42. Juliet
42
JULIET
A bolt of sunlight smacks me square in the face and a groan rumbles up my throat. I slap at the bed, searching until I find a pillow and then I yank it over my head, blocking out the light. My head pounds , but a low masculine chuckle has me lifting it again anyways. For a moment, I have no clue where I am. The room isn’t mine. The bedsheets aren’t mine. Hell, the mattress isn’t mine. Then I remember.
I’m at Nolan’s house, in his bed. Slowly, I turn in the direction of male amusement where I find none other than Nolan himself, sitting in that tiny scrap of a piece of furniture desk chair. He’s watching me with his elbow propped on the chair arm and one leg drawn up and crossed over the knee of the other. There are shadows under his eyes that make me wonder if he even slept the night before.
I glance down at myself, frowning when I don’t recognize the gray t-shirt I’m wearing because it’s definitely not what I put on for bed. The events of the night before come back in small increments, reminding me just what happened to that black tanktop. Another groan comes from me as I collapse back on the mattress and reach for the pillow once more.
“Too much tequila?” Nolan inquires, his tone light.
Lifting a hand from the bed, I flip him the bird and burrow back into the sheets and covers. I could sleep for a week and it still wouldn’t be enough.
“Come on.” The bed dips under a heavy weight and the pillow over my head is plucked away. “We’ve got plans today and you can’t stay here.”
I arch up onto the mattress, ready to spit bile his way when a water bottle is suddenly shoved in my face along with his open palm where two little blue pills rest. Scowling, I snatch the pills and water, downing them in record time. Glaring at Nolan as he waits patiently for me to finish chugging a good half of the bottle, I finally catch my breath and release it only for him to snag it from my hand and get off the bed.
“Breakfast is already ready, Princess,” he calls over his shoulder as he shakes the bottle in my direction. “Best get up and get ready for the day. We have a shit load to do.”
With a snarl, I dive for the pillow now sitting at the end of the bed and throw it at the back of his head. He laughs, easily dodging it as he slips out of the bedroom and closing the door.
Fifteen minutes later, I’m dressed, my face is washed, and I’m feeling marginally more human as I enter Nolan’s kitchen to find that we’re not alone. I carefully avoid looking in Gio’s direction as I head to the counter where a stack of pancakes wait on a plate as Lex scoops the last one on top. The back of my neck prickles with awareness as I grab one of the paper plates and fork over a couple of the pancakes before turning towards the others.
Nolan kicks out one of the four chairs surrounding the table as I approach and I take that as my cue to sit. All of the fixings for a good pancake breakfast are already set out, so I snag the butter and syrup and drench my breakfast in the sugary combo before spooning up some peanut butter right on top.
“Lex, your SUV is ready for pick up,” Nolan calls out as I stab a fork into the first bite and lift it to my lips.
Raising my head as I chew, I watch the goings on surrounding me as Lex pulls up the final chair with a plateful of his own breakfast. Gio has thankfully turned his attention to his food as he digs in and fiddles with his phone absently.
We’ve always shared our toys…
His words from the night before choose that exact moment to enter my head, reminding me of my idiocy. Peanut butter sticks to the roof of my mouth and I swallow roughly, trying to get it to go down. All around me, the guys act completely casual, as though they don’t know what I did with Gio in Nolan’s bed. Surely they do. Gio admitted as much—they don’t keep secrets from each other. Minutes pass in an odd sort of discomfort where I’m the only one who seems aware of their every word, every move. I finish my breakfast quickly, grateful for the pills Nolan had given me earlier because my hangover headache is finally abating.
I pick my plate up and snag Lex’s and Nolan’s on the way to the trashcan. I ignore Gio’s completely since his is still half-full of food. When I turn back around, I realize all three sets of eyes are on me. I lean back against the countertop, propping myself up as I cross my arms.
“Okay,” I finally concede. “What are we doing today?”
Lex smiles and arches a brow. “You’re not going to fight us?”
I glare his way. “Is there a point?”
He seems to think about it for a moment before shrugging. “Not really. You’ll just wear yourself out and we’ll make you do what we want anyway.”
Yeah, I expected as much. “Then, no,” I say. “I’m not going to fight. I’m too tired and hungover to do much.” And this is the first Saturday in well over a month that I’ve not had to work. I don’t really remember what other people do on their days off.
“We have work to do,” Nolan says. “Gio, you need to go check up on your mom. I’ll run Lex to the garage so he can pick up the SUV.”
“I thought you were working last night.” As I say the words, I watch the three of them. Just as I expected, they tense and go quiet. Yeah, I think sardonically. Errands, my ass.
Clearing his throat, Nolan recaptures everyone’s attention. “My mom picked up an extra shift at the hospital this morning, so I wanna run over something for her to eat.” He refocuses on me. “Then we need to go see how the Ritchies are doing with your place.”
My arms tighten around my chest. “I went yesterday,” I admit. “Mrs. Ritchie made it seem like it’d be a while more.”
Nolan nods. “I want to go in and talk to her myself. Mr. Ritchie is a cheap bastard. If you’re not kicking up a massive fuss, he’ll take forever to get shit fixed. Then we really do have shit to do today.”
