Chapter 24
Elle’s house is even bigger than I remembered. I’ve only been here once before, the night I dropped her off after she let me borrow her car to pick up Cormac.
In the daylight, the place is huge. And intimidating. Covered by shingles painted an unblemished, blinding white, a stone chimney and an ivy trellis the only spots of color.
Gravel crunches as I walk toward the front door, skirting the enormous granite fountain that looks like it belongs to a European castle.
“Can I help you?”
A man has appeared around the left side of the house. He’s tall, over six feet. Almost as tall as me. Dressed in a golf outfit with a full head of gray hair that’s neatly combed.
“I’m looking for Elle,” I tell him.
His forehead wrinkles slightly before it smooths. “You’re trespassing on private property.”
“I’m just here to talk to your daughter for a few minutes.”
He crosses his arms. “Elodie isn’t home.”
“Do you know when she will be?”
“Yes.” No elaboration.
I wasn’t expecting Elle’s parents to like me. But it still kinda sucks, staring at her dad and realizing he’s already decided how he feels about me. That he’ll warn Elle away from me and tell her how much better she can do.
“Can you let her know I stopped by, please?”
“I don’t even know your name.”
I step forward and hold out a hand. “Ryder James, sir.”
Mr. Clarke studies me for a good minute before finally shaking my offered hand. “I don’t recognize the name.”
I don’t miss his double meaning.
He’s trying to make me second-guess Elle’s feelings. I must not matter, he’s saying, because she’s never bothered to mention me.
It’s also a dig at my address. Everyone who matters, he knows. He’s correctly assuming I didn’t walk here from one of the mansions down the street.
“I just moved to town.”
“From where?”
“Jacksonville.”
“Well, welcome to Fernwood.” Some of the sternness has left his expression. It’s more like he doesn’t know what to make of me now, not that he’s debating chasing me off with a shotgun.
“Welcome back. I lived here once before.”
“Did you trespass on my property then too?”
I almost smile, catching myself just in time. “No, I didn’t, Mr. Clarke.”
“You’re interested in my daughter, Ryder?”
“I’m in love with her, sir.”
He digests that information silently, looking me up and down. “And how does Elodie feel about you?”
Talk about a loaded question.
“She wouldn’t call me being here trespassing.”
Maybe I’m imagining it, but Mr. Clarke looks a little more amused than he did when I first showed up.
“I’ll let her know you stopped by,” he tells me.
It’s a clear dismissal, one I should heed. Elle isn’t here. I’m worried about her after what happened with Archer last night. She insisted she was fine. That doesn’t make me any less worried. But since she isn’t answering her phone and isn’t here, I’m out of options to reach her.
Before I turn to leave, I glance at the basketball hoop by the garage that’s twice the size of the trailer I live in. “You play?”
Elle’s father follows my gaze. “Not often.”
“My dad played football with me a few times when I was a kid. Those are some of my favorite childhood memories.”
Mr. Clarke’s eyebrows bunch together as he stares at me.
He’s a smart man. He’s figured out that Elle told me her dad used to play basketball with her, and he’s trying to decide why I’m mentioning it.
“She’s a lot more than a report card, sir.”
Then, I turn and walk away.
I’m about to leave the garage when my phone vibrates in my pocket. I grab it out, hoping it’s Elle. She finally texted me back a few hours ago, letting me know she was fine and at a brunch with her mom earlier. She didn’t mention me stopping by her house, and I’m not sure if that’s a good or bad sign. What her dad told her. If he told her anything.
It’s not Elle calling. It’s an unknown number, but a 617 area code.
“Hello?” I answer.
“Ryder, it’s me.”
I exhale. “Why are you calling me from some random phone, Cormac?” Again, I tack on silently.
“I, uh, I’m at a party. Can you come pick me up?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose, squeezing my eyes shut. “You’re at a party? That’d better be code for playing video games at Mav’s house.”
“I’m sorry, okay? They all wanted to go. What was I supposed to say?”
“No! You say no, Cormac.”
He’s silent for a minute. There are muffled sounds in the background. Nothing distinguishable, but enough to tell me the party isn’t a small one.
Finally, “Mom’s at work.”
I know she’s at work. She’s a night owl who always takes late shifts when they’re an option. And I know Cormac would probably call her over me if it was a choice because she’d simply tell him to make smarter decisions and that would be the end of it.
“Where are you?” I ask. “What’s the address?”
