Chapter 39
Chapter Thirty-Nine
After two and a half agonizing hours at this stupid party, I—much like Bella Swan—now know two things with absolute certainty.
One, I hate people.
And two, my bucket list was the stupidest idea ever.
If the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again while expecting different results, then I must be absolutely deranged. What other explanation is there for why I keep forcing myself out of my comfort zone when time after time the people of Deadwood have shown me that they’re incapable of treating me like a normal human being?
Taking a swig of a mixed drink I swiped from the kitchen after finally working up the courage to venture out of the dark corner I’ve been lurking in, I scan Marco’s crowded living room in search of Isabel so I can convince her to bail with me.
I considered finding Ryker and sneaking away like he’d suggested, but he’s been surrounded since the second we walked through the door and is currently winning his beer pong game. It doesn’t feel right to ask him to come with me when I’ve never seen him smile this much before. Just because I’m having a bad time doesn’t mean he needs to leave his own party. He deserves to let loose, especially after that awful encounter with his stepfather.
I let go of a long exhale and blow my bangs out of my eyes.
Once I spot Isabel on the opposite side of the crowded living room, I begin the delicate process of weaving my way through the throng of people while trying not to spill my drink or draw attention to myself. I’ve taken about three steps when the first person notices me and nudges his friend. A moment later, Coraline Parker, a girl I used to go to school with, makes eye contact with me before kissing the dainty gold cross around her neck.
She must say something because more heads turn in my direction.
That’s when the pointing starts.
The bass from the stereo system pounds in time with my pulse, rattling my brain and ricocheting off my rib cage as they stare and whisper. No one smiles or waves or asks me how I’m doing—but then again, neither do I.
Having seen enough, I keep my head down the rest of the way, letting the strobing red, green, and blue lights from a wall-mounted projector illuminate my path. It doesn’t stop the trail of whispers in my wake, but at least the music is loud enough to drown out the specifics.
I’m so done with this place and these damn people.
By the time I make it to the hallway where Isabel and Jenny are chatting, I’m nauseous and dizzy from the cloud of alcohol fumes and cheap perfume. Unwilling to barf on the carpet and not wanting to interrupt what looks like a serious discussion between cousins, I lean against the wall a few feet away, breathing in the lemon oil on my bandana while I wait for an opening.
“I know it happened weeks ago, but I still can’t believe he gave you the brush-off like that,” Isabel says in a rush. “What a dick. We can leave anytime you want if this is too awkward.”
“I’m fine,” Jenny says. “I promise. It’s not like I actually wanted to date him. I knew when I got involved with Ryker that he’s not a relationship guy.” Jenny shakes her head before taking a long sip from her pink Solo cup. “Besides, the orgasms might have been incredible, but they were costing me a fortune.”
“I’m sorry, what ?” Isabel screeches over the thudding base of the music.
Her cousin leans forward conspiratorially and bats her feathery lashes. “Getting your cheeks clapped with your hands tied behind your back wreaks absolute havoc on eyelash extensions. It’s nice not having to get a fill every week.”
My hand contracts involuntarily, my plastic cup cracking as everything around me turns an awful shade of red.
“Seriously, though,” Jenny continues, “Ryker was very up front with what he wanted from me. At the time, it was fun. But now that the orgasm-induced dopamine has faded, it’s a lot easier to see how unhealthy the whole thing was.”
“What do you mean?” Isabel asks, concern etched into her manicured brow.
“For starters, he hates kissing and he never let me touch him. I wasn’t even allowed to give the man a blow job unless my hands were behind my back and I was blindfolded. He always had to be in complete control.” She sighs and shakes her head. “This isn’t worth diving into right now. I just hope your friend knows what she’s doing. Ryker can be… a lot .”
“Willa will be okay,” Isabel says confidently. “She’s stronger than she looks.” My chest swells, but then she grimaces. “I’m really counting on her to remember that when she finds out I’m taking a year off school…”
Jaw clenched so tightly my teeth creak, I fight back the bitter mix of shock and betrayal crawling up my throat. What the hell does she mean she’s taking a year off school?
