23. Eloise
23
ELOISE
It’s hot outside today, which means it’s hot inside my house. We’ve got a few of those window A/C units, and I could hole up in Vivie’s room to cool off, but I’m just cranky enough that sitting outside and baking in the heat sounds like the best thing right now. What’s that saying? Misery loves company?
I don’t even know why I’m wallowing so much. I should’ve expected this, honestly.
It’s been five days since the second pre-qualifier, and I don’t know what I’m more disappointed about: that I didn’t receive an invite to the Gauntlet, that I haven’t heard from Beau, or with myself for being disappointed at all. I knew it was a long shot—all of it. But I forgot my cardinal rule: trust yourself first, last, and always.
So here I am, wallowing in my own pity party for one, unfit for any kind of company. Margot took one look at me and went back inside, probably wearing a sweatshirt because her room is a damn arctic tundra.
My phone vibrates on the table next to me, and my heart doesn’t even skip a beat. Even that damn organ is tired of my shit, I guess. It vibrates again, and then a third time—not the pattern of a call but three texts in a row. My money’s on Margot texting me memes, hoping to get a laugh out of me.
Without opening my eyes, I grope for my phone on the table and hold it up. Sure enough, three little bubble notifications pop up on the screen: one from Margot and two from an unknown number.
Margot: Look at these and tell me it’s not the most hilarious thing you’ve ever seen.
The attached meme is something ridiculous about a cat glaring at a watermelon with the caption: “How dare you bring this into my home?” I’d laugh if I weren’t so miserable.
Unknown Number: You’ve been accepted into the Gauntlet. Wait for further instructions.
The second message is even more cryptic.
Unknown Number: Game on
I sit up so fast my vision swims for a moment. “Holy fucking shit.” The words are a whispered hush, laced with disbelief. A stuttering sort of laugh bubbles out of me, choppy and almost hysterical. Underneath it all, there’s something else: a small, dangerous thread of hope.
I scramble into the house, letting the door slam behind me. “Margot!”
“Oh my god, what?” Margot bursts from her bedroom, her footsteps loud as she barrels down the hallway.
“Margot.” I stand in the middle of the living room, holding up my phone, trying to tamp down my excitement and remain neutral.
“Jesus, Louie, enough of the theatrics. You’re freaking me out.” She stops in front of me, balling her fists tightly and crossing her arms over her chest. “Are you okay?”
“I’m better than okay.” I nod, giving my best stoic-statue impression.
Her gaze bounces across my face, her smile growing with each second. “Oh, my god. Fuck yes, you did it. You fucking did it!” She rushes me, throwing her arms around my shoulders and jumping up and down. “You’re gonna win the fucking Gauntlet, baby!”
Her enthusiasm is infectious, and soon we’re both hugging and laughing, spinning in giddy circles in the middle of the living room. I don’t know what I love most about my sister—the list feels endless most days—but this? This is pretty damn high on that list. She’s celebrating my win like it’s her own.
Or maybe it’s the fact that I didn’t even need to spell it out for her. She just knew. Maybe we have that sibling bond after all—the kind where we can read each other without words.
She pulls back, her smile softening. “You’re going to win, Eloise. I fucking know it.”
I swallow hard, feeling the weight of her belief settle over me like a heavy cloak. “I’m going to try.”
For her, for Vivie, and maybe even a little bit for myself. I’m going to try.
“Shit, now what? You need something to drink? I’m parched after all that excitement.” She skips into the kitchen and pulls open the fridge. “Damn, sis, it’s looking bare in here. How are we gonna celebrate without provisions?” She clicks her tongue in mock disapproval.
“Yeah.” I sigh, leaning against the doorframe. “I’ll stop at the grocery store later. Text me a list of whatever you need. I’ve gotta check in with Nate at the garage, anyway.”
She grabs one of those fake sodas I keep for Vivie and pauses with her hand on the tab. “Does he know yet?”
What she really means is: Did you tell Nate before you told me?
I can’t help but laugh. “Nah, I told you I’d tell you first.”
“Yeah, well, it’s hard competing with someone who looks like that.” She fans herself dramatically, smirking.
I arch a brow, tilting my head. “You sure there’s nothing going on between you two?”
She pops the tab on her drink and takes a long sip, then gives me a deadpan glare. “You sure there’s nothing going on between you two?”
I roll my eyes and shake my head. “No. I told you this like a million times. We’re just friends.”
“Mm-hmm.” She leans against the counter, her grin teasing. “Does he know that?”
“Of course he does.” My voice sounds defensive even to my own ears, and Margot picks up on it instantly. Her smirk widens.
She plants her elbows on the counter, leaning forward conspiratorially. “You know what might help send that message? Oh, I don’t know—dating someone. Literally anyone.”
Like a dam bursting, an image of Beau flashes in my mind. His hands on me, his lips teasing mine, the way he made me come apart like I’d never been touched before. My body heats all over again, and I feel my chest grow tight.
Goddamn those talented, magical fingers. It really makes a girl wonder what other kinds of magical things he can do.
“Oh my god,” Margot gasps, her eyes lighting up like a kid at Christmas. “You are fucking someone!”
“What? I am not!” I snap, rolling my shoulders back and straightening to my full height like it’ll somehow make me look less guilty.
“Yes, you definitely are!” She points her can at me, grinning like she’s uncovered the world’s greatest secret. “You’re like the color of that tomato right there.” She gestures toward the sad little tomatoes in the fruit basket on the counter.
“Don’t overthink it, sis. I’m a little sunburn. I was outside for two hours.”