“Thirty-two Maple Avenue.”
“You’re at a One party?”
Maple Avenue is on the opposite side of town. A couple of blocks from where Elle lives.
“I just—we wanted to see what it was like.”
I blow out a long breath. “I’m at work, and I rode my bike here. I’m going to have to call Tuck, see if I can borrow his truck to come get you. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“Okay.” Cormac’s voice is calm and contrite.
I hang up, then immediately call Tucker. He doesn’t answer. I kick the tire of the car I was working on. “Fuck!”
“What’s wrong?”
I turn. Phoenix is walking toward me, wiping his hands on a rag.
“My little brother … he’s at a party on Maple. I have to go get him, and I don’t have a car.”
A One party. A high school party.
I’m going to kill him. He just turned thirteen. What the hell was he thinking?
“That’s where I’m headed,” Phoenix tells me. “Want a ride?”
My head snaps in his direction. “Really?”
“Yeah, Cruz and Zane just got here. We’re about to leave.”
They’re going to sell at this party, I realize. My anger at Cormac mounts.
“A ride would be great,” I say.
I’ll try Tuck again once I have Cormac to see if he can drive us home. Worst-case scenario: I could call Elle for a ride. But I really don’t want to bother her with this. In her texts earlier, she mentioned she isn’t going out tonight because of an early morning. She’s going to tour Dartmouth.
“Come on.” Phoenix heads for the door.
I close the hood of the car I was working on, then follow him.
Cruz is in the driver’s seat of the same car I rode in before, smoking.
“Picked up a stray,” Nix says, sliding in the back seat.
“Hey, guys,” I say, shutting the door.
“James,” Cruz greets.
Zane just nods. He never says much.
I drum my fingers against the door impatiently as Cruz zips through town ten miles over the speed limit.
Phoenix makes a disgusted grunt in the back of his throat as we roll into the richest part of town. The difference is immediate and obvious. The houses get bigger. The lawns greener. The sidewalks wider. The cars, parked in driveways lined with trimmed hedges, are sleek and shiny.
I feel the same resentment shown in Zane’s curled fists and Cruz’s sneer. These houses are fifteen minutes from where we all live, yet their lives are totally different from ours. It’s hard not to take that personally.
I spot the crowd of cars before the 32 that marks our destination. Cruz parks on the street since the driveway is about five vehicles too full.
“If I lived in this place, I’d bitch a lot less than Hathaway does,” Phoenix comments as we cross the street.
“This is Hathaway’s house?” I ask.
“Yep.” He pops the P. “Ridiculous, right?”
I’m busy mulling over my shitty luck. Hathaway is the last person I feel like seeing right now. I promised Elle I wouldn’t do anything. That promise is going to be a lot harder to keep if I run into the guy.
So, of course, he’s in the front yard with a few of his football buddies. They’re crushing empty beer cans with a baseball bat.
Hathaway is the first one to spot us. His eyes slide over the rest of the guys, then land on me.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Archer walks toward us, swaying a little. He’s wasted. “You three can go in.” He points to Zane, Cruz, and Phoenix. “He isn’t allowed inside.” Archer’s refocused on me.
“I’m not here to sell,” I tell him. “Just to get my brother.”
“I don’t give a shit what you’re here for, James. You’re not getting it. You shouldn’t have crossed me.”
“Crossed you?” I repeat incredulously. “What the hell are you talking about? I’ve done nothing to you, Hathaway.”
“You think the team decided you were a great option for quarterback by themselves?”
“I think they took one look at your stats and decided.”
Archer glares at me, the hatred rolling off of him in palpable waves. “You’re a fucking game to her, you know. This is what Elle does. She gets bored. She teases. She’s just using you to make me jealous.”
I take a few steps closer until I’m right up in his face. “Don’t you dare say her name, you piece of shit.”
“Hit a sore spot, huh? Did she already dump you?”
“She told me what happened last night.”
There’s a flicker on Archer’s face. Just a flash of guilt, but enough to tell me he knows exactly what I’m talking about. He might be wasted, but not drunk enough to forget.
“And the only reason your face isn’t a bloody, bruised mess right now is because she asked me not to hurt you. The girl you fucking assaulted last night saved your ass. Does that make you feel like a man, Hathaway?”
“You’re wasting your time dating her,” he spits. “Elle won’t put out.”
