Don’t Make Me Beg (Ashford Falls #2)

Prologue

Luka

Eight years ago…

The music blares all around me and my drunken classmates as I make my way through the crowded pool party, my eyes searching for a petite, brown haired girl in glasses.

My best friend isn’t really the partying type. If she had things her way, we’d be celebrating graduation in the comfort of my living room. Probably rewatching one of her favorite old horror movies that I still have to pretend don’t scare the shit out of me.

I swear, she’s such a little weirdo…not that she looks like it from the outside.

She’s a good girl in every sense of the word, a literal seventeen-year-old Girl Scout—I know, I can barely handle the irony—and I’m just the bad boy next door neighbor her parents can’t wait for her to move away from.

Too bad for them, getting rid of me won’t be that easy.

Little do they know, it’s not just graduation we’re celebrating tonight…I’ve been buzzing with excitement all day. And now that the festivities are over, I finally get to tell her my good news.

I got into the arts and technology school that Scout and I have been dreaming of attending since Freshman year.

My acceptance letter came in the mail this morning. I’d almost given up hope after Scout received hers back in November. Apparently, there was a glitch with my application. Better late than never, I guess.

I’m just excited for all the fun we’re going to have over the next four years, now that Scout won’t have her parents constantly breathing down her neck. You never know, I may even manage to break out of the friend zone if I’m lucky…

My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I freeze as I read the message.

Scout

I’m pulling the best friend card tonight. I need your help with something illegal, but you can’t ask me what it is or why.

You know I wouldn’t ask you if it wasn’t important…

You in?

I’ll be there in ten.

“Just up here. You can park in the alley,” Scout says, pointing to the dark, narrow alley off our small town’s cobblestone street. I’m far enough away not to draw attention to her, but close enough that she can still sprint to me if something goes south.

I know this is reckless, but this is so out of character for her.

Scout doesn’t do shit like this. She doesn’t break rules for the hell of it.

Her father is the town judge and a strict one at that.

Image is everything to her family, so I can’t imagine what must’ve happened to push Scout past her breaking point.

The question is on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t make myself ask. I clench my jaw and breathe deeply before my imagination can conjure anything too crazy. Maybe it’s better that I don’t know… If I’m going to be her getaway driver, the last thing I need is to be distracted by my blinding rage.

Right now, I’ve got to keep a cool head. Scout’s never asked me for something like this, and I’ll be damned if I let her down when she obviously needs me the most.

The black face mask sits atop her head, rolled up like a beanie, and her light brown hair hangs in a long braid down her back.

It’s not how she usually wears her hair, and I can’t seem to stop staring.

She’s so fucking pretty with those sparkling hazel eyes that look extra green tonight, and her full pink lips.

Her oversized gold-rimmed glasses only add to her innocent appearance.

Her soft, feminine features are contrasted by her baggy dark clothes—my clothes actually—because everything she owns is light or pastel colored.

I’ve already had to bite my tongue about a thousand times to keep from telling her she looks like an angry Care Bear cosplaying.

Somehow, I don’t think that’d go over too well.

As cute and harmless as she seems, the girl has a hell of a temper.

Luckily, it’s never been directed toward me, though I did witness her wrath firsthand when she blew up on my little brother, Guy, in middle school.

He wouldn’t stop teasing us, trying to get us to admit we liked each other.

I’d never heard such a creative string of swear words used together, but she managed to hit every single one of his insecurities—even gave him some new ones that he still thinks about to this day.

That was the last time he teased her, and it didn’t take long for the word to get around.

No one ever bothered us again after that.

I don’t know why, but I love that about her.

Maybe it’s because I’m the only person she trusts enough to be her true self.

I love that people underestimate her, that she’s got this fire in her belly fueling her through life.

I think passion is the hottest attribute a person can have; it doesn’t even matter what it’s for.

And Scout Sinclair has it in spades, especially when it comes to her art.

People don’t know this about her, but she’s a vicious little thing. All sweet and unassuming on the surface, but she’s got a darkness inside her. Like recognizes like.

