15. Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fourteen
Reeve
Swinging my arm forward, I let the knife twirl through the air until the point wedges itself into the wooden slat of the basement wall beside the others I've already thrown.
I hear the doors above me open, and footsteps echo through the room as I flip another in my hand.
Silence fills the room, but I can feel Milo's presence behind me as I lift my arm and hurl the last knife.
It clinks against the handle of another before dropping to the floor. I huff, then move across the room to collect them all.
"She's staying," he says, watching as I pluck each blade from the wall. I rub my fingers over the multitude of notches in the wood from the years of abuse it's suffered whenever I find myself annoyed.
Holding all five knives in my hand, I go back to where I was standing, face away from my best friend, and throw them again.
He sighs and walks away from the stairs until he's at my side.
"I'm sorry for what I said."
I chuck the next one with less force than I was using before, and the muscles in my shoulders relax slightly.
"I was out of order."
Continuing to ignore him—mostly just to get under his skin—I effortlessly toss another one at the wall.
"Don't shut me out, man."
Shaking my head, I pass him the remaining knives and move to the side, letting him take my place.
"I know we shouldn't trust her, and believe me when I tell you I don't. I'm just not as worried about her as I was before," I tell him. "That doesn't mean I'm not going to continue being cautious though."
Watching as he throws the first one, I can't help but snicker when the handle hits the wall before it clatters to the floor.
"My dad seems to think we shouldn't be cautious at all."
"That'd be stupid," I mutter.
"My thoughts exactly," he says. "Pretty sure we'd be dead if we told him that though."
Chuckling, I nod.
"Yeah, I think you've pushed him enough tonight."
Slinging the next knife forward, it embeds itself into the wall, and he turns to me with a smirk on his face.
I clap slowly and he rolls his eyes, lips dropping into a frown.
"You know, I realized something when we were arguing back there."
Leaning against a stack of boxes behind me, I cross my arms and wait for him to continue.
"You admitted to being infatuated with her."
Scoffing, I snatch the last knife from his hand and blindly toss it.
"I did nothing of the sort," I tell him, stalking away as he laughs about the lie.
"I know you too well for you to lie to me!" he calls out as he follows me up the basement stairs and turns off the light.
Grabbing the chain from the floor, I close the doors and wrap it around the handles before securing the padlock in place.
"I don't blame you. She's an attractive girl," he adds, trailing after me. "Naturally beautiful, too, and that's just her face. Don't get me started on her body. The way her shorts cling to—"
I whirl around, grab the front of his shirt, then slam him against the kitchen wall with my arm pressed against his throat and my finger dangerously close to his face.
"Shut. Up."
He grins, eyes alight with joy.
Psychotic fucker is purposefully trying to rile me up.
"Did I hit a nerve, lover boy?"
Pushing away from him, I stride out of the kitchen and stomp up the stairs.
"If it helps, she seems just as interested in you," he shouts.
Mouse lifts his head from the book it's buried in, his curious eyes scanning over my face as I slump down on the sofa beside him.
He chucks me the TV remote, closes his book, then grabs his phone from the table and leaves the room.