Chapter Fifteen
MILA
Ididn’t want to be at the bonfire. Not after the day I’d had, or the calm I’d scraped together at the rink. But Avery showed up at my door with fire in her eyes and an attitude that screamed “get in the car or I’ll drag you.”
“You ditch on this and Elise wins,” she’d said, arms crossed, every inch the general. “You want her to think you’re hiding? That she got to you?”
Of course not. I knew the rules. Never let them see you bleed. But some nights? Bleeding in peace sounded like a luxury I couldn’t afford.
“I just wanted a night to myself,” I muttered, arms wrapped tight across my chest as I slouched in the back seat of Avery’s friend’s car. I didn’t remember her name. Maybe it was Jasmine? She was too perky and too glittery, and her perfume made my head throb.
“I get it,” Avery said, softer now. “But you can’t keep letting them control the narrative.”
God, I hated that word. As if this was all just a story being told by someone else—Elise with her shitty lies and cushy bank account—and I was stuck playing the villain in someone else’s fairytale.
We pulled up to Jax’s place and parked near a row of SUVs and overpriced cars. Laughter drifted from the back of the property. Flames flickered just past the tree line, clawing at the dark, orange and gold bleeding into the trees. I hesitated in the car.
Avery turned around, eyes too observant. “You good?”
No. Not even a little. “Yeah.” I reached for the door handle. “Let’s get this over with.”
The air outside was cooler than I expected. It smelled of beer, smoke, and pine needles. The kind of scent that could almost be comforting if it weren’t tied to high school politics and rich-kid power games.
We followed the path down toward the bonfire, the bass from someone’s speaker vibrating through the ground. The second we stepped into the clearing, I regretted it.
Logan’s eyes found me first. He was leaning against a tree with Elise and Nina flanking him, knockoff bodyguards at best, red Solo cup dangling from his hand. He tilted his head, a cruel smirk curving his thin mouth, the kind of grin that said he’d been waiting for me.
Elise’s smile faltered for half a second, just long enough for me to see the panic flicker behind her perfectly lined eyes before she smoothed it over with a sip from her cup.
She leaned closer to Logan, whispering something that made Nina snort—too loud, too fake.
It was a performance. I’d already seen the crack in her composure.
The hair rose along the back of my neck as I felt his presence.
Luke. I didn’t look at him directly, but I didn’t have to.
I could feel the weight of his stare carving into the space between my shoulder blades.
I lifted my gaze and met his head on. He didn’t move, just stayed there, posted up with the other guys, royalty holding court over their private kingdom.
Avery led the way, weaving us through the crowd toward a group of girls I didn’t know well. I kept my expression neutral, hiding the fact I was seconds from turning around and bolting.
“This is a power move,” she whispered without looking at me. “Act the part.”
I nodded. I got where she was coming from, respected it even. But tonight I was tired. And it wasn’t only school, or Luke. It was the weight I came home to every night. It was also my mom. She’d been acting… off. Even for her.
She still left early, came home late, but now there was this added weight to her. Haunted eyes. Biting questions that came out of nowhere—Who are you talking to? How’s school? Have you said anything about our past?
But never answers. Never context. She used to overshare.
Used to crash on the couch beside me with takeout and spill stories from the office as if we were co-conspirators instead of mother and daughter.
Back then, it felt like we were in this together.
And she’d always make time for me. Now? She was a vault.
And it scared me more than anything else.
The silence between us had thickened into something jagged—every word we didn’t say cut deeper than the ones we used to shout or scream about.
I knew she hated the rift, even if she wouldn’t admit it—saw it in the way her gaze lingered on me too long, as though she was memorizing instead of mothering.
Whatever she was protecting me from, it was pulling her further away.
The heaviness of it still clung to me as I followed Avery deeper into the clearing, the heat from the fire brushing my skin, as though it could burn away everything I didn’t want to feel.
A keg sat near the trees, flanked by a cooler of canned drinks and a haphazard lineup of rum, vodka, and tequila with a few mixers thrown in as an afterthought.
I grabbed a red Solo cup and filled it from the keg beer I didn’t really want—just enough to take the edge off.
Then I followed Avery and Jasmine to a spot far enough from the crowd to pretend I wasn’t already counting down the seconds until I could leave.
The fire crackled behind us as I forced a smile, tapping my cup with Avery’s and pretending the world wasn’t spinning out beneath my feet.
The music helped. So did the distraction of conversation, the lazy way Avery’s friend Jasmine talked about her English teacher’s tragic haircut, the bottle of something vaguely fruity that got passed around.
My guard dropped. Not all the way. But enough to breathe.
After I’d drained my subpar beer, I wandered toward the cooler to grab another drink, needing space for a second. The noise, the bodies, the looks—it was a lot.
That was when I felt it. That subtle shift in air pressure. The invasive presence behind me. I didn’t even have to turn around to know someone unwanted was moving in on me.
“Didn’t think you had the guts to show.” Logan’s nasally voice slithered against my ear.
I stiffened, closing the lid of the cooler slowly before turning to face him. “Back off.”
He smiled. Too wide. “Come on. Don’t be like that. Let’s take a walk. Clear the air.”
My grip on my still empty cup tightened. “I’m good right here.”
His hand shot out, meaty fingers wrapping around my wrist.
His thin smile sharpened. “Don’t make me ask twice.”
I yanked my arm, twisting hard, just the way Mom’s boyfriend Edwardo, who owned the gym, had taught me. His grip slipped, and I was free. “You touch me again,” I growled, “you’ll regret it.”
He laughed as if I hadn’t just meant every word. And then he wasn’t laughing anymore. Because Luke was there. Between us in less than a breath.
His fist slammed into Logan’s jaw, the crack echoing through the trees. Logan staggered, spit flying, nearly toppling into the cooler.
Everyone froze. The party around us stuttered, the music still thumping, but now it felt off-beat—as though even the bass was holding every other breath.
Luke didn’t flinch. He loomed over Logan, shoulders squared, eyes all ice and fury. “I warned you once. That was your shot. You touch her again, you don’t walk away.”
Logan’s hand went to his jaw, blood blooming from his split lip. He looked around as if maybe someone would step in. But no one moved. Jax, Chase, Theo—they were already closing in behind Luke and me.
“You think I was kidding about laying hands on her?” Luke’s voice cut like a blade.
Logan sneered through blood. “She’s not yours. Not anymore. You made that clear at the start of the school year.”
“Maybe not.” Luke’s voice was deadly calm. “But she sure as fuck isn’t yours either.”
Logan’s fist clenched, his expression mutinous, and for one terrible second, I thought he might be dumb enough to swing. But he wasn’t that stupid. He looked at the guys behind Luke. Read the room. Then he spat on the ground near my feet and stalked off toward the shadows.
I stood there, still vibrating with leftover adrenaline, my wrist throbbing where he’d grabbed me.
Luke turned to me, jaw clenched, eyes dark. “You okay?”
“I was handling it.”
“Doesn’t mean you had to do it alone.”
I didn’t answer. Didn’t trust what would come out of my mouth.
Because his voice—low, quiet, rough at the edges—cut straight through my defenses.
Not cold, or cruel, just honest. And it undid me.
That wasn’t the Luke who’d iced me out since I came back.
That wasn’t the Luke who watched me skate and said nothing, because yeah, I’d clocked him there.
That was someone else. Someone dangerous and familiar.
And I didn’t know what scared me more—that I didn’t recognize him anymore. Or that I still wanted to.