Nightfall (Devil’s Night Book 4)

Nine Years Ago

Five-hundred pairs of feet stomped the bleachers, cheering their respective teams, and I watched Will shoot another two-pointer from the top of the key.

Howls filled the air as the ball fell through the net, and we raised our instruments, playing a few notes to celebrate the moment.

Elle’s arm pressed into mine, and I shifted to keep my balance. The whole place was packed, and I looked across the court to Morrow Sands’s cheer section, seeing it filled with a lot more girls than guys.

It was funny how good-looking basketball players could suddenly spark an interest in just about anything for teenage girls. Everyone was a basketball fan now.

The center passed the ball to Michael Crist, and he dribbled it, running the rest of the way down the court, passing it to Damon Torrance.

Damon caught it and bounced it up and down on the floor, two girls waving to him to where he stood in the wing. He shot the ball, and it bounced off the rim, spilling over.

Will caught it, jumped up, and dunked it, the buzzer blaring through the auditorium as it fell through.

I smiled, catching sight of his grin.

Everyone was a basketball fan now.

Cheers filled the room, and I glanced at the scoreboard.

59-65, Thunder Bay.

A close call.

The coaches and players on the bench swarmed the floor, and I lifted my flute as everyone else raised their instruments. We belted out the school song, all the attendees on our side singing along.

I watched Will, smiling as he hung onto his friends as the auditorium echoed with noise, chatter, and music, celebrating the win.

Not that I cared. I barely ever paid attention, only knowing it was my moment when the others around me stood up or readied their instruments.

Will pulled off his shirt, sweat glistening on his back and darkening his chocolate hair as he swung the shirt over his shoulder and nodded to whatever some guy from the opposing team was saying to him. I let my eyes trail down his spine.

I paid attention to the game tonight, though. He was good.

And he was fun to watch.

I followed the rest of the band off the bleachers as everyone started to clear the gym, and we made our way into a spare room to put our instruments away.

But then some girl yelled, “Emmy, catch!”, and I spun around just as a cup of something ice-cold crashed into my chest.

I sucked in a breath as cola spilled down my navy and white uniform, seeping through my pants, down my legs, and coating my flute.

I shot my eyes up. Are you kidding me?

Maisie Vos hung over the railing of the bleachers, feigning a look of surprise before breaking into a laugh.

“I thought you were the trash!” she explained, jogging down the bleachers and rounding them to approach me. “I mean, you clear our trash at school, so I thought you’d help me out here. That’s what I meant. Sorry.”

Air poured in and out of my lungs, but I still couldn’t catch my breath. She did that on purpose.

Elle stopped at my side, gaping, while others tiptoed around us, laughing under their breaths. A couple of guys followed Maisie, all seniors at my school, and I wanted to spew every dirty word in the book at them and their stupid faces.

But I just swallowed it down, because if not, then they’d win. They’d know that they mattered.

This was just my weekly reminder that I wasn’t one of them.

“What’s going on?” Will said, coming through the crowd with his shirt still hanging over his shoulder.

Maisie bit back her grin, while the two guys she was with made no effort to hide their amusement.

Will looked me up and down as the soda dripped off my clothes and flute, and then he turned his narrowed eyes on the two guys.

“Cover me,” he gritted out.

They stopped laughing, and I watched as Michael, Damon, and Kai took up position, surrounding Will as he stepped up to Hardy Reed and Silas Betchel.

The two boys straightened, looking suddenly uncomfortable, and no one said anything as the Horsemen shielded Will’s body from our view.

What…?

I looked around Michael to try see what was happening, but all I could catch was Will staring into Silas’s and Hardy’s eyes, doing something with his hands, but I couldn’t see what.

Then, Will froze, blinked once, and I heard it. The steady stream, almost like something was being ripped in a slow, constant line.

A wicked smile spread across Damon’s lips as Silas squeezed his eyes shut, and Hardy’s chest moved up and down faster as he turned his head away and cursed under his breath, “Son of a bitch.”

But whatever Will was doing, they stood there and took it.

After a moment, Will shifted again, never breaking eye contact as the Horsemen backed away and Silas and Hardy came into full view.

The whole place erupted in hoots and laughter.

My eyes fell, seeing the streams of piss wetting their jeans all the way down to their shoes, and Maisie dropped her eyes, heat rising to her cheeks as everyone made fun of her boyfriend standing there in a mess.

