My cheeks flush as I shake my hands out.
There’s a reason Victor didn’t want to say his vows aloud at the wedding.
They were meant for me and me alone.
But … are mine supposed to stay secret?
Because I’m not certain that I’m meant for him and him alone.
“Callum scared the fuck out of some kids at the aquarium,” Aaron says, pulling into the parking lot that edges the beach. It’s winter in Oregon, so not ideal beach-going weather, but then, it never really is. Saying beach is a bit misleading; coast would be more appropriate. The water is always too cold to swim in, but on a warm day, you can enjoy the surf teasing your ankles.
It’s sunny out and we’re renting dune buggies. I’ve never done that before, despite the fact that Newport is a mere two hours from Springfield, an easy getaway spot for local families. Pamela has never taken me anywhere. I hear talk that Penelope and I went to Disney World once when I was three. But then, I have no memory of that, so does it matter? Besides, if I had to make a bet, I’d say my dad was responsible for such a trip.
Pam just isn’t the type to take two little girls on a kiddie vacation.
Anyway, renting a dune buggy for eight hundred bucks a day is such a Fuller High thing to do. Oak Valley brats probably own the company that manufactures the fucking things. Prescott kids … usually just steal them.
“How so?” I ask, raising a brow as I glance over my shoulder at the girls. They’re strapped into the bench seat together, with Heather in the middle. Victor looked like he was going to burst a vein in his neck when I told him I was riding in the Bronco with Aaron. But then he looked at Heather, her eyes narrowed, mouth turned down in a deep frown, and he knew he had little choice.
If my little sister doesn’t like Vic, we’re going to have problems.
“He hid behind the shark tank and leapt out!” Heather explains, her green eyes lighting up with joy. “We thought it was funny, but he made a little girl cry.” She grins big, but then her smile fades and she narrows her eyes at me. “You would’ve seen it if you’d been at the aquarium. Aren’t you and Vic bored in the hotel room all day?”
“I, uh,” I start, trying to wonder how I ended up essentially becoming the parent to an eight-year-old. “We’re on our honeymoon, Heather.” She wrinkles her nose at me and leans over to whisper something in Kara’s ear. They both giggle as they stare back at me, and I raise an eyebrow. “Do you want to fill me in on what’s going on?” I ask as Aaron chuckles and shuts the Bronco’s engine off.
“All I said was that you were probably kissing all over each other,” Heather quips, giving me this sassy little look that reminds me of, well, me. She really thinks she’s figured me and Vic out. God help her that she doesn’t ever understand us. I want her to spend her life with someone … normal. Painfully normal, really.
“Oh, you guessed it,” I say, and all three girls groan and roll their eyes as I open the door and hop out onto the sand-covered pavement. The wind swirls my hair around my face as I stare out at the nearly-empty beach with a peaceful sigh.
This is what we all needed: normalcy.
“There’s certainly a lot of sand here,” Oscar says, sitting on the hood of the Camaro in a black t-shirt and long, dark shorts. It’s so weird to see him wear anything but a suit; it always catches me off-guard. Remember how you saw him naked and vulnerable above you? How he made love to you and then ran off like a colossal prick? Did that catch ya off-guard, too, Bernie?
The girls take off past me, squealing and kicking off their shoes as Aaron struggles to keep up with them, yelling warnings about staying away from the water. I turn to Oscar with an angry fire burning in my belly.
“Yeah, it’s a beach,” I snap, drawing his attention around and over to me. It’s only been nine days since we ruined Aaron’s couch together; it feels like a fucking lifetime. And yet, I’m still furious over the whole situation. I know we’re both trying to pretend it didn’t happen, but I only know my own motivations for doing that: I’m embarrassed. That was an intimate moment to share with someone, and Oscar ruined it for me by running off and refusing to tell me what was wrong. “Aren’t you supposed to be the smart one? Because you sound fucking stupid right now.”
Oscar scowls at me, breaking that placid asshole look he enjoys wearing as a mask on his handsome face. I feel a spark inside at his expression though. I mean, it’s proof that he’s feeling something, right?
“You’re a cunt, Bernadette Blackbird. I’m assuming you’re aware of that?” he snaps back at me as Vic’s bike pulls up alongside the Camaro. Victor doesn’t hear what Oscar said to me, but as soon as he climbs off the Harley, he’s side-eying the both of us.
“Do I need to intervene in this shit?” he asks as he studies the pair of us with a look that’s one-part amusement, two-parts jealousy. “You two need to work through your crap, or we aren’t going to survive the rest of the school year.” Victor stands between us in holey jeans and a tight t-shirt that says Fuck You on the front of it. Very subtle. Add in his large statue, muscles, and ink, and he gets gawked at wherever he goes. I thought security might tackle him on his way out of the hotel this morning.