I contemplate the three of them as Gio stabs the last of his breakfast and swallows almost an entire pancake whole. I’m surprised he manages it without choking, but once it’s gone and he drains his glass of orange juice, he’s up and out of the chair. He bypasses me to drop the paper plate into the trash and his glass into the sink. Just when I think I’ve gotten away from the awkward morning-after encounter, he stops right in front of me. My arms drop to my sides as he cages me in against the counter. Right there, in front of his boys, Gio Vargas leans down and puts his lips right in front of mine. I go still.
“Next time,” he says, voice low and deep and vibrating up through his chest, “I wanna see you come all over my cock.”
My lips part and he swoops in, damning me with a hot as fuck kiss. His tongue slips in and duels with mine, tangling together in an intimidating rush of heat. Then, he’s gone, slipping back out and stepping away.
“Remember what we said—find out when visiting is at the prison and one of us will drive you to see your dad.”
“Wha—”
But he’s already gone, disappearing through the living room and out the front door before I can even reconnect my brain with my body.
A beat of silence passes and then Nolan lets loose a low whistle. “Well, he certainly doesn’t beat around the bush.”
“You knew that.” Lex passes Nolan a look I can’t decipher.
Face threatening to go hot with a blush, I spin away from both of them. “Do you have things to do or not?” I snap as I head back down the hall to grab my shoes.
Behind me, I hear the two of them laugh and the weird little belly flip that happens in my stomach doesn’t make me feel any more grounded than that kiss Gio planted on me.
After breakfast, I’m squished into the white pickup between Lex and Nolan to drive over to the garage that Nolan works at. We drop off the truck and trade places into Lex’s freshly fixed up SUV. I frown as I hop into the back seat and glance back.
“Is it just me or does this thing seem higher off the ground?” I ask.
Nolan chuckles as he gets into the passenger seat up front and Lex starts the engine. “I’ve been wanting to deck out Lex’s ride for months,” Nolan admits. “Your little tantrum gave me the excuse I needed.”
Rolling my eyes, I click on my seatbelt. “It wasn’t a tantrum,” I mutter, sitting back.
Neither of them reply and we roll out of town. Lines of trees go by, flying past the windows as Lex takes the winding back roads that lead to the edge of Silverwood’s town limits. Just before he reaches the outskirts, he hangs a right and we veer off onto a gravel road.
“Where are we going?” I demand, sitting up straighter as I glance back towards the main road.
“I need to stop by my place to pick something up,” Lex says. A few minutes later, we pull up to a rusty gate and Nolan slips out, running up to unchain the lock and hold it open.
The SUV ambles forward and Lex stops again a few yards in for Nolan to run and hop back into the vehicle. They leave the gate open as we drive further down the path where we pass an old-looking farmhouse with a wraparound front porch and a bed of half-dead flowers out front. The place looks a bit on the rough side, but it’s clear whoever lives there does their best. The paint is new even if the front steps appear saggy.
We don’t stop, though, until we’re a good half mile further behind the farmhouse. My eyes widen at the small structure there. It’s a plain, undecorated square of a building that looks like it has three old wooden doors almost big enough for a small car to fit through. On top, there are small windows set over each door. A metal rooster shaped weather vane sits atop twin arrows with the letters ‘N, S, E,’ and ‘W’ underneath.
“What is that?” I ask, leaning closer to the window.
“My great-something granddad used to fix carriages back in the 1800s,” Lex says. “He built an extra-large carriage house back here for when some of the folks in the city would bring them to be refurbished or whatnot.”
“The 1800s?” I frown. “Don’t tell me you still use the carriage house.” Even as I say the words, the evidence of the well-used building is staring me in the face.
The carriage house appears almost as well kept as the farmhouse we passed. There are no cracks in the windows, no grime coating the outside of the structure, and a light above the door along the side of the building makes it clear it now has electricity running through it.
Lex parks the car and glances back at me. “I live here,” he says before popping his door open. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”
I watch him walk up to the carriage house and pull out a set of keys from his pocket. He lives here … in a carriage house. What? I look to Nolan only to find him staring back at me. In the time since we passed the gate, he’s found a pair of aviators and pulled them on. The shiny reflective surface of the glasses makes it impossible to see his eyes and know what he’s thinking.
Something warns me against getting any deeper with these men, against asking questions that they might not be willing to answer. Once the questions circle in my head, though, they won’t be stopped.
“Why does Lex live out here instead of with his aunt?”
Nolan glances from the quaint looking carriage house that looks so very different from what I ever expected of Lex and back to me. “Lex’s aunt didn’t expect to take in a kid when she did,” he admits. “She got him through his younger years after his parents…” He drifts off, but he doesn’t need to remind me. Before my own father’s criminal dealings, it had been one of the worst scandals to break in Silverwood. A supposedly kind, loving couple had come under a social services investigation for abuse of their young son. Rather than risk being shamed, Sancho Medicci had killed his wife and then himself. “He prefers it out here,” Nolan finishes after a beat and faces the windshield as the door opens and Lex climbs back in.