I clenched my teeth. They weren’t fucking laughing now.

Will bent down and swiped the cup off the floor and tossed it in the trash, but before he could meet my eyes, I spun around to leave.

The muscles in my throat ached as I struggled to keep back the tears.

But someone shouted behind me again, “Emmy, here.”

I tensed, but then a cheerleader rushed up and dug inside her backpack, taking out some clothes and handing them to me. Band came here in our uniforms. I didn’t have anything to change into.

I was tempted to toss it back at her and choke on my pride, but Martin would drill me if I came home like this.

I nodded once in thanks. “I’ll bring them back Monday.”

And I made my way for the bathroom to wipe up and change.

My chin trembled, everything threatening to spill over, and I didn’t know why. Stuff like that had happened before. It was no big deal. It wasn’t like it happened all the time.

I could’ve shoved Maisie if I wanted to. Yelled at her, maybe. Definitely bit back a little.

This time I just wanted to run. I didn’t want anyone to see me, like I was so embarrassing I wanted to erase myself from people’s memories and cease to exist.

Just disappear.

I cleaned and stashed my flute, changed clothes, and stuck in my earbuds, carrying my instrument and bag to the bus. It was an hour drive back to Thunder Bay, and I wished I could damn-well walk it.

Hanging my head, I charged toward the back of the vehicle, slid into an empty seat, and dumped my case and clothes on the floor. I held my phone in my hand, my playlist on Teenage Witch as I stared out the window.

People passed me, quiet and not a snicker to be heard, because Will Grayson had cast his net, letting them all know I was off limits.

It was actually okay. Scared or not, most of them weren’t going to sit down next to me anyway. They never did.

The bus filled up, and I waited for the seat next to me to dip, but as the doors closed, the lights dimmed, and the engine started, I remained solo.

I chewed the corner of my mouth to hide the tremble. What did I care? What did it matter that I’d been humiliated again? What did it matter that he saw that in the gym?

The tears welled.

He saw me. He saw that happen to me.

He saw what the whole world thought of me, and now he…

Now he…

A hand slipped under mine, warm and smooth, and I snapped my head left, seeing Will in the seat next to me.

What…?

A lump filled my throat as I gaped at the side of his face, wanting to be raging mad that he was there and touching me again without my permission, but…

He curled his fingers, gripping me, and…and it took a moment to get a hold of myself.

Finally, I forced a scowl and yanked my hand away.

Or tried to.

He wouldn’t let go. Or look at me. He just tossed his black hoodie over our hands and chatted to the guy in the next seat like I wasn’t here.

My heart pounded in my ears, drowning out the music from my earbuds, and I had to force my breathing to slow down.

I closed my eyes and turned toward the window. Why was he doing this?

And why was I just sitting here? The warmth from his strong fingers seeped into mine as he held me, and I looked over at him again, seeing him slouched in the seat, long legs stretched into the aisle as the players, cheerleaders, and band carried on around us.

He just stared at his phone now like there was nothing going on underneath the hoodie between us. Like he wasn’t completely aware that he was holding me.

It took three tries, but I eventually swallowed, wetting my dry throat as I pulled his sweatshirt over us more, making sure our hands were covered. Maybe he thought I didn’t want anyone to see. Maybe he didn’t want anyone to see. Either way, I didn’t care anymore.

The bus jostled side to side, taking us back onto the highway, and I fisted my hand, too, a fire burning low in my belly at the feel of his skin.

Movement caught my eye ahead, but I didn’t look up because I knew what it was. Desi Castro sat in our center’s lap, reverse cowgirl, and through the dim moonlight and shadows, I was pretty sure they were being fairly fucking stupid—albeit quietly—in the seat in front of us.

Her long, red locks draped over the back of the seat, and I finally raised my eyes as she leaned back against him, their lips barely touching as their bodies moved slow but rhythmic in the darkness.

Will rubbed his thumb across my finger, and my stomach flipped, the gesture comforting.

My phone beeped, and I turned over my right hand, unlocking the screen with my thumb. The phone lit up my place by the window, rain pummeling the bus as we drove through the dark night.

“Let me take you home,” it read.

I clicked my music off, glancing over and seeing his phone in his hand, too—the same text visible.