I swing without consciously deciding to, the crunch of my knuckles connecting with his cheekbone one of the most satisfying sounds I’ve ever heard. Hathaway doubles over like I socked him in the stomach instead of punching him in the face.
“I told you not to say her name.”
When Archer manages to straighten, blood is already dripping down his cheek from a split that will probably scar. He’ll likely have a black eye too.
My stomach twists. Fuck. I don’t regret punching Hathaway, but it was definitely a dumb thing to do.
“Get the fuck off my property,” he snarls. “I’m five seconds from calling the cops.”
Hathaway is no longer the only guy glaring at me. Zane, Cruz, and Phoenix all look pissed. They are here to sell. If Archer calls the cops to his own house—a stupid thing to do, considering it’s filled with drunk teenagers, but he’s obviously not in a logical mood—they won’t be able to. Not to mention, Cormac could get in trouble for being here.
Cruz steps forward. “Look, man, I don’t have any beef with you. Your guests are expecting us. We’ll be in and out in twenty minutes.”
Blood is dripping off Archer’s jaw, landing on his shirt. It’s a grisly sight. He looks at me, then glances at Cruz. Drains the contents of the cup he’s holding. “Just you.”
“I can sell more if?—”
“You can never sell at one of my parties again, asshole. I can make sure you never sell at any party in this town again.”
Phoenix looks nervously at his brother.
“Fine.” Cruz tosses the keys to Zane. “Wait in the car.”
Archer scoffs, casts one last murderous glower my way, then heads inside. His friends follow.
“Cruz—” I start.
“You do not want to talk to me right now, James. You have no fucking clue the mess you just made.”
“He’s a senior,” I remind him. “He’ll be off at some fancy university next year.”
“He has connections. If he wants to make it hard for me, he can. He will.”
I swallow. “I’m sorry.”
“And over some One?” Cruz shakes his head. “He’s right; she’ll dump you soon.”
I’m in no position to argue, so I don’t. “Cormac is in there. He’s thirteen, man. Too young for all this.”
Cruz is silent for a few seconds. “I’ll grab him, okay?”
Relief spreads through me. “Thank you.”
Cruz continues into the huge house. Phoenix, Zane, and I head back to the car.
Phoenix says nothing. He’s either mad or resigned to the direction this night has taken. Zane sticks with silence too.
I stare into space, glancing toward the house every few minutes and hoping Cormac will appear. If Cruz doesn’t come out with him, I’ll have no choice but to go inside myself.
Twenty-five minutes later, Cruz walks outside. I exhale, relieved, when I see Cormac is right behind him.
“Thanks,” I tell Cruz.
He nods once before opening the car door.
I squeeze Cormac’s shoulder before he climbs into the middle. His eyes are wide—from excitement or apprehension or maybe both.
Loud rap music shakes the car the whole drive back to our part of town. No one talks. Phoenix fiddles with his phone.
When Cruz stops in front of my trailer, Phoenix climbs out with me and Cormac. Cruz takes off without waiting for his brother.
“Head in,” I tell Cormac. “I’ll be right inside.”
He’s remorseful enough to do it without arguing—for once.
As soon as the trailer door bangs shut behind him, I glance at Nix. “What is it?”
“You caused a lot of problems tonight. We did you a favor, giving you a ride, and all you did was fuck shit up.”
“And?”
“We’re square, Ryder. Hathaway had it coming.”
I relax.
“You and I are square, I mean. Cruz … he holds grudges.”
“He sold,” I say.
“Not as much as he would have if all three of us had gone in. And if Hathaway decides to follow through on any threats …”
“He can sell elsewhere.”
“This is the richest town in the state,” Nix tells me. “It’s why we moved here. How Cruz keeps the guys he works for happy.”
“So …”
“So, you owe him a favor. Cruz has a shipment coming on Monday. He has other places to be, and I’m risking a suspension if I have any more absences at school. I just texted them your address.”
“You did what?”
“Relax. They’ll drop off around ten. All you have to do is hold on to it until Cruz grabs it around lunchtime. Just stay home sick and watch TV.”
My jaw works. I’m pissed—at Hathaway, for obvious reasons. At Cruz and Phoenix, for getting me involved in their shady shit. At myself, for making this mess.
“Fine.”
Nix claps my shoulder. “Awesome. Talk soon.” He starts walking toward his trailer. “Nice right hook, by the way,” he calls over one shoulder.
I stare after him, still pissed.