Pretty Little Lies

1. Bay

ONE

bay

He’s not ready for you to see him yet.

Who the fuck is he ?

That cryptic and vague as hell comment Reeve left me with—before knocking me the fuck out—still lingers heavily in my pounding head.

And I’m not sure if it’s the comment that’s leaving me mind-fucked or that he packs a hell of a good punch that’s making me not think straight because I’m all over the place.

And impressed.

I’m not for the whole hitting women bullshit—being a battered woman once in my life and all that—but, damn. If Reeve ever needed to handle business, he’s got it. I’m actually feeling like an asshole because out of all the boys, he would’ve been the last one I would’ve bet on to be able to hit that hard.

That’s what you get for judging a book by its cover.

My fingers descend the aching spot of my cheek where he delivered said blackout punch, and everything from last night is a hazy blur but perfectly clear in my head.

Reeve was protecting me.

It makes zero sense because, last time I checked, the boy ran up the chain of the Forsaken Crew.

High up.

Like one of three men who leads it. So, question is…why was it a thing? Why didn’t Reeve cut into them and tell them to fuck all the way off when they were panting like dogs in heat?

While I should be planning a dodgy tactic of staying away from these boys, I can’t shake away the curiosity. That nothing about last night makes any sense to me.

Who the hell was shooting at us? Is there another damn gang sprouting from the ground and making themselves a new enemy of the Forsaken Crew? And how many more times do I need to remind myself to stay the hell away from these doofs?

A million, apparently.

There’s no world where I would ever allow a man to hit me the way Reeve did. But I can’t help but grant him leniency because the look in his hazel eyes was haunted. As though he was fighting back demons as I felt him tremble against me.

He didn’t want to do it as much as I didn’t want to be front and center stage. So, when he called Torin, it only sparked more questions.

And the last thing I wanted to do was speak to Pretty Boy and hear him bitch at me for running through The Landings again and how many times did he need to tell me said fact.

After my blatant silence, he told me to be a good girl while playing along with Reeve’s performance, and it wasn’t like I could stand there and argue all night about it—the prick.

I could’ve.

But the douchebag who kept eye-fucking and asking to tag team with Reeve gave me the fucking creeps. So I took my chances with Pretty Boy and rolled with it.

I don’t know how long it lasted, but I remember staying locked in Reeve’s eyes as he anchored down a calmness where I knew he wouldn’t hurt me. Call it being stupidly naive or good instincts, but Reeve hasn’t steered me into a blanket of confusion or thought process of his next move.

The man was cutthroat clear on what he wanted and what he felt.

He wanted me, whether that meant fucking me and fleeing, or developing a relationship and marrying me.

His words, not mine.

Maybe he and I share the same sentiment of hating any sort of barrier where living freely and with whomever doesn’t come as easily as the rest. And, despite that, Reeve protected me.

It still doesn’t answer questions that are none of my business, but it’s clear to me that he held me in high regard.

And that’s more than what I can say about any man besides Levi.

Nevertheless, last night was a reminder that I needed. That, even if Reeve saved my damn virtue and some of my pride last night, I can’t play this game anymore. No matter how much he tries to drag me into that smooth charm and those mellow vibes. These political-gang rules still apply to the both of us.

My ass stays out of The Landings and his South Shore.

Period.

This Romeo and Juliet bullshit is going to chop one of us down and they’re going to die.

“Bay, can we have chocolate chip waffles?”

Glimpsing over my shoulder, Mae comes running into the room. Her little braids swinging at her sides as she comes into the kitchen while I wash dishes.

“You don’t like chocolate chips,” I tease, keeping a straight face as I continue to rinse the dish I’m washing.

“I do too!” she exclaims with bright blue eyes, not catching on that I’m fully aware she does. “Daddy said I could have some.”

“Uh, huh. And is Daddy trying to get some? Because he needs to eat healthy, little one.”

Mae pushes her bottom lip out. “But he doesn’t want to.”

“Yeah, but he has to, or he’s never gonna get better.”

“But can’t he have a few bites of mine?”

Lord, grant me strength.

It’s bad enough that Dad puts on his emo face every time I stride into the room with his healthy dinner. Now he has Mae and her cute cheeks playing along with it too.

“Four,” I tell her. “ Only four. Can you do that?”

“Yes!”

“How many is four?” She lifts that many fingers up to show me. “Are you sure you’re gonna share?” She bobs her head up and down for longer than necessary. “What about when I wanted some of your sour gummy worms the other night when we were watching Beauty and the Beast ?”

She scoffs and blows me off with, “You can’t have those. You had your own candy.”