“No,” I typed back.

I couldn’t let him take me home. Not ever. I tried to pull away from his hand, but he clasped it tightly.

“Let me take you home,” he typed again.

I clenched my teeth and turned my eyes out the window. I tried to pull my hand away once more, but he grasped it, forcing it instead onto my thigh, his fingers grazing my skin there.

A bolt of lightning shot through me, but instead of being angry, butterflies swarmed in my stomach and I squeezed my eyes shut. Leaving him there.

My phone beeped, and it took a moment to look at it. “I want to hold you like that,” it said.

I glanced up at Miller and Desi again, his arms wrapped around her, and I pictured myself in Will’s lap, parked off some dark road in the rain, and it took everything I had not to look at him, because if I did, he’d know…

He would know that I didn’t always hate him. A sliver of my brain was starting to believe there was more to him.

But I shoved his hand off, biting the corner of my mouth to keep the emotions away.

“Cops came to the warehouse and took all the tappers,” someone said loud enough to pierce my earbuds.

I turned my head enough to see a cheerleader, Lynlee Hoffman, across the aisle, looking back at Will.

He sat there, his hand still under the hoodie, acting like everything was completely normal. “Oh, yeah?” he said.

But he didn’t give a shit.

Lynlee shot me a look, narrowing her eyes and lifting her chin, because if they found out there was a party, it was because I had told my brother, right? As if the cops had to be geniuses to figure out a win always equaled a kegger at the warehouse. Duh.

I turned up the volume on my music again, drowning out any other sounds and tapped my thumbs, typing out a message. “Take her home. She’ll drool all over your dumb haircut and extensive knowledge of micro-brews and penis jokes.”

I mean, he was a jock.

I felt him shake with a laugh next to me.

He typed, letters flashing on his screen. “I take you home, or I take you in my lap right here. Decide.”

I ground my teeth together.

Everyone would see that. If my brother heard about it, I’d…

Jesus.

Damon leaned up from behind us, squeezing Will’s shoulders and talking in his ear. Will laughed at whatever he said, no one the wiser.

My phone beeped again. “Almost there,” he warned.

I shook my head. “People will see,” I typed out.

“Then make sure they don’t.”

He pulled the hoodie off us and slipped it over his head, covering his white, sleeveless T-shirt and his tan, toned, beautiful arms that always made my mouth hang open like an imbecile.

We entered Thunder Bay, heading back to our campus where everyone would pick up their cars and head to parties, but I’d be walking and heading straight home, as always.

I stared out the window, seeing the village breeze past, the twinkle lights of the park, and my neighborhood before we got up into the cliffs where Will and the wealthy resided. Part of me wanted it. Part of me loved how good his attention felt, because he was cocky and confident and good-looking and smooth. He was popular, looked great in everything he wore, and I liked his smile.

He was untouchable, and he wanted to touch me.

Tonight, anyway.

My eyes dropped to my lap. Even if I wanted to, though, my brother would never tolerate it.

The phone vibrated in my hand once, and then again and again, but I just bobbed my head to the music like I didn’t notice. The school came into view, and liquid heat rushed my chest, but I ignored it. I was almost out of here, and he could spend the rest of the night taking whomever he wanted home, for all I cared.

We were nothing.

Another text came in, and I finally looked.

“When the bus stops, get in my fucking truck.”

I breathed out a bitter laugh. Aw, someone’s lost his temper.

“Why?” I asked.

And the next thing I know, the bus stopped, he yanked the earbuds out of my ears, and I sucked in a breath as he leaned into my face.

“Because you’re mine,” he growled in a whisper.

And all at once, the Horsemen rose from their seats, grabbed their bags, and charged down the aisle, leaving the bus first.

My heart hammered. What the—

Seriously.

Because you’re mine. I ignored the flutter in my chest as I grabbed my bag and fumbled for my dangling earbuds.

I mean, for Christ’s sake. What was his deal? Was I on some scavenger hunt he was doing or something? Nail the Nerd?

I rose with everyone else and stepped into the aisle, getting ready to leave the bus.

I’m not yours, Will Grayson.

And I’ll walk, thanks.

The bus emptied, engines out in the parking lot already firing up and headlights glowing in the night. I walked to the undercarriage to see if anyone needed help with their equipment, but it was empty already, the band and players quickly clearing out.

