were on the same wavelength.

Zeke waited to speak until we were past the groups hanging around outside. Once we’d crossed the parking lot, he put his hands in his pockets, hunching forward. “So.”

I could hear how uncomfortable he felt. That made me feel a little better, just a bit.

“I, uh, I don’t really know how to start this.” He laughed with a hitch.

I’d never heard Zeke sound uncomfortable. This was a first in our friendship.

“I do.”

He sighed, angling toward the bleachers. “Why am I not surprised?”

I smiled, and my shoulders relaxed a whole lot. “Why are you such a dick?”

He snorted. “You’re calling me a dick?”

“Yeah. I’m not a dick like you. I don’t control and intimidate and do that sort of shit. I don’t make others fall in line and do what I say.”

“I disagree with that.”

I growled. “We gonna talk this out or just go right to punching? I’m down with either.”

He eased away. “I’ve no doubt you’re good with throwing a punch. I’ve seen you do it.”

Now that I thought about it, I had intimidated Brian when I shoved him against the wall. And I’d told Jamie he couldn’t hang with me if he was scared of fighting. So I guess in that way, I was as guilty as Zeke. Well, fuck me then.

But I hadn’t hit anyone except Brian that one time. I’d wanted to throw down a few times, but I always refrained, which was a good thing. Me fighting was not good, ever. Everyone knew my brother could fight, but no one knew my rep. I’d left that back in New York and been thankful to escape it.

“Why do you think I’ve never called your bluff about fighting?” he asked quietly.

I sneered at him. “The dick part of me wants to say it’s because you’re a pansy.” His eyes went flat, and I smirked. “But the part of me that’s trying not to be that guy has no clue.” A beat. “So why not?”

“Because I know how you are. I know you’re not bluffing about fighting.”

Well, shit. “You’ve seen videos?”

“I’ve seen it in person.”

I frowned, shooting him a look. “When?”

“When we were in third grade.”

“What?”

“Why do you think I love you so much?” He shook his head, stupefied. “I was getting my ass beat by two fifth graders. A sixth grader was in on it too, and then suddenly out of nowhere, you came barreling in. You kicked their asses—and you were in third grade with me. Those guys had been bullying me since first grade. You show up, and after one afternoon, they never messed with me again. You did that.”

I wanted to roll my eyes. “You’re telling me that because you were bullied, you turned into the biggest piece of shit?”

He barked out a laugh. “No. I’m telling you that I saw what you could do when you were a third grader. I sure as shit know you ain’t bluffing. Fuck, brother. Half the time I think you’re salivating over the chance someone will call your bluff, but no one will. We all know it ain’t a front.”

“You could organize a group. Get the drop on me.”

He snorted, shaking his head. “And then what? We’d have to kill you to keep you down. You’d heal and come back and fuck every one of us over. And while you were healing, I know that brother of yours would come around. His crew too.”

Maybe. “So why are you such a piece of shit with people?”

He cursed. “Can you drop the dick attitude right now? I’m here for peace and resolution. I won’t want that if you keep insulting me.”

I nodded. “Yeah, right. Sorry.”

Now that he’d mentioned it, I remembered that day. I remembered that whole year, and those guys had picked on Zeke every single day. Before school. During recess. During lunch. After school. I finally had enough, and that’s when Zeke became my best friend. He became my shadow, and I never lost him after that. The reason it started had just faded from my mind.

“I’m a hothead,” I told him. “And I’m a prick, and I’m pretty messed up about my family. None of that’s a good recipe.”

“I get that.” He nodded, moving to sit next to me on the bleachers. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. We faced the empty football field. “I may be a lot of things. And I’m not proud of what I became while you were gone, but you’re back. I remember how it feels to know no one’s gonna mess with me with you at my side. It means something to me.” His tone grew hoarse, and he looked away. “Since you came back, I’ve remembered that I wasn’t such a bad guy before. I just morphed into him when you left. It sucks, and I gotta learn how to not be this guy, but it’s hard. It’s a lot of work.”