Home > Chaos at Prescott High (The Havoc Boys #2)(12)

Chaos at Prescott High (The Havoc Boys #2)(12)
Author: C.M. Stunich

Relief surges through me and I slump against the wall with my right shoulder, closing my eyes and listening to the sounds of play, sounds that I left behind a long, long time ago. It feels like it's been centuries since I was a child.

The Thing stole that from me, my innocence and my childhood.

My sister.

Gritting my teeth, I open my eyes and then push up off the wall, moving down the hallway to open Kara's door. The three girls are sitting around an iPad, watching a TikTok video about eye shadow. They look up guiltily as I pause in the door, leaning against the jamb.

I feel exhausted, emotionally and physically.

Between the Halloween party, the Thing's visit, and Aaron's near death … I'm dead on my feet. Add in the video and I'm about half-ready to crack, steal one of Oscar's guns, and go take care of my stepdad myself.

“We were just looking,” Heather says, pausing the video, like wanting to learn how to put sparkly eye shadow on is the devil's work. It's Mom's fault that she feels like this. Pamela has never kept her jealousy or distaste hidden from us, calling me and Pen whores and sluts for dressing up and wearing makeup. She’s scared Heather out of having any interest in fashion or makeup or fitness. Or at least, I thought she had.

“If you guys can stay up here for a little while, and keep the door closed, I'll take you to get some makeup later. If you're really good,” I tease, crouching down next to them and pressing play on the video, “then I'll show you how to put it on, Bernadette style.”

I reach out and cup the side of Heather's head, giving her a kiss on the forehead, even as she wrinkles her nose at me and sticks out her tongue. I'm glad she thinks something as simple as a kiss from her big sister is icky; that's how I used to feel. It means she believes I'll be here forever.

I intend to be, even if it means putting my faith back in Havoc.

When I made the decision to call out that word, to bring their dark wrath down on me, I knew what I was getting into, knew I was climbing into bed with demons so they might fight my devils. Lesser of two evils, that's all they've ever been. Somehow, I let myself be tricked into believing that my childhood fantasies about the boys might actually come to fruition. I lost my mind in a pretty black wedding gown, tattooed hands, and sultry smiles.

“We'll stay upstairs,” Heather agrees, eyes sparkling at the idea of some colorful new eye shadow. She won't pick pink like Pen, that's for sure. More than likely, she'll choose something I'd like. Purple. Teal. Black.

“Good girls,” I say, giving Kara a kiss, too. Ashley is still a little shy when I'm around, clutching a stuffed narwhal and leaning away from me, so I don't bother her. Nobody should have affection forced on them, not even children. Even when it seems innocent—go sit on your new daddy's lap, Bernadette—it might not be.

With a groan, I shove to my feet, feeling like an old lady as my joints protest. All that running I did yesterday has shown me exactly how out of shape I really am. Add in the bruised knees from my many falls, and I’m practically limping.

I head down the stairs, fully expecting a confrontation with the guys. Instead, I find Aaron, slumped over on the couch, shirtless and bandaged and sleeping. I pad over to stand in front of him, watching his eyelids flicker as he dreams, wondering if they're more nightmares than anything else. He doesn't stir, not even when I reach out and brush some auburn hair back from his sweaty forehead.

“You still love him.”

I turn my head to find Vic, leaning against the arch that leads into the kitchen, his inked-up arms crossed over his equally inked-up chest. My breath comes out in a rush as my body comes to life, my heartbeat racing, my skin flushing with heat. Nobody ever said we were lacking chemistry. It's trust, apparently, that's missing here.

And when I was just starting to believe their bullshit, too.

“You're a Havoc Girl now, and we don't keep secrets from each other.”

“You must've gotten a good laugh out of all this,” I say, stepping back from Aaron and turning to face the leader of the Havoc Boys dead-on. Vic stares back at me, his arms a mosaic of color, his face a study in masculine architecture. Whatever dark god created him, they should be proud. He oozes sexuality and confidence, danger, violence. He's the perfect alpha male, the perfect leader.

He's also a liar.

“A good laugh?” Vic asks, cocking a dark brow. “Out of what? You seeing your sister raped on film? No. I never wanted that.”

“If you didn't want that, you should've told me sooner. You should've let me make that choice,” I growl, pointing to my chest as I grit my teeth and feel my lust quickly being replaced with anger. “After all your bullshit, all your reassurances, you and the others, you're exactly what I thought you would be.”

“And that is?” Vic asks, uncrossing his arms and moving toward me. He keeps a healthy distance between us—smart move on his part—but it still feels too close. He's always too close to me, always digging beneath my skin and into my soul with those depthless eyes of his. Unending. Infinite. Eternal. Victor Channing will outlast an apocalypse, I'm sure of it.

“Monsters,” I clarify, exhaling sharply and then moving past him to get into the kitchen. I forgot to eat yesterday and I'm starving. When I open the fridge, I find leftovers from a taco dinner: cooked ground beef in a Tupperware container, chopped green onions and shredded cheese, all of it wrapped up and carefully put away. Havoc is far more domestic than they first appear, and you know what? That makes them even scarier. There's nothing they can't do, no chasm they can't cross.