I turned to bolt and make my escape before he saw me, but Elle clasped my hand.

“We’re getting a ride home,” she said.

“Huh?”

“Will,” Elle explained, pulling me along. “He’s taking us home.”

“Um, no.” I yanked my hand away. “He’s not.”

“You don’t want me riding alone with him, do you?” She planted her hands on her hips. “A mature guy, used to getting what he wants?”

“Then you shouldn’t have agreed to it.”

Pivoting back around, I headed toward the gates to go home.

“But tomorrow I can say I rode in his truck,” she whined, jogging up to the side of me.

So? “No.”

He was only offering to give her a ride because it included me. It would only encourage him.

Elle fell back, and I kept walking.

“It’s nice to be nice, Emmy,” she called after me. “Please?”

I slowed, her pathetic whine making me feel guilty. I stopped and rolled my eyes, sighing. Him giving her a ride would make her year.

And who was I kidding? He wasn’t going to give up if I refused a ride tonight. The creepy-stalker-weirdo would follow me in that damn truck. Right up to my front door.

I turned around, seeing her already heading back into the parking lot, a morose slump to her shoulders.

“Wait,” I bit out.

She spun around, smiling ear to ear.

I joined her again, and we both walked over to Will’s truck, still parked.

“You’re sitting up front,” she told me. “My house is first.”

Huh—?

But she shoved me at the door of the huge, black Ford Raptor and pulled open the back door, climbing into the truck before I could utter an argument.

Seriously?

I yanked open the door and stepped up into the truck, ignoring Will’s eyes as I plopped my ass down and slammed the door.

But just then, the back door opened again, and I shot a glance over my shoulder, watching Elle quickly exit the truck again and close the door.

“What are you…?”

She walked past my window, swinging around and moving backward as she winked at me. “Have a safe ride!” she sing-songed, doing a taunting little wave.

What the…? I stopped breathing as realization dawned. This was a trick. Dammit.

The locks clicked, the parking lot still swarmed with people, and I was officially done for the day, shaking my head as I watched her disappear into the crowd.

“That’s what I get for trying to make a friend,” I grumbled.

I pulled my seatbelt on, glaring over at Will as a smile curled his lips and he started the engine.

So clever, wasn’t he? Must’ve worked that out with her in the thirty seconds it took for me to get off the bus.

He pulled ahead, driving through the empty space ahead of us, and exited the parking lot, turning up the volume as “In Your Room” played on the stereo.

We drove down the road, heading back toward the village, and I clasped my hands in my lap as my bag and flute sat on the floor.

It smelled good in here. The leather seats cooled the backside of my thighs, and my stomach dropped a little as he went over the bumps and dips.

The darkness of the cab engulfed us, hiding us, and it felt private. Like we were alone somewhere we shouldn’t be.

Sneaking a glance, I watched his long fingers drape over the T of the steering wheel and then looked up to his face, seeing his eyes narrowed on the road ahead and the unusually stern expression on his face.

His chest rose and fell, steady and controlled, and if there was one thing I knew about Will Grayson III, it was that when he was in control you should worry.

Like in the pool last night.

When he got serious, he got to me.

I looked back down at my lap, breathing hard and feeling a little sick because my body was raging with a lot of different things.

I liked it.

We crawled closer to my house, and he hadn’t said a word, but I didn’t care. I just soaked up the feeling for as long as I could. Feeling him next to me. Riding with him. The goosebumps on my legs, because I felt kind of pretty in the skirt now. Did he like it?

He turned onto my street, and I clutched the hem of my shirt, seeing my house ahead, but I didn’t want to leave him.

He drove too fast, though. Why was he driving so fast? He had to stop in a second.

But we passed my house, not stopping or even slowing, and I popped my head up, looking back at my place through his back window.

He maintained speed, not slowing as my house came and went, disappearing again.

I swallowed the lump in my throat, despite my heart leaping a little. “You have to take me home,” I said. “I can’t be late.”

I couldn’t muster any more than a soft voice, because I really didn’t want to go home. I just knew I had to.

Finally, he glanced over at me. “What are you afraid will happen? You’re good at saying no to me, right? You can stay with me for another hour.”

I arched a brow. What the hell was he going to try that would make me need to say no?