“Uh-huh. Sure.” Her voice is dripping with sarcasm. Her gaze roams over me, as if she can uncover my secrets if she only looks hard enough. She hums under her breath. “If you say so.”
My phone buzzes in my hand, and I glance at it—saved by the freaking text.
Nate: I’ve got a job for you. Come to the garage sometime today and I’ll give you the details
“Hello?” my sister says, dragging out the word.
“Hm?” I pull my gaze from the text and look at my sister’s expectant face.
“I said, before you run off to do Seven Pines’ bidding, tell me what happens with the Gauntlet now.”
I slip my phone into the back pocket of my jean shorts. “Oh, I don’t know. It was a super vague text just saying I’m invited and more details will come.”
“Huh. Well, that’s kind of anticlimactic, don’t you think?”
I shrug. “I didn’t know what to expect, so I’m just trying to stay flexible.”
Margot sputters a laugh, smothering it with her hand when I glare at her. “Sorry, it’s just, you and flexible don’t exactly go hand in hand, you know?”
“New year, new me,” I quip.
“Bro, it’s October.” She snorts. “What the hell have you been doing all year that you’re just now starting a resolution?”
I can’t help but laugh as I grab my keys from the table. “Holding out for a witty sibling like you.”
Margot grins, tipping her can toward me like a toast. “Damn straight.”
I snag my keys off the front table and slide into my car. It’s hot as hell, the sun baking down on the dark interior like a fucking convection oven. The leather seats scorch the backs of my thighs, but I grit my teeth and sit as far back on my ass as possible.
I made fun of Nate last winter for installing seat coolers instead of warmers. It felt like such a waste of money at the time, but fine—I fucking get it now. I don’t even know why I’m in such a rush. Maybe it’s all the adrenaline still pumping through my veins, making my blood run hot. If I were a runner or any kind of athlete, I’d probably go for a jog or hit the gym. But I’m not, so here I am.
I shoot Nate a quick text, telling him I’ll swing by soon.
Ten minutes later, I pull up to the Seven Pines Garage. Located on the edge of the neighborhood where the subdivision lets out to a main road, the garage is Seven Pines' unofficial headquarters. It’s not exclusive to the crew, technically, but Nate once told me that his cousin Levi handles more than just oil changes here.
I do my best to avoid the garage when Levi’s around. Nothing’s ever happened exactly, but he gives off the kind of vibe that makes your skin itch. That barely contained aggression, like a dog waiting for an excuse to bite.
I park in one of the five spaces next to the office, click the locks, and jog toward the building. The garage has four bays, all of them open, and three cars in various states of repair inside. Loud rock music spills into the warm air, competing with the metallic clang of tools and the occasional hiss of a drill.
I glance around, but I don’t see Nate’s recognizable frame. He must be inside the office. The thought barely crosses my mind before a wave of cold air blasts me as I pull open the glass door.
“Don’t let the damn air out!” a voice barks.
I wince, reaching back to close the door quickly. “Sorry.”
“Shit, girl. Thought he taught you better than that.”
I blink a few times, letting my eyes adjust to the dim interior. Levi Thomas sits behind a desk strewn with papers, a laptop glowing faintly in the corner. His eyes narrow as he takes me in.
“Oh, sorry. I was just looking for Nate.”
“Mm-hmm. Bet you were.” His tone is lazy, but there’s something sharp underneath it.
I hesitate. “I thought he might be in here, but I’ll check the garage?—”
“Nah, he went to run an errand for me. I know you like him to give it to you, but I’ll handle it this time.”
“Sure thing.” I force myself to stand still as his gaze roams over me. It’s not overtly malicious, but it’s invasive—like he’s cataloging every inch of me for later. The kind of look that makes you want to crawl out of your own skin.
He leans over, unlocking a drawer with a key. The metallic click echoes in the quiet office as he pulls out a burner phone. He holds it out to me, and I cross the room to take it. My fingers wrap around the bottom, careful not to touch his hand, but his free hand lashes out and clamps around my wrist.
“Just so we’re clear,” he murmurs, his breath a rancid mix of stale coffee and cigarettes. “If you’re Seven Pines, you work for me, girlie. Not my little cousin. Got it?”
I try not to flinch or inhale, nodding as calmly as I can. “Crystal.”
“Good.” He releases me slowly, one finger at a time, like he’s savoring the moment.
I straighten up and take several steps back, my shoulders brushing the door. He doesn’t stop watching me, his lips curling into something that’s not quite a smile.
“You’ll get a text with the coordinates,” he says, still holding my gaze. “But I’ll tell you right now—it’s in Rosewood.”
The town over? I mask my surprise with a neutral nod. “No problem.”
“Can’t have our star driver too far from home, can we?”
This time, I’m not quick enough to hide the flicker of shock on my face, and he sees it. His grin widens.
“Ah,” he tsks, shaking his head. “You didn’t think I didn’t know, did you?”
“To be honest, it was all a surprise to me.”
He pauses, letting the weight of his words settle. “I hope your sister doesn’t talk too much about the things you do for Seven Pines. We wouldn’t want to have a problem, now, would we?”
It’s a threat, plain and simple. My fingers curl tightly around the burner phone as the air in the room grows heavier, thick with unspoken menace.
“Got it,” I say, my voice clipped but steady.
I don’t wait for him to respond. Turning on my heel, I push out of the office and back into the heat of the day. The warm air wraps around me like a smothering blanket, but I welcome it after the chill of Levi’s presence.
I’ve gotta get the hell out of Seven Pines.