8. Montana
8
Montana
A busy day lies ahead of me. I’m heading into the school for my first official meeting with Conductor Hopkins, and I can’t stand that this is the moment when Wesley suddenly decides he has time for me. It makes me irate when he does this. Just pops up when he can. I hate surprises to the core of who I am.
Now I’m waiting for him at the door after he texted that he was on his way to the house to bring me my favorite Caramel Mocha latte. I want to tell him to piss off after yesterday, but I can’t say no to good coffee, especially with the never-ending to-do list I keep accumulating.
“Baby,” he says with a smile when he sees me, holding a tray of coffees and a little baggie along with it.
I usher him through the house and into my room, away from the communal spaces and from the possibility of seeing any of my new roommates. Luckily, Shane retreated to his room after yesterday’s shower incident, and I’ve yet to see the other two emerge from their caves into the morning light. They all thrive at night, making this house ghost-like most of the time.
Wes sets the tray on my dresser and does a quick sweep of my new room.
“It’s nice,” he says, forcing a smile. “Yeah?”
“It works.” I shrug.
“And your stepbrother? Croix?” He pauses, his smile dropping and his shoulders taut with tension. “I'm kindly assuming he and the other guys are staying out of your way?”
I sigh, running my fingers through my semi-dry locks, still working out the knots, wondering how to answer that.
“If I’d known it was him—” He stalls and takes a step forward, his hands finding my upper arms. They slowly slide up to my shoulders, his thumbs rubbing soft circles on my neck. “If you’re scared, or he tries to fuck with you or your stuff…I swear to God, Montana,” He raises his eyebrows, nodding once as if insinuating he’ll take care of it for me.
However, I don’t think Wesley or anyone could handle the chaos that is Croix.
“Why would you think he’d fuck with my stuff? Am I supposed to be afraid of him?” I question. “What makes you say that?”
Wesley has lived in this town as long as Shane and the other guys have. The rumors circulating the school are far better known to him than fresh blood like me, and when he found out “Croix” was the stepbrother I was moving in with, his excitement about me living close to campus changed drastically.
“Because…of what he’s known for. Because of why he got in trouble. Yes, he was arrested for possession and attempt to sell, but what they aren’t broadcasting is the reason he was expelled.”
My brows knit together, and I swallow thickly, not even realizing Shane had been enrolled at the school—or that he wasn’t anymore.
“Which was…?”
“He attacked Mr. Leroy, the Calculus professor. They shared words in class one day before things got physical. Fists were thrown, desks destroyed, until Croix tackled him. He stabbed him repeatedly in the neck with a pencil. Blood was spurting everywhere. Croix was covered in it, smiling as he stood over him.” He shakes his head, still perturbed at the thought. “Alan Leroy was lifeless when the paramedics finally arrived. He nearly killed him.”
“What?” The whispered word barely leaves my throat. Panic clenches my insides as the realization of who this man is comes to light. I don’t want to believe it. “That can’t be true. How was he not arrested for battery?”
“Mr. Leroy dropped all charges once he finally healed. They expelled him in exchange. He’s not allowed anywhere near the school.”
I shake my head. “But why would he drop the charges? If it was as alarming as you say, how could they ever just let him go?”
His mouth opens as if he wants to say more but doesn’t.
“They say he just lost it over some chick that had it bad for Mr. Leroy. Rumors were Shane was losing it—his mind and his girl—assuming Mr. Leroy would actually have relations with a minor. Seems ludicrous. I’m not really sure.”
“Does this chick happen to have a blue streak through her hair? Loves to use the word cunt a lot?”
“No, it wasn’t his ex, Lana.” He laughs lightly. “She’s a townie, druggie, just like the rest of them.”
“I know that,” I say before stopping myself. “I mean…I assumed as much.”
“No idea who the girl in question was, just that Croix was obsessed with her to the point of going off the rails,” Wesley continues without missing a beat. “To the point of mutilating Mr. Leroy’s neck out of pure jealousy. No one knows for sure.”
And my father set me up to live with this guy.
“There were even rumors that he was tied to the Macrae Mansion murder. Rumors that they arrested the wrong man for the brutal slaying of Gabriella Marxon. That maybe she was the girl he secretly pined after.”
My chest seizes.
“Why would they assume that?”
“Because of his violent nature. And the fact that there were rumors of a relationship between the two of them behind his best friend's back. Old written notes were found in his backpack when he was detained, detailing his obsession with a dark-haired beauty.”
Thunderous beats pulse in my head.
“He can't be a murderer,” I scoff, playing it off. “There's no way.”
“I'm just letting you know what the rest of us already do.”
I swallow, peering at my computer. There's no way.
“He knows to stay in line, though. He won’t fuck with you. You’re safe with me, Montana.” His hands slide further up my shoulders and gently surround my neck, his eyes bouncing between mine. “And the team. You know that, right? You’re always safe.”
I almost want to laugh. Wesley has no idea the depths of what I’ve been through or what constitutes as safe in my eyes. Safe isn’t a word I’m even familiar with. I can make it out of anything alive on my own. A bit broken, maybe, but definitely alive.
His nose trails along mine before his lips part, and his mouth finds mine. His kisses are tender, his hands slowly trailing down my body. Before I know it, my back is on the bed, and his belt is being stripped from his pants. My thighs part as he sheathes himself and enters me.
“I missed you,” he breathes between kisses.
One thing I adore about Wes is the way he kisses me. I’ve trained him to use his tongue the way I like. It’s slow and steady while our bodies are hurried and rushed, needing the connection as fast as we can get it.
He fills me, swift and hard, pushing me back up against the small wooden headboard. A moan escapes me, and he smiles against my lips.
“Did you miss me?” he questions.
I nod, gripping the hair at his nape, the swirl of sensations in the base of my belly tightening with every fast stroke of his hard cock.
My mind slips to Shane in the room next to us, and I imagine him listening. Warm fluid leaks from me around Wesley.
“Fuck, baby, you’re so wet,” he remarks, looking down at the place we connect.
Leaking thoughts slowly drown me as I remember how I woke up yesterday morning, wet from some lust-filled dream. Thoughts of the way Shane’s demonic eyes bore into me like a man possessed when we were on camera, his thick, curved cock filling me with an aching pain I can’t forget. My inner thighs saturate with my slick arousal. I'm so close.
My boyfriend would hate me if he knew who I really was.
My mind fucks with me, and I come back from the edge of orgasm, but not before my boyfriend reaches it.
Wesley braces himself above me, hanging his head and breathless after he finishes, with a faint smile lingering on his lips. He kisses me sweetly and tenderly before he disposes of the condom, and my eyes find the clock.
“Shit, Wes.” I stand, readjusting my pleated skirt before running my hands down the back of my hair and tying it back with a simple bow. “I have to get going if I’m going to catch the bus before the meeting with your father.”
I gather my things as Wesley grabs my cello case for me. He pauses at my door, turning to face me with a serene smile. Brushing some loose tendrils back behind my ear, he licks his lips. “You’re going to do amazing, Montana. He’s going to love you.”
That word again. It’s funny how he assumes his father will love me, yet we’ve been together nearly seven months and I’ve yet to hear the word fall from his lips.
But it’s okay.
It’s okay because Chief Conductor Hopkins does love me.
He’s expressed it often, he just doesn't know it.
But I’m about to remind him how much that love is worth.