I checked the clock on the dash. It was only 9:19. As long as I was home by ten, Martin probably wouldn’t ask questions. Probably.

He would know the bus had arrived already, though.

Will drove us through the neighborhood and pulled onto Old Pointe Road, heading toward Adventure Cove.

I tensed. What was he up to? The place closed at eight, and there was nothing else out here.

He turned and pulled into the parking lot of the theme park, the whole place empty for the night. He stopped the truck, not really bothering to fit into any particular space, but he kept the engine running and turned down the radio.

I let my eyes trail around the deserted lot, the empty ticket booths and darkened rides looming beyond the entrance gates. One single overhead light shone on the parking lot.

I looked at him out of the corner of my eye as he leaned back in his seat, staring out the window as the weight of the silence made my heart skip a beat.

“Do you see the Ferris wheel?” he finally asked.

I followed his gaze, looking out my window and finding the Ferris wheel to the right, on the edge of the theme park.

“If you head past it,” he said, “about five-hundred yards east, you’ll come to Cold Point.”

Cold Point was a part of the cliffs that jutted out into the sea a little more than the rest of the coastline between here and Falcon’s Well. With the theme park in the way, it was nearly inaccessible now.

And for good reason, given its history.

“Do you know that story?” he asked me.

“Murder-suicide,” I muttered.

He was quiet, and then I heard his soft, “Maybe.”

I turned my eyes to him as he leaned his head on his hand and stared ahead.

“In 1954, Edward McClanahan was my age,” he told me. “Senior, basketball star, bit of a bad boy, but only where it counted…” He smiled, teasing me. “He was good to people. He showed up for people, you know?”

I didn’t know much about Edward McClanahan, other than the basketball team made an annual pilgrimage to his grave. I never really cared.

But I stayed quiet.

“That season was supposed to be their greatest,” he said. “They had the team, the coach, the years of training… They could anticipate each other’s moves, even their thoughts.” He met my eyes. “That’s what years of playing together had brought them to. They were a family. More than family. They were in perfect symbiosis.”

Like the Horsemen. Watching them sometimes, the other players didn’t exist. Michael, Kai, Damon, and Will were like the four limbs of a single body.

“And that rarely happens,” he continued. “They relied on each other and would do anything for each other, and they were going all-conference. Everyone was hyped for what was coming that season. The games, the parties, the celebrations…”

I wondered how true all of that was. He painted a nice picture, but we believe what it suits us to believe, and nothing more. Everything seemed better in hindsight.

He smiled. “Elvis had just hit the scene, everyone wanted a Chevy Bel Air, and “Sh-Boom” by the Crew-Cuts was the number one song in America.” His face fell a little, and he continued, “Homecoming Night, a girl from Falcon’s Well—one of our rivals—showed up at our high school dance. Alone and wearing a pink dress of lace and tulle. The twinkle lights above the dance floor glittered across her hair and bare shoulders as she walked in, and no one could take their eyes off her. She was so nervous, knowing she didn’t belong there.” He paused, turning his head and holding my eyes. “Feeling like a mouse in a snake pit. She kept holding her stomach like she was going to throw up or something. But she was pretty. So pretty. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her.”

McClanahan.

I looked off, past the Ferris wheel and toward Cold Point, seeing her in my head. The strapless pink dress that poofed out the way dresses in the fifties did, while young men wore suits.

“They say she came to cause trouble,” he told me, his soft, low voice drifting into my ear. “That the rival team sent her to sow discord. They say she taunted our whole team. Tried to get them to do things to her that night so she could play the victim the next day.”

Why was he telling me this?

“No one knows how they knew where to find the body, or if she even screamed, but she was found through the morning fog hours later, broken on the jagged rocks below,” he said, “her pink dress stained red and the waves plastering her hair to the stones as her dead eyes stared up at the cliff above. The last thing she saw was the person who pushed her.”

I tried to lick my lips, but my mouth was too dry.

“They say the team was going to have to forfeit the season under all the media scrutiny and investigation.” He drew in a long breath and exhaled. “They say all the guys who didn’t come from wealthy families were going to have to forego their hopes of athletic scholarships because of it. They wouldn’t go to college.” He paused. “They say the coach would have to be fired and move his family, the prospects of finding another job after such a scandal not high.”

I didn’t know all that. I listened as he went on.