I probably don’t know half of the secrets she keeps from me, but I know they’re there.

I can see it in the way she keeps herself so in control, the way she’s put together on the outside without a hair out of place.

From the outside, she seems so meek and polite, but her art tells a whole different story.

It’s dark and gritty and almost scary. It’s like overhearing someone grieving in another language.

I don’t have to know what’s being said to feel the pain.

It’s a vibration, an undeniable energy that evokes so many contrasting emotions you almost feel like you’ve been hit by a truck after being in a room full of her paintings.

She doesn’t let people in easily and she keeps her circle small —ie. Just me. I’m the circle… and maybe my mom too. She’s sort of adopted her into our family… unofficially, of course. We’re next door neighbors, best friends… basically family at this point.

I can only hope that one day she’ll trust me enough to fully let me in. That she’ll allow me to help her fight her demons…but until that day comes, I guess I’ll have to settle for being her getaway driver.

I can tell from her flushed cheeks and the way her nose is swollen and pink that she’s been crying.

And that’s another thing about Scout, she never cries when she’s upset—now, when she’s watching Disney movies, that’s a whole different story.

Which means that whatever has her this upset is really bad.

My fist clenches tightly around the steering wheel, and I grit my teeth to keep myself from prying.

Scout’s never been one to complain, though based on what I know about her family life, she’s got plenty of reason to.

They treat her like shit, always expecting perfection and refusing to tolerate anything less.

Sometimes I feel like she thinks she owes them something for simply existing.

I know I basically hit the parental jackpot so it’s not exactly a fair comparison, but the Sinclairs are not the nicest people.

They’ve lived next door to my family for over ten years and haven’t once attended any of my mother’s parties.

They’re too caught up in maintaining appearances at their country club in the next town over to be bothered with mingling with their neighbors—or anyone else in Ashford Falls for that matter.

Honestly, I think the only reason they’ve stayed this long is because of her dad’s high status in the community.

My thoughts are interrupted by the sound of the clinking tin can as she digs through the plastic bag sitting at her feet, and my ears perk up.

She pulls the black knit ski mask over her face, shoving the extra cans of spray paint in her cargo pockets like she’s preparing for battle.

It’s not hard to put the clues together as to what she may be up to, but I still don’t know why she’s doing it.

I open my mouth to ask her what’s going on, but she cuts me off before I can get the words out. “Keep the car running and try to lay low. I shouldn’t be more than twenty minutes.”

I suck in a breath, flaring my nostrils as I hold back the ever-growing need to ask her why she’s doing this and simply nod. “Be careful. And make sure you don’t leave any evidence or whatever. Call me if you need me.”

A silent moment passes between us as I stare into her eyes, feeling a rush of something oddly protective washing over me.

My eyes flash to her, the cutout of her mask revealing her pouty pink lips, still swollen from crying.

And when she wets her lips, I have the strangest urge to lean in and kiss her.

Everything around us seems to disappear, and time stands still. My heart pounds in my chest so hard that it vibrates off my bones, sending ripples of electricity between us. I know she feels it, too, because her pupils are dilated and her heavy breathing falls into rhythm with mine.

Maybe it’s the rush that we could get caught, or maybe it’s because I’m seeing a new side to her, wanting to hurt whoever’s behind her being this upset, but there’s definitely something happening right now.

It’s not that I’m not attracted to her; she’s the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen on the inside and out, but she’s always seemed out of reach, uninterested.

She’s made my position of being in the friend zone abundantly clear over the years, correcting anyone before they can even ask, and I’ve never questioned it.

Rather than acting on my impulses, I reach to adjust the mask around her oversized, round-framed glasses. I don’t miss the way she sucks in a sharp breath before quickly backing away.

She shakes the can of spray paint in her hand and whispers in an almost raspy voice, “Wish me luck.”

The car door slams behind her, and then she’s gone, leaving only the scent of her vanilla perfume behind.