Sure, she was acting a little cagey on the way to Benny’s, and the stuff she said this afternoon about Kane and knowing what you want out of life was slightly unsettling… But never in my wildest dreams did I imagine she’d bail on me. Not when she was the one who encouraged me to apply to UT in the first place so she could have a friend there.
The muscles in my forearm twitch, causing the cup in my hand to crack further.
I’ll be alone now…
I bring the drink to my mouth, my throat burning and my stomach churning as I gulp down the rest of the contents in one go. How could Isabel keep this from me?
“I’m sure Willa will understand,” Jenny offers with a comforting side hug. “You have to do what’s right for you . If that means taking some time off to figure out who you are and what you want in life, then do it. A good friend will understand that you’ve been struggling and want the best for you. College will always be there when you’re ready.”
A cold wave of uncertainty washes over my indignation.
Clearly, I was too caught up in my own bullshit to see that Isabel was going through something, but she still should’ve warned me…
Caught between a storm of self-pity and self-doubt, I set my cup on a nearby table and quietly slip away through the backdoor in search of fresh air.
There are far fewer people out here, which makes zero sense because the night air is still abnormally cool and Marco’s backyard is incredible. Not only is it massive, but it backs right up to the forest, creating a thick canopy over the grass that I bet would be amazing for shade. I squint, peering into the darkness. It looks like he even has a little seating area near the tree line.
My skin prickles when the smell of musty old paper and oak drifts toward me on the breeze a second before boots click on the concrete patio behind me. I whirl around, irrationally expecting Beau to be there even though that’s not what he smells like. Instead, I find Kane dressed to the nines in a 1970s western tweed suit, half his hair pulled into a bun.
“Jesus,” I hiss, clutching my chest to keep my heart from bursting.
“You’re going to give me a God complex if you keep calling me that,” he says, a dark grin spreading over his full mouth. “What are you doing out here all on your own?”
I turn toward the window where the beer pong game has managed to attract an even larger crowd. Noah has girls climbing all over him, his hand around the waist of a particularly beautiful blonde I went to school with. No one is touching Ryker, but more than a few of his old female classmates are close by—all of them positioning themselves in his line of sight with a significant amount of their perfect skin on display.
“I needed some air,” I supply dryly.
Kane moves to my side, leaving about a foot of space between us while he follows my gaze to where our brothers are now high-fiving, their boisterous spectators clapping and spilling beer as they cheer for the shot Noah just made.
Jealousy worms its way beneath my skin, uprooting deep-seated feelings of inadequacy.
After spending so much of my life despising Ryker, it’s easy to forget how much everyone else in this town loves him.
I wrap my hands around my middle and rub my palms over my forearms. Ryker and I have a connection, of that much I’m absolutely sure. But what could I ever offer a man like that—someone so welcomed and admired by the same people who’ve scorned me?
“I used to think that being on the outside looking in was a punishment,” Kane says, not tearing his gaze away from the scene unfolding inside. “Now I understand that they tried to silence us because we’re different. Society may have pushed us away, but being ostracized is a blessing. It allows us to see people like the ones in that house for who they really are.”
“Who are they?” I ask, unable to help myself.
“Sheep,” Kane says simply. “Easily influenced. Do as they’re told. Most of them incapable of independent thought. They are the reason the human race will annihilate itself.” He steps in front of me, the new position cloaking his face in shadow and blocking the window from view.
I swallow the lump in my throat. “If they’re sheep, then what are we?”
Kane grins, his eyes glinting in the moonlight like I’ve said something amusing.
“ We are the lions who care little for the existence of sheep until it’s time to eat. We are the dogs the livestock cast aside until they realize too late they can’t survive without us.” He lifts his hand, hesitating for a single moment before dragging the pad of his index finger over a scar on my collar bone. “ We , Willa Dunn, survived the fire. We are gods among men, and this world is ours for the taking.”
I shiver.
However ridiculous and outlandish that statement might be, there’s a part of me that’s desperate to believe him—the same dark part that would rather burn this entire town to the ground than forgive them for the way they’ve treated me. Maybe then they’d finally understand what it’s been like…the way Kane seems to.
I might hate the way my skin crawls around him, but there’s something almost familiar about Kane Bennett, like a reflection in a warped mirror showing me an alternate version of myself.