“All I know is,” he sighed, “a week later, Edward McClanahan left a confession on his parents’ kitchen table and then followed her over the cliff. The last line of the confession read ‘We want what we want.’”

I turned my eyes on him as sweat cooled my pores.

We want what we want.

“They say McClanahan sacrificed himself so the season could go on.”

Like he took the blame? He didn’t do it?

“That’s what they say, anyway,” he mused, a gleam hitting his eyes. “But the whispers tell of something else.”

A flutter hit my stomach, and I barely breathed, waiting for him to continue.

“They say she was caught between two best friends—McClanahan, who was in love with her, and A.P., her boyfriend. He wasn’t wealthy like McClanahan, but he was clever. And ambitious. Not someone to be underestimated.”

My interest piqued even more. A mystery.

I liked mysteries.

“They say she was pregnant,” he told me. “They say she jumped.” And then he looked at me again. “They say Edward… didn’t.”

Didn’t jump? So the rumors say Edward was pushed instead?

A smile played on his lips. “They say the note on the kitchen table was a confession, but not his.”

He took another breath and looked out the front windshield again. Everyone revered Edward because they thought he took the fall to save the team’s season. Save some kids their college scholarships and a coach his job.

I always thought it was moronic. Edward clearly didn’t understand all that life could throw at you. He had far bigger things to survive than a scandal.

But I liked the way Will told it. Like nothing was what it seemed, and there was a story waiting to be unearthed.

After all, no one really knew what happened out at the Point all those decades ago.

“I like it here,” he almost whispered. “I like mystery. Sometimes I’m dying to know what happened that night, and other times, I hope I never find out, because it’s more interesting this way. Reality always disappoints.” He turned to me. “I think that’s why I’ve always liked this time of day best. People hide in the dark. They quench their thirsts in the dark. They build their secrets in the dark. We’re more ourselves here than anywhere else. I get to be me…” he swallowed, staring at me, “when nightfall is coming.”

I gazed into his dark green eyes, his whole face enshadowed in the cab of the truck, and I wanted…

Every nerve on my lips hummed, feeling the weight between us like each end of a string tied around him and me, and it kept getting shorter.

I want…

“We want what we want,” he whispered.

I dropped my eyes to my lap, fisting my hands.

And then his voice came again, barely audible, “Come here,” he said.

My heart dipped into my belly, and I could feel him in my hands. I looked at him, seeing him grind the steering wheel under his fist and breathing hard

“Come here,” he said again.

I absently shook my head. “Why?”

“Because I’m your man.”

My heart cracked and splintered, aching with the warmth of those stupid words. Who the hell was he, huh? He didn’t get to decide that someone belonged to him just because it struck his fancy.

And that’s all I was. A passing fancy. He didn’t listen, and he didn’t take no for an answer.

If I let this happen—let him love me and protect me and all that shit he spewed—I’d just be trading one abuse for another.

He’d use me, dump me, and I’d be worse off for it.

I’d be shattered.

“Take me home,” I demanded.

He blinked, but didn’t move otherwise.

I unlocked my door, yanked the handle, and pushed my door open, jumping out.

I’d walk then. Fuck you.

Slamming the door, I heard his open on the other side, and he’d rounded the car and stopped me in my tracks before I even made it to the tailgate.

“Why are you afraid of me?” he barked, backing me up.

“Why did you tell me that story?” I retorted.

“Why do you think?”

“To prove again what I already know?” I yelled. “That Thunder Bay boys always get away with it.”

I stopped, and so did he. “You think Edward McClanahan got away with anything?” he fired back.

I didn’t give a shit about Edward McClanahan! I just… I just wanted… I just wanted to go home!

“I told you, because I like this place,” he finally answered. “I wanted you here with me, because…” He searched for words, his hand shooting to his hair and gripping it. “Because we want what we want, Em! Jesus!”

“Take me home.”

He inched in, his eyes on fire. “No.”

I chuckled once, aghast. Was he kidding?

“This isn’t happening,” I spat out, getting back in his face. “I’m not going to be the one all over you in the school hallways tomorrow in front of everyone. I’m something dirty you hide!”

“Speak for yourself,” he growled. “I think you’re the one ashamed of me. That you want me. That you want this.”