“Hael cooked for the girls last night,” Vic explains, without my even having to ask. “He's surprisingly good at it.” He lets out a low chuckle and shakes his head, stepping back into the archway and blocking me into the kitchen. I'd say I didn't think he meant to do that, that he's just big and muscular and the space is small, but I don't believe that for a second.

Nothing Vic ever does is by accident.

“Must be all those morning-after breakfasts he cooks for his one-night stands,” I quip, despite the fact that tacos aren't exactly a breakfast food. When I suck in a deep breath, I can smell the weed curing in the bathroom around the corner, just past the laundry room. There are joints all over this house; I just need to find some, light up, and try to calm my head.

“Bernadette, I need you to listen to me,” Vic says, but I ignore him, getting out the leftovers, and opening a fresh pack of flour tortillas. I turn the gas stove on and then throw a tortilla directly onto the burner. It cooks fast that way, and there's no oil involved. Win-win. Victor watches me as I pretend he doesn't exist. Pretend being the key word. I could never truly forget about Vic, no matter how hard I tried. Shit, I'm wearing the guy's family heirloom on my finger. “We never meant to keep that video from you. I'd always intended on showing you, but it got lost in the hustle and bustle of everything else. There's so much, Bernadette. So damn much. We're taking this one step at a time.”

“Why does it seem like everyone else in Havoc wanted me gone?” I ask, lifting my eyes up to look at Vic. He repositions himself on the opposite side of the peninsula, putting his palms atop the counter and leaning in to look at me. “But not you. According to every other asshole in Havoc, my being here was your idea.”

“Let’s talk about the video,” Vic says, redirecting the conversation and making me grit my teeth. “You're upset, understandably so. What you saw, no person should ever have to witness. But we didn't intentionally hide that from you, and we never lied.”

“You had the video for years and did nothing with it,” I repeat, feeling my eyes begin to sting, my lips quiver. I don't want to cry. I cried enough yesterday. But somehow, with my sister dead and gone, lost in the claws of a monster that makes Havoc look like good guys by comparison, it doesn't seem like I can truly cry enough. It'll never be enough, not when it comes to Pen. She was my older sister, my best friend, the only family I had that truly cared about me.

And now she's gone.

And I've sold my soul to see justice. My body. My heart. My dignity.

“I explained that to you yesterday,” Vic says softly. “And we did do something with it; Neil has known all along that we have that video. We leveraged it against him so that he’d keep his fucking hands off of you. We didn’t know Pen was going to die the next day. Nobody could’ve known that.” There's something about the tenderness in his voice that really gets me, cuts right through the flesh and bone of my body and delves into my soul. I'm bleeding again, just splashing crimson everywhere, and I don't know what to do about it.

That's what sets me off, how gentle and vulnerable he sounds.

No.

I'm not letting him or any of the others pull the wool over my eyes again.

I throw the tortilla on a plate and then lift my eyes up to meet Vic's.

“You're right,” I tell him, and he cocks a brow, seemingly pleased with himself. But if he thought things would be that easy, then he doesn't know Bernadette Blackbird for shit. “I do love him.”

“What?” Vic barks on the end of a harsh laugh. He's forgotten about his statement from just a few minutes ago.

“Aaron,” I repeat, putting another tortilla on the burner and shrugging my shoulders like it doesn't matter. But it does. It matters in innumerable ways, too many to count or quantify. It matters because that statement isn't just a way to make Vic hurt; it's an admission to myself. Seeing Aaron covered in blood, his face ashen, his lips pale, that was a wakeup call for me.

Nothing lasts forever.

And a lie you tell yourself can be just as damaging as one you tell to somebody else.

I love Aaron Fadler, and I've never stopped loving him.

That doesn't mean I forgive him or that I want to get back together, but it's something.

“I love Aaron,” I repeat again, loving the way Vic's jaw clenches, the muscle in his neck ticking as his pulse picks up, fueled by jealous rage. I love it, too. And I'm not ashamed of that. I want him to hurt the way I'm hurting right now. See, told you we were both toxic.

   
Most Popular
» Magical Midlife Meeting (Leveling Up #5)
» Magical Midlife Love (Leveling Up #4)
» The ​Crown of Gilded Bones (Blood and Ash
» Lover Unveiled (Black Dagger Brotherhood #1
» A Warm Heart in Winter (Black Dagger Brothe
» Meant to Be Immortal (Argeneau #32)
» Shadowed Steel (Heirs of Chicagoland #3)
» Wicked Hour (Heirs of Chicagoland #2)
» Wild Hunger (Heirs of Chicagoland #1)
» The Bromance Book Club (Bromance Book Club
» Crazy Stupid Bromance (Bromance Book Club #
» Undercover Bromance (Bromance Book Club #2)
romance.readsbookonline.com Copyright 2016 - 2024