“Why would you ever come back to Deadwood?” I ask, taking a single step into the already minuscule space between us.
He tenses, the air around him shifting as clouds momentarily block out the light of the moon. “Children of Salvation was a joke,” he spits, full of wrath and sounding more like his brother than he ever has before. “The idiot running the place was a weak liar obsessed with personal gain.”
I take a step backward, and Kane pauses his rant to follow the movement.
When he speaks again, the anger is gone, replaced by the lofty air I’ve grown accustomed to. “As for why I came back… We all have a role to play in the path ahead.”
“I won’t come back,” I whisper, more to myself than to him.
A multitude of Edison-bulb string lights flare to life around the patio, followed by a few notes of eerie piano as “Run From Me” by Timber Timbre crackles through the outdoor speaker system before quickly cutting out for an upbeat dance number.
“I thought the same thing when I left,” Kane says, looking over his shoulder at the gaggle of partygoers pouring through the back door, his brother’s raven hair visible among them. “But the truth never stays buried. And no matter how far you run, Deadwood always calls you home.”
I frown, grasping at a tiny spark of recognition in the recesses of my mind. “Why does that sound familiar?” I ask, but Kane’s already gone, swallowed up by the growing tide of people he called sheep.
Rain-soaked pine hits my nose a second before strong arms snake around my waist.
“Where’ve you been?” Ryker whispers against the shell of my ear, the warmth of his chest seeping through my jacket like a calming salve. “Was that my brother?”
“Sure was.” I turn into his arms, brow furrowing as I take in his rigid posture and narrowed eyes while he scans the crowd. “What’s wrong?”
Without answering, he grabs my hand, leading me away from prying eyes to the shadows of the side yard where no one can see us before once again pulling me against his chest.
The music isn’t quite as loud over here, allowing the gentle whir of locusts in the nearby brush to serenade us. But even now, he keeps glancing around like he half expects someone to have followed.
“You need to start making sure all the doors and windows are locked in the house,” he growls, grip on my waist tightening possessively. “And I don’t want you anywhere near my brother when I’m not around. ”
Grabbing onto his biceps for leverage, I rise onto my tiptoes to catch his eye. “Did something happen when you guys talked earlier?”
After weeks of defending Kane, that’s twice in one day Ryker’s said something less than favorable about his half brother…
His gaze drops to mine, lips thinning as he lets go of my waist and reaches into his pocket. “Isabel brought me the note you found in your house,” he says, holding up the folded piece of paper between us. “This is my brother’s handwriting.”
My eyes widen as I stare at the scrawling black ink barely visible between his index and middle finger. “Are you sure?”
“Fucking positive,” he growls.
There’s a part of me that wants to be relieved it wasn’t Cooper or some drifter, but then I picture Kane skulking through my house while I was in the shower and shudder. If it had been Cooper, at least I’d know he was just trying to scare me, but I have no idea what Kane wants, and that makes the whole thing that much more unsettling.
Unlike me, Ryker doesn’t seem to have any confusion over how he feels about finding out who broke in, his agitation so palpable it’s vibrating through his body into mine.
I give his tense biceps a gentle squeeze. “At least we know who it was now, right?”
“Yeah. I guess. I’m just glad you’re getting the fuck away from here.” He glowers before cracking his neck and shrugging. “ Fuck , could I use a smoke…”
Not willing to acknowledge the way my heart just shriveled and dropped into my stomach at the mention of me leaving next week, I force an uneasy smile. “We’re outside, go ahead.”
“My pack is in the goddamn truck.” He grumbles something under his breath as he reaches into his pocket and pops a piece of gum into his mouth.
“I could go grab it for you?” I rub my palms up and down the length of his arms, pausing when I snag on something square and plasticky beneath the sleeve of his T-shirt.
“Ryker,” I ask, brows pinching together. “What is this? ”
“A nicotine patch.”
I lean away to look him in the eye. “Why are you wearing a nicotine patch?”
After chewing a few times, he spits the gum onto the grass and exhales, his muscles softening beneath my palms as he brings his nose to mine. “Strong smells and fire bother you.”
My eyes narrow in disbelief. “So you quit smoking?”
