Chapter Three
Cal
Two weeks later…
“G o home, Calvin.”
I flinch and crack my eyes open. “Nah, I’m good.”
Trey’s grandma, Rose, shakes her head at me. She knows I’m not going anywhere. I’ve planted my ass in his hospital room for weeks, ever since they pulled him out of ICU. He’s since been moved to a long-term care unit.
I know my man, though. He’s going to pull through.
“You heard the doctor,” she reminds me. “Trey probably won’t ever wake up.”
I grit my teeth, annoyed she’d even say that in his presence. “He’ll wake up.”
“Cal—”
“He’s going to wake up,” I grit out. “He has to.”
I scrub my palm over my face, hating the grief that threatens to consume me. I refuse to accept him as gone. He’s still right fucking here. We had plans. Just like we did when we terrorized Miss Lennon’s class when we were five. It’s us against the world. The original Hornets. When Roan and Jordy entered the picture, we’d already established ourselves as the town’s little shitheads. They just enhanced it. Made us more obnoxious and unruly because we became a pack. Yet though we are four Hornets, we’ve always been divided down the middle. Me and Trey. Jordy and Roan.
Jordy still has Roan.
My other half is hooked to a bunch of fucking machines, probably braindead.
Rose walks over to me and rubs at the back of my neck in that grandmotherly way that calms me the hell down. “You need rest, son. Don’t make me call your momma and daddy to come do my dirty work.”
I groan, knowing she’s won this battle. Mom’s been worried about me and Dad’s ready for me to just get over it. I can’t get over it. I can’t move on. He’s alive. Right here. I just have to help him remember to come back to me.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out to see a text from Roan.
Roan: Hollis is cooking spaghetti. Sebban’s favorite. Want to come over?
Me: Will Jordy be there?
Roan: Nah, he’s a pussy now. Roux has him holed up playing daddy.
Me: She’s barely pregnant. What could he possibly do right now?
Roan: Fuck if I know. Building cribs and shit. Whatever it is, she has his ass home and in bed by ten.
I smirk. Trey would love the hell out of seeing badass Jordy being pussywhipped by Little Hornet. I’m glad, though, that he’s not going to be there. I love the guy, but something about having the three of us without Trey feels off. I can deal with just Roan right now. Not Roan and Jordy and me without Trey.
Me: Did Rose put you up to this?
Roan: You know that old lady scares me lol.
Said old lady smacks me upside my head for his words.
“Ow,” I grumble. “He said it. Not me.”
“You laughed, boy.”
I bite back another chuckle because I totally did and deserved it.
Me: She’s not old. She’s beautiful and an amazing cook.
Roan: She’s reading our texts…shit. Love ya, Grandma Rose.
Me: Ass kisser.
Roan: Yeah, yeah. Just get your ass over here. Pick up a gallon of milk on your way for your nephew. See you in twenty.
I still can’t believe Roan has a kid.
Fucking Sidney.
A shame she died, too. Sidney was annoying and all up on our nuts when we were teenagers, but she wasn’t a bad person. The girl did so much better when she started seeing the nerd. We have Baby Hornet now and Roan’s a damn dad, so some good came out of all that. He’s pretty happy to have a kid.
“I guess I’ll go check on that asshole,” I tell Rose as I stand.
At nearly six-five, I tower over Trey’s grandma. She’s still meaner than a snake and always has the upper hand, even being as shrimpy as she is.
“Call me if he wakes up,” I remind her for the millionth time.
She purses her wrinkled lips together. “You’ll be the first one.”
We hug and then I stride out of there, my head down and my thoughts slowly unraveling. When I’m not aching from loss, I’m pissed. It’s hard to be angry when I hear the hiss-woosh of the breathing machine keeping him alive. But the second I leave, it all comes bubbling up like an inferno of hate.
She did this to him.
Charlotte fucking English.