I laughed. “And who told you that? Your secret society of date rapists who advised that me walking away from you the last fifteen times was a ‘signal’.” And I held up my hands, doing air quotes.

He snarled and advanced on me, but then backed away and turned around. He ran his hands through his hair again, and I could see him breathing hard, the vein in his neck bulging.

“I would never stop touching you,” he said, his voice almost tired. “And I would touch only you.”

He turned and looked at me, and he was so beautiful I wanted to believe him.

Raindrops started to fall again, lightning flashing across the sky, followed by thunder cracking overhead.

Out of all the boys in school, Will was the biggest threat. Not because he was handsome or because he was one of the only ones who was ever somewhat interested in me, but because…

He never gave up. Deep down, I loved that, because I was going to be an effort for anyone, and he wasn’t easily discouraged.

Right now, I wanted him to pick me up.

But instead, I circled the truck and climbed in the driver’s side, immediately locking the doors. If he wasn’t driving me home, I’d drive myself.

Rain tapped against his window, and I watched him come around and stand there, a glint in his eyes at my challenge.

I waited for him to try to stop me, but…he didn’t.

Shifting the truck into gear, I punched the gas and sped off, pulling a quick U-turn as the tires screeched against the pavement.

I sped past him and headed out of the parking lot, not even taking one last look in my rearview mirror.

I turned onto the dark road and pressed the gas pedal to the floor, speeding back to Thunder Bay and gripping the wheel like it was his damn neck.

Who did he think he was? Did every girl just roll over and thank her lucky stars for his attention? Is that where he got such confidence?

I just wanted to go home. Study. Graduate. And leave this town.

I didn’t want anything else!

“Ugh!” I growled, turning up the radio and inching up in my seat because I could barely reach the damn pedals, and it was too dark to try to figure out how to adjust the seat in this stupid truck.

God, where did he get off? He’s all like “Hey, babe. I’m—insert hair flip and surfer boy tone—Will Grayson. Should we like, maybe get together and mate? We can totally honeymoon in Hawaii. I’ll put a stamp in your passport and make all your dreams come true.”

Which of course, we wouldn’t need our passports, because Hawaii was still in our own country!

I growled under my breath, breathing hard as rain fell harder, blurring the road in front of me.

I turned on the wipers, my brain calming a little.

Okay, okay. He wasn’t that dumb.

He wasn’t dumb at all. He would know Hawaii was in America.

And he didn’t say ‘like’ and ‘totally’.

I hooded my eyes, sighing. And he could be kind.

And sweet.

I hesitated a moment, watching the rain really come down now before I slowed on the empty highway and pulled another U-turn, heading back to him.

He was persistent to the point of exhaustion, but…I couldn’t let him walk home in this. I couldn’t do that to him.

Speeding back to the Cove, I turned into the parking lot again and spotted him kicked back on a parking stump, hood up and ankles crossed.

I pulled up next to him, rolling down the window.

He peered up at me, batting his eyelashes against the rain.

“I really don’t like you,” I said nice and loud so we were clear.

He smiled and pushed himself up, coming up to the truck and climbing up on the step, peering down at me.

“I like that you don’t like me,” he taunted.

He pushed his hood off, and I watched streams of rain cascade down his face.

“So, I’m a challenge then?” I asked. “That’s what all this is really about?”

“No.” He shook his head. “You just make me want to be…”

“Better?” I rolled my eyes at the cliché statement.

But he paused a moment. “More,” he finally said. “No one ever expects more from me.”

I studied him, not having anything to say to that.

I looked down at the phone in his hand instead. “Is someone coming to get you already?”

“No.” He stuffed the phone in his pocket. “I was getting ready to call your brother to report my stolen car.”

I widened my eyes and almost screamed, but I just clamped my mouth shut and gritted my teeth.

Son of a bitch.

“Scoot over,” he said.

I huffed and crawled over the console into my seat, and he opened the door, climbing in.

• • •

“Can I pick you up for school Monday morning?” he asked, turning onto my street.

I unfastened my seatbelt. “No.”

“I just asked to be nice,” he said in a stern tone. “I’m picking you up. I don’t like you walking.”

“Please…” I shook my head, ready to plead. “Please don’t.”

We approached my house, and I grabbed my bag and flute off the floor.

“Stop here,” I told him.

“I’m not afraid of your brother, Em.”