“I didn’t quit , I cut back.”
“Why would you do that?” I inhale deeply, finding no trace of tobacco on him, just rain and pine and the light smell of my honeysuckle body wash mixed with the salty scent of his skin.
I hadn’t thought about it until now, but he hasn’t smelled like tobacco in weeks, and I haven’t seen him smoking in that same time either. I’m also fairly certain I felt the nicotine patch a few days ago when he was telling me how much he hated being ignored…
My heart flutters, warmth spreading out from my chest before it quickly cools. Ryker has more than enough going on without adding worrying about me to the mix. “You didn’t have to do that. I’m not as weak as people think I am?—”
“Don’t put words in my mouth,” he growls. “I’ve never once thought of you as weak. Sheltered? Definitely. Babied? Sure. But weak? Not fucking once.”
I blink, mouth dry and eyes watering. I drop my head, but he grabs my chin, forcing my eyes to his. “Listen, Princess. Putting aside the logical reason that I can’t be chain smoking if I want to pass the physical fitness test at the academy, how does it make you feel if I flinch when you touch me?”
“Like pond scum,” I admit, noticing for the first time how the reflection of the string lights look like tiny fireflies flittering in his eyes.
“It’s the same for me. We can’t help the way our bodies react, but when I see fear in your eyes because of something I did, it makes me feel like a fucking monster.” He grinds his teeth. “It makes me feel like Beau , and I can’t fucking handle that. ”
I stare at him, a million different emotions running through my head at once.
On the outside, Dad grumbling about not having a barbecue in the backyard or Noah complaining about the scent-free detergent I use might seem small, but over time, their repeated complaints about the sacrifices they’ve made to accommodate my quirks add up, culminating in me feeling like a constant burden who needs to earn their keep to be tolerated.
Then there’s the man in front of me. He not only eased my fears but did so by being open about his own…
Regret for wasting so much time not seeing Ryker for the incredible man he is weighs down on my shoulders, followed shortly by a crushing longing for the time we no longer have. Their combined weight presses down on me until my eyes are watering and I can’t breathe.
Ryker’s brow pinches as he cups my cheek. “It’s not a big deal. They’re just cigarettes. I never do anything I don’t want to.”
I link my fingers behind his neck, watching his face carefully for any sign of discomfort and finding none. “Don’t do anything you don’t want to, huh?” I say through a watery smile. “This coming from the man who claimed he didn’t want a party and proceeded to have the night of his life.”
“That was for Noah,” he says with an eye roll. “I could’ve left thirty seconds after we walked through the door.”
The corners of my mouth slip into a frown. “You really love him, don’t you?”
“He’s my best friend. The brother I should’ve had.” Ryker pauses, a heavy sigh escaping his full lips. “I have to tell Noah about us. I know he’s been a real jackass to you lately and he might never talk to me again, but it’s fucking killing me to sneak around behind his back like this.”
I want to remind him that I’m leaving and ask what he’s going to say to my brother, since I barely understand what’s happening between us myself… Instead, I nod. He’s right. My family is dr owning in enough secrets as it is. We don’t need to add this one to the mix.
“Really?” Ryker sounds so relieved, I can’t help but smile.
“Yeah. We should tell him. It’s the right thing to do. I’m slightly terrified, but at this point, it’s not like my relationship with Noah could get any worse.”
Ryker grins at me, stepping into my space like he’s trying to guide me toward the patio.
“Wait.” My voice is high-pitched and squeaky. “You’re going to tell him right now ?”
“God no,” Ryker chuckles. “Let him have fun. We can talk to him in the morning.” After a quick look over his shoulder, he walks me backward until I’m pressed against the brick siding of the house. “I’ve got a much better way for us to spend the night.”
Heat blossoms in my cheeks. “Oh, yeah? Tell me about this idea of yours.”
“Words are cheap,” Ryker says, hoisting me up by my ass with a cocky grin. “How ‘bout I show you instead?”
Grinning from ear to ear, I wrap my legs around his waist, freezing when footsteps echo down the narrow walkway, followed by the sound of two angry voices—one of which I’d know anywhere.
My head snaps toward the driveway, time slowing to a skittering halt as my brother and Marco stride into the side yard.