It’s no secret we all hate the Cuntinghams, so it was a shock when Charlotte got involved with that asshole Ryan. Still, we didn’t think it was that big of a deal. The arrogant dick would get bored of her after a while and move on.
He didn’t.
Instead, he turned her into one of them.
Druggie dickheads who think they’re above the law.
That girl got wasted on drugs and drove headfirst into my best fucking friend. She nearly killed him. Hell, he may still die because of her. If she wasn’t Roan’s sister-in-law, I would’ve already paid her a little visit to let her know just what I think of her.
But the bitch is tied to one of the Hornets, which means I have to tread carefully.
At one time, I thought she was cool like Hollis. Hot as fuck too. She was kind of like Roux in the aspect that she was an honorary Hornet. We let her hang, but she was untouchable.
Not now.
She fucked that up when she decided to get behind the wheel blasted out of her mind. Charlotte carelessly took someone away from me who is my brother in every way but blood. I was happy as fuck to learn that her daddy picked up the medical bills for Trey. If he’s not going to wake up, I hope he bleeds them dry. Maybe the rotten princess will learn from her terrible mistake.
I’m boiling over with anger toward the beautiful, spoiled blonde by the time I make my way to my truck. T and I were supposed to be having the time of our lives right now. Instead, I’ve been tied to his bed, praying like fuck for him to wake up. By the time I hop in my lifted black GMC Sierra truck and turn over the engine, I’m furious. I peel out of the hospital parking lot, not caring that I’m leaving burnout tire strips on the asphalt. Bypassing the stop sign, I blow out of there toward Roan’s, turning the music on loud to drown out all my inner noise.
Lights.
Red and blue.
Fuck.
Annoyed, I let out a growl and pull over. I’m no stranger to the cops of Horn River. Hell, my dad knows them probably better than me for how many shit storms he had to come to my rescue on. David Hutton’s used to bailing his only son out and is pretty damn good at it. I wonder which lucky bastard will have the pleasure of meeting Dad’s wrath today.
As soon as my eyes meet Michael Cunningham’s approaching form, I curse. Of course it’d have to be this asshole—the father of the motherfucker who is no doubt just as responsible for Trey’s accident as Charlotte is. Michael is one of those older guys who thinks because he wears a badge and stays fit, the town fucking worships him like he’s a god. I hate him and Ryan. Tyler, his oldest son, is okay, but since he’s gay, their all-American douchebag family has pretty much excommunicated him anyway.
Just to be a dick, I wait until he has to tap on my window before I roll it down. I smirk down at him. My forty-inch tires have him looking up at me, pissed that I literally have the upper hand right now.
“Officer Cuntingham.”
Not rising to the bait, he steps on the running board to bring himself into my window so I can smell the onions he had at lunch.
“Calvin fucking Hutton.” He makes a chiding clucking sound with his tongue. “You ran a stop sign and were speeding. Where are you off to in such a hurry?”
“To see Tyler,” I taunt, running my tongue over my lower lip in a suggestive way. “We go way back.” I wink at him for good measure.
His face turns purple immediately. It’s good to know his gay son is still a thorn in his side. I’ve got nothing against gays—because Roan’s as gay as they come and I love him to death—but Officer Douchebag doesn’t know that. Tyler hit on me plenty of times, none of which I played back, so it’s not totally unheard of or farfetched.
“I ought to haul your smart ass in,” he growls.
“You could,” I throw back at him. “I’m sure Dad misses your ugly mug.”
His lip curls up. My dad’s good to those he loves, but to everyone else, he’s a big fucking nightmare of an asshole. Six and a half feet of pure dickhead material.
“Nah,” he says, shaking his head. “I’d rather fuck you—”
“You’d rather fuck me?”
“With a big ass ticket,” he finishes on a growl.
“Oh,” I mutter, feigning disappointment. “And here I thought you were a dirty cop.”
He jumps off the running board, cursing before storming back to his cruiser. I text Roan while I wait for Officer Cuntface to write me a ticket.