“Hence why it’s called sharing , Mae.” I lightly ruffle her hair with my wet hand, and she squeals out in fake horror.

“Bay, stoppp . Can I have three?”

“Sure.” I slide the plate into the dish holder and turn off the water. “Now get outta here, butt weed.”

I pretend to swat at her bottom as she giggles away, skipping back into the front room to hang out with Ellie and Dad, when my phone buzzes on the chipped laminate.

UNKNOWN: Have you come up with a few dozen ways to cut my balls off?

Reeve .

My heart skids almost to a full stop, because I can hear his voice through the message. The solemn and remorseful tone that outlines tortured hazel eyes.

And as much as I want to text him back and actually thank him, I don’t.

He’s probably overwhelmed with worry and anxiety about how I might be feeling about him right now, but it’s not my job to ease his mind. This is a good send-off as any. And here I am, having to tell Levi that I lost all that weed last night at some point.

REEVE: I’m sorry for what I did, McQueen. There are no words that’ll ever be enough to cover it.

My chest pangs a little at this being a goodbye. I knew I’d never be able to exist in his world, but I guess it never stopped the idea from trying.

Maybe in another life, he would’ve been the best kinda guy to make me laugh, cry, and even fuck. But we weren’t born during peace, instead armed conflict that we didn’t start. And, throughout our differences and living on the other side of the equation, Reeve will never safely be a part of my life and vice versa.

We were doomed before we ever started, and it’s better this way. At least I’ll know he’s safe and on the other side of the divide with his boys, rather than trying to sneak over here and risk his life.

I try to shove back the vision of seeing the pads of his fingers frantically hitting the keyboard of his phone. The anxiety that is coursing through his messages and I quickly forget about me.

Maybe that’s a fault of mine.

I’m the oldest, therefore, I always find the need to help, to heal and tend, the problem-solver and the one that’ll go to bat for you if someone is trying to knuck up on someone’s well-being.

Reeve is not my responsibility. I have my hands full already with my own squad and family.

But it still doesn’t stop the desire to want to.

I suddenly make eye contact with Dad in the living room, as if he’s been watching me the whole time.

At first, I feel like he caught me doing something—because I am—but I raise my hand and give him a little wave before grabbing some pancake mix from the small pantry.

My phone buzzes again in my palm, and I promptly glance down at it.

REEVE: Stay out of trouble. I’ll come see you in a few days.

And, the thing is, I have no doubt he’d come by.

I just don’t want him to.

Which is crazy because, at that exact moment, the front door to the house flies opens, almost slamming against the wall and my first thought goes to him.

Frantic to see me, not able to wait any longer since I’m not texting him back.

But when Levi’s body shows up between the foyer and the kitchen, I’m disappointed that I can’t relieve some of Reeve’s stress.

And in hindsight, I kinda wish it were Reeve now.

Because standing before me is Levi seething in pure, towering rage as he pins me to my spot with said menacing glower.

The baby blue tee he’s wearing screams that his muscles are tense and wanting to rip into something other than the fabric covering them.

I step forward on instinct, but something wards me off to give him his space. The tension that just filled the room is thick and almost suffocating as I try to get my next words out.

But they lodge there because I’ve never seen Levi so pissed and my paranoia is warning me that I’m the cause to it.

“What happened?” I finally press, watching him inhale and exhale in deep and unsteady breaths.

Levi flexes his inked fingers, pinning me down as though he wants to murder me.

“Lev, what the hell?—”

“Why didn’t you—” His brows tightly clench before he’s erasing the rest of the distance between us and getting right into my personal space.

The smell of fresh motor oil fills my nostrils and I crane my chin up to look up at him, hating how devastatingly upset he appears. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

If I would’ve blinked, I would have missed the way his features softened a bit before they skewed back up again in a perplexed state of whatever the fuck.

“Why didn’t you call me the moment you got…”

I give him a baited second to press on, but he doesn’t, so I ask, “The moment I what?”

“Are you serious ?” he leers through his teeth, careful to keep his voice down so that Dad and my sisters don’t hear him. “You’d hide something like…” A heavy exhale pushes through his lips and his whole muscled-up frame shakes in tandem. “Bay…I’m gonna kill that motherfucker.”

There’s no fucking way.

I slowly begin to rock my head back and forth. At what, I’m not sure, but he couldn’t know. No one I know was there. And Torin would tell him unless he has a clear death wish that he’d like acted upon today.

He’s the King of South Shore.

And that has to come with intel and shit he probably doesn’t want to know.

“Who…are you talking about?”