“Please just drop me here,” I bit out. “Stop the truck, Will. Please.”

“Okay.” He quickly pulled over to the curb, sliding behind Mrs. Costa’s Buick.

I opened the door, but he grabbed my hand.

I looked at him over my shoulder.

“I’ll be right here,” he said. “At seven.”

I stared at him for a moment, wondering if saying no again would do any good, but I just took my stuff and jumped down from the cab.

I met his eyes once more before I closed the door and then jogged down the sidewalk, turning up my walkway. I looked around for anyone who might’ve seen us, but thankfully, it was late and the street was quiet.

I climbed my steps and twisted the door handle, my heart dropping a little because that meant Martin was still up.

I stepped inside and heard Will’s truck finally pull off, breezing past my house. I closed and locked the door, my lips twitching with a smile.

He actually waited until I was inside to leave.

Dishes clanked in the kitchen, and I dropped my bags to the floor, heading in to face the music. I had no idea how late I was, and I hadn’t checked my phone for missed calls.

Hands in my jacket pockets, I stopped just inside the dark kitchen.

Martin stood at the sink, pre-washing dishes before loading them into the dishwasher. He turned his head, eyeing me over his shoulder.

“Dinner is there.” He gestured to the plate on the table.

But I rushed up to his side instead, taking the plate out of his hand. “I can do it. You worked all day.”

He let me take over, grabbing a towel and drying his hands as he stepped away. I took the dish brush and scrubbed the crust from our breakfast this morning.

“You know,” he said. “Funny thing. When you didn’t make it home by ten, I tracked your phone.”

I faltered, feeling the hair on my arms rise. He could track my phone? How long had he been doing that?

“It told me that you were at the Cove.” He walked away and leaned against the counter, his eyes on me. “Funny thing is, the Cove closed at eight tonight, and when I drove out there, all I saw was Will Grayson’s truck in the parking lot.”

I rubbed circles on the plate, pressing hard so my hands wouldn’t shake.

“I support your education, Emory,” he told me, “your extracurricular activities, and your projects, because I want you to make something of yourself, and I know that all looks good on your college resumé.”

I put the plate in the dishwasher and picked up another one, avoiding his gaze.

I wished I was still in Will’s truck.

“And while you’re off playing, I’m working or I’m here.” He inched closer. “No woman wants me with you in this house. No one wants me because I can never give her the Thunder Bay life, because I’m paying for Grand-Mère’s nurse and for you.”

He stopped at my side, and I couldn’t stop shaking as I washed the dish.

“And you’re off playing,” he said, pushing me in the head.

I stumbled to the side. “Martin…”

“You don’t listen to anything I say.” He dug the tips of his fingers into my skull and shoved again, and I almost dropped the brush. “Is it so hard? Just doing what I tell you to do?”

He pushed me in the head again like I was stupid, and I fell to the side, dropping the dish and brush into the sink. I waited for the slap, but he just grabbed my wrist and yanked me to the table.

Pushing me down in the seat, he grabbed a handful of the spaghetti and stuffed it to my mouth.

Tears swelled my throat, and I squeezed my eyes shut, holding it back.

“As if we don’t have enough problems, you go and get a reputation for being one of their little whores,” he said, stuffing another fistful into my mouth. “Thinking you’re going to be one of them. Thinking you’re better and them thinking they’re better because they get to play with you like a toy!”

Spaghetti flew in my face, dirtying my glasses as he stuffed handful after handful at my mouth, the noodles pressing down my throat so hard I couldn’t breathe.

Silent tears streamed down my eyes. I twisted my head away, trying to spit it out, but he grabbed my face and squeezed my jaw to open me up again.

I couldn’t stop crying as I gasped for air. I couldn’t breathe, and I gripped the sides of the table, my teeth cutting the insides of my mouth.

I tried to think of my gazebo. If Will helped me build it.

How nice that might be someday.

Will and the gazebo… Will and the gazebo…

The breeze on my face was warm, and the leaves in the trees smelled like summer.

But as Martin yelled, and I gagged, spaghetti choking me, I couldn’t muster another single coherent thought.

I couldn’t think. I couldn’t remember what Will looked like. What my gazebo looked like.

I didn’t have a gazebo. There was no Will Grayson.

There was nothing but this.

There was nothing but this.