Me: Tell your husband to tell his boyfriend to tell his dad to get off my nuts.
Roan: Fuck you. Tyler is not Hollis’s boyfriend.
Me: It’d be super convenient if he was though. Cuntingham pulled me over.
Roan: Do I need to bail you out?
Me: He’d rather metaphorically fuck me with a ticket. I think he secretly wants to suck my dick but I told him that was more your gig.
Roan: You’re such an asshole.
Before I can reply with some witty comeback, Officer Onion Breath is back. He tosses the crinkled ticket into my vehicle. Doesn’t ask for license or registration. Probably has that shit saved on his phone from all the other times he’s pulled me over.
“You fly through here again and I’ll bust your ass. I don’t care what your dad threatens,” he warns, his jaw clenching.
“I’ll be a perfect angel,” I deadpan.
He stalks away, not bothering to respond. I wait until he’s peeling away before I put the truck in drive. It’s tempting not to catch up to him and pass him just to be a dick, but I refrain. I’m not in the mood to get hauled in and then listen to Dad’s lecture later.
Within fifteen minutes, after a quick stop to grab milk, I arrive at Roan’s, parking next to Hollis’s purple Mustang that he’s had since high school. Hollis and Sebban are crouched beneath the stairs looking at something. I shut the truck door and walk over to them.
“If you’re playing hide and seek, I can see you,” I tell Hollis.
He discreetly flips me off. “We’re looking for worms.”
“Why?”
“Worm!” Sebban screeches, crawling forward. He picks up a worm, squeezing it until he severs the damn thing.
“Gross. Remind me never to have kids.”
Hollis laughs. “We were supposed to catch one to look at, not kill it.”
“Worm’s dead,” Sebban says, making a face that reminds me of his mother when I’d say something particularly offensive back in the day. Makes me feel like shit, too.
I ruffle his dark hair. “Yeah, worms die sometimes, kid.” Like moms.
“Hollis,” Roan calls out from upstairs. “The oven timer’s going off.”
Hollis scoops up Sebban. “Let’s go eat, buddy.”
As we walk up the stairs, Hollis glances over his shoulder at me. He has this intense way of looking inside you and seeing shit. Probably how he broke down Roan’s walls and got inside.
“You okay?”
Nah, your sister nearly killed T. Not fucking okay, man.
“Yep,” I lie.
His lips press into a frown. It’s not like I’m going to make waves with Hollis. He wasn’t the one who got behind the wheel. “How is he? Any change?”
“Nope.”
We walk inside and are met with a mouthwatering garlicky aroma. I’d gone straight up to the hospital this morning—like every morning—and only had coffee, a bag of chips from the vending machine, and a peppermint Rose fished out of the bottom of her purse. I’m fucking starving.
Hollis takes Sebban into the kitchen so they can wash their hands. Roan pulls the garlic bread out of the oven, his back to me. For a moment, I watch the three of them. Already so domestic. Like they were born for this life. It makes me realize how different Trey and I are from Roan and Jordy. Once again. Roan’s got his shit together being married and fighting fires and being a damn daddy. Jordy’s playing catch-up like it’s his job.
But me and T?
We’ve been partying it up and getting laid, knowing that once we graduated a couple of weeks ago, we’d have to finally start being adults.
Now everything feels on pause.
“You made a lot,” I observe as I stick the milk in the fridge. I walk up to Roan and peer over his shoulder. “I don’t eat that much.”
He shrugs, not meeting my eyes. “The girls are coming over too.”
I frown and dart my gaze over to Hollis, who also won’t look at me.
“Which girls?”
A long pause and then the sound of the front door opening.
“What exactly are you compensating for, Cal?” Penny’s familiar voice grumbles in greeting behind me. “That truck is so obnoxious. It screams teeny, tiny dick.”
“Penny,” Hollis admonishes.
I laugh at her words, but it dies in my throat when I see her .
Charlotte fucking English.
Alive. Well. Awake.
Unlike T.
Fuck this girl.