Levi takes a menacing step forward, his chest brushing against mine when I flinch back, which causes his green eyes to darken.

“You’d seriously keep this from me? I know this isn’t something that would be easy to talk about, but I’d have to know. There are consequences that would need to happen and a lot of fucking lives lost.”

“I’m really confused.”

“Are you?” he clips out through his clenched jaw. “Because that fucking video I got actually almost made me throw up.”

Half my brain wants to drown in a state of denial that he’s speaking of something else, but every hair on my arms proclaim that my best friend knows.

That he’s privy to every single thing that happened last night, and it’s about to blow up in my face.

“Are you gonna protect him? Did he threaten you to not tell me? Because I swear to God, it doesn’t matter what he did or didn’t do, I’m going to take pleasure in ripping that kid’s dick off and shoving it down his fuckin’ throat.”

Okay, soooo…we’re fucked.

“Levi…I promise you, I’m fine.”

“Fine,” he repeats solemnly, but there’s a tick to his tone that’s on the verge of losing his ever-living shit. “Fine is when I find you without a bruise on your face. Fine is when I don’t get a video of Reeve Stanton assaulting my best friend. Fine is when?—”

“It’s not like that.”

Levi’s murderous glare heightens, and I’m not sure that it was even possible. “He assaulted you last night. In front of all those…those motherfuckin’ dead men.”

“Levi, stop?—”

“They’re all dead ,” he clips out. His lips curled in a menaced snarl as his voice heightens. “ All of them. They taped you getting…and I’m not—” He flexes his jaw, and I swear to God, he appears so upset that I think he’s going to cry.

“He didn’t rape me,” I quickly retort, my voice only above a soft mutter. “Please, let me explain.”

Anxiety rips viciously through my veins, ramping up for round three hundred and seventy-two it feels like. Ever since that night Emilio had those two guys break into my house. When he approached me about the truth and what I’ve hidden from Levi because I don’t trust his temper to not waltz him into death.

“Bay, what are you talking about? I saw it.” His green eyes fall down the length of me. “We…” He swallows hard, appearing uncomfortable and unsure of what to do. “We need to get you to a hospital.”

“I’m okay.” I hold out my hands, trying to soothe him, but it’s not working. Levi appears just as guilt-stricken as if this was his fault than anything.

And I hate that it’s there.

That he looks so sick about it, but it’s about to get worse.

“Did he fucking hit you?” He eyes my cheek accusingly where a perfectly purple bruise sits.

“It was faked.” Levi’s brows clench in confusion. “My, um…my pants were down, but Reeve didn’t…penetrate.”

“Color me fucking confused. Why the fuck were you with Reeve Stanton?”

You’re just digging yourself a deeper hole here, girl.

Levi closes the rest of the distance between us, and I don’t step back this time. His wide frame towers over me like the wall of China when I don’t respond. “You got two minutes before I go find Stanton myself and rip his arms off his body. What are you saying to me?”

“I’m saying he didn’t fuck me.”

“Yeah?” One of his brows list. “Then why is it that, all of a sudden, I got three boys— my enemies—up your whole ass? Why is it that Reeve Stanton had my best friend pinned against a car while a bunch of men chanted for him to fuck you harder. I know you’re a ballsy bitch, Bay, but I didn’t think you were an exhibitionist.”

“I’m not.”

“Then you’ve gotten yourself into something that I’m not going to like.” He returns his attention back to my bruise and his jaw locks. “You datin’ one of them?”

“No.”

He studies my face for a second before giving a curt nod of his head. “Then I’m going to need more answers.”

“Ellie and Mae,” I blurt out so quickly that I double back with how I just ratted myself out.

With the simple mention of Reeve’s name getting harmed by my best friend, I’m not banking on Levi letting him get off that quickly.

He got under my fucking skin. Those surfer vibes and that damn warm smile got me.

Levi quirks a brow. “What about them?”

I can’t do this.

We’re talking about my being related to his moral enemy. That I’ve been running into these boys left and right and allowing them to have access to my body like a free whore.

He doesn’t need to know about that. Just the basics.

“Bay…” Levi’s voice softens, but my throat hardens. It doesn’t want to release the words that he so desperately needs to know.

If it comes to him turning his back on me, I don’t know what I’m going to do.

I’ve depended on him for mental and moral support through the years. Especially when I broke up with Matteo. He’s picked me up and put me back on my feet and, without him, I’m not sure I could survive all this.

“Levi, I’m sorry.” His face drops as though I just told him what I’m trying to say, but all I can do is freeze up and shrivel up before him.

“For what?”

“Because I’m Emilio Wildes’s daughter.”