“We have nothing to work out,” Oscar lies, his tongue as slick as a snake’s. He slides off the hood and stands up, iPad tucked under his arm as per usual. Bet you wouldn’t leave your precious tablet alone on her period after coming inside of her, you nightmare of a man. “All is business as usual. We’re running nearly fifteen minutes ahead of schedule.”
“Nothing to work out?” I echo and Victor groans, sliding his hand over his face. “You bloodied your dick and ran, Oscar. I mean, what the hell is wrong with you?”
The way he looks at me, I’ve never been more certain that I was looking in the eyes of a person who was intent on committing murder. Hopefully, just not mine. Maybe he’s thinking of Mitch Charter or something?
After all, we left Prescott High a mess.
We left them cheering our destruction in the hallways.
We left a missing and bloodied Havoc Crew.
We left Kali’s smirking face and Billie’s whispered quips.
My fists clench at my sides and I force myself to take a deep breath.
“Ah, yes,” Oscar says as Vic scowls, clearly annoyed at having to discuss me fucking other guys on his honeymoon. Yet another atomic bomb waiting to explode and wash us all in emotional fallout: Vic seemed to be under the impression that I wouldn’t be having sex with anyone else after the wedding. “That’s right: you’re the type that gets emotional about sex.” He looks me straight in the face, but I can’t read anything in those gray eyes of his. The light catches on the lenses of his glasses, further shielding him from my scrutiny. “But rest assured, Mrs. Channing, that it meant nothing to me; I’ve already forgotten.”
Liar.
The word sings in my mind, bright and clear and sharp.
I narrow my eyes, but I don’t get the chance to respond because Vic does it for me.
“I told you that things would change after Bernadette and I were married.” Victor’s words are low and dark, drawing Oscar’s attention in an instant. “I meant it. This is your warning, Oscar. Don’t make me follow through with a threat.”
Oscar’s face darkens and tightens up as he returns Victor’s stare, all the while desperately trying to maintain his stoicism. He’s acting like this situation doesn’t bother him, but it’s breaking him into pieces. It’s written in the tense lines of his body, in the shape of his mouth, the way his knuckles turn white as he grips the tablet in stern claws by his side.
“Understood, boss.” His eyes flick my direction as he reaches up a tatted middle finger to push his glasses up his nose. “My apologies, Mrs. Channing. All I meant was that you needn’t worry about what happened between us on the couch ever happening again.” He smiles at me, and but his expression is hot with anger, and his lips are as sharp as a dagger.
I feel my spirit puncture and start to bleed from the attack.
“You're forgiven for today's transgressions, Montauk,” I purr back at him, stepping so close that when I pull in a breath, I smell cinnamon instead of salt water and sand. Oscar's stone-still in front of me, like he's managed to wrestle all those demons inside of him back into their cage. Impressive. “But you are not forgiven for fucking me on my period and running. You owe me an explanation.”
“I owe you nothing,” he breathes back, moving around me and taking off down the hill toward the picnic table where Hael and Callum are waiting. I watch him go, seething on the inside and wishing him ill with every subsequent breath.
“Jesus Christ, you two are going to put me in an early grave,” Victor grumbles, taking off down the path with the obvious intent that I follow after. With a sigh, I do, because as mad as I am at Oscar, I'm all-in for a life with Havoc.
What has been done cannot be undone.
My contract is signed and sealed in my blood; my fingers are stamped with ink; my heart is fractured into five fragments. No matter how much I wish it weren't, one of those pieces belongs to Oscar Montauk. Always has.
Like I said when he was pushing me down onto the couch, “Since elementary school.”
He let me cheat off his tests in sixth grade; he told me he was allergic to apples, so I’d take his from him, so I always had some extra food to bring home in case Pamela forgot to feed me. How can I forget those things? How can I forget that when I asked if he were in love with me, his response was, “You're bleeding.”
Gah!
I kick the sand and run the fingers of both hands through my hair to shake out the pink-tipped blond strands. I'm going to kill that cocksucker before we graduate if he doesn't start opening up to me, I swear to fuck.
“I hear you terrified some young children at the aquarium?” I ask Callum, trying to force a smile as I saunter up to the table next to him and Hael. The latter is already shirtless, basking in the sun and grinning like a man who's just escaped the noose. I mean, Brittany as a baby mama would've been rough, I'll grant him that. He deserves to smile, but only a little seeing as the bitch just broke her Havoc price.