“All done. Let’s go.”
Lex quickly backs away from the carriage house. When we get back to the gate, Nolan hops out and locks it back up, and then we’re on our way once more.
The more time I spend with these men, the more I start to wonder who they actually are. Are they criminals? Are they manwhores just looking for a good time? Football players hoping to make the most of their high school career? Lost kids with few people to look after them and guide them in the right direction? Or are they something else entirely?
I’m almost afraid of the answers I might find.
Once I’m back at school, I’m forced to face the reality of Principal Long’s stipulations. Counseling.
Julia Beck is one of those women whose face is ageless. There’s no hint when you look at her face. She could either be one of the teenagers walking the halls of Silverwood Public or she could be a woman nearing her forties. Sitting in front of me with black-rimmed glasses perched on the end of her upturned nose, she clasps her hands on top of her desk and stares back at me. She’s analyzing me as much as I’m analyzing her.
“It’s my understanding, Miss Donovan, that you don’t necessarily want to be here,” she says.
“ Yup .” I pop the word out as I lean back in the relatively comfortable seat across from her and turn my head to look out of the window in her door.
Since coming back to school, the guys haven’t left me alone. I know it’s because they worry about the man who attacked me and whether or not there will be a second attempt from whoever put him up to the task. As the days go by, though, I am starting to forget there was ever a time where I wasn’t surrounded by them twenty-four-seven. I fall asleep in Nolan’s bed, wake up in Nolan’s bed, ride to school with one of the three of them, and sit next to them at lunch and in classes. I’m quickly growing accustomed to my new normal even if it disturbs me how easy it’s becoming.
“You’ve had a lot happen in the last several months,” Miss Beck says. “It’s understandable that you’d have a lot of emotions about it.”
My eyes cut back to her. “Can I ask you a question?” I deadpan.
She blinks, seeming surprised by my ready engagement, but brightens almost immediately. “Yes, please do.” She leans closer.
“What did you lose when my dad fucked over the rest of the town?”
Her expression falters. “I’m not sure that I?—”
I hold up a hand, stopping her. “Please,” I say. “No bullshit. If I have to be here, then I’d rather get the hate out in the open than have to play this back and forth, ‘Oh no, you poor thing,’ ‘Well, other people have issues too and it’s because of your father's garbage.'”
The counselor’s face goes rigid in an instant, guarded and closed off. “I don’t care for the rude and inappropriate language,” she states. “However, I do appreciate your candor, Miss Donovan. So, in light of your transparency, I’m happy to offer you some of my own.”
I wait for it. The blow that’s sure to come. How this is her job and she’s just doing it, but she doesn’t care to help someone like me. Oh, she won’t say it like that. She’ll make it a point to use those big educated words to tell me that my issues aren’t as important as other people’s and how just because I’m displaced doesn’t mean I can act as I want. No more beating bitches’ faces in. No more acting out in class and causing an issue. No matter what anyone else in this school does to me, I should just sit here and take it and be grateful they don’t think of a reason to throw me in jail along with my dad.
Not that they’d have to look far for a reason…
Nolan had said they hid my attacker’s body, but how well was it truly hidden? What if they’re just holding on to it to use it against me later? Where would they even hold a body for long periods? The carriage house?
“Six weeks after the initial story of the Donovan-Calloway embezzlement scandal broke and stocks of the company plummeted, my fiancé killed himself.” Miss Beck’s announcement stuns me.
I close my eyes. Fuck. When I reopen my eyes, I’m shocked to find no emotion on Miss Beck’s face. There’s no consternation, no animosity, no rage. I frown in confusion and one corner of the woman’s mouth tips up.
“My fiancé was a lot of things,” she continues. “An intelligent investor was not one of them. He sank everything he had into Donovan-Calloway.” Like many others, no doubt, I keep my mouth shut. “Another woman in my position might hate your father,” she says. “But you … you’re not Allen Donovan, are you, Juliet?”
“What do you know about who I am?” I bark the question at her.
Before Miss Beck can answer, though, there’s a sharp knock on the door and it swings open. The two of us look up to find none other than Gio standing there. He glances over Miss Beck before his eyes find mine.
“Come on,” he says, jerking his chin behind him. “Your hour’s up. Time to go.”
“Mr. Vargas,” Miss Beck begins.
He merely shakes his head. “Sorry, Miss JB,” he says with a grin. “We’ve got to steal her away. Don’t worry, she’ll be back for her next sesh.”
Like fuck I will, but I don’t say as much as I stand up and snag my backpack off the floor. I don’t know how or why the counselor lets Gio tug me from her office, but as he does, her voice filters back to me. “I think you should do it, by the way,” she calls out.
Curiosity stops me and I press my lips together briefly before glancing over my shoulder.
“Do what?”
She smiles, and it’s an easy, kind thing. She really has that saintly air about her. Her fiancé committed suicide and she doesn’t seem to hate me for it. It’s odd, to say the least. “Go to see him,” she answers.
There’s no question about who the ‘him’ is. I swivel to face Gio as the door closes behind me. “You told her?” My hands curl into fists.
“Me and Miss JB go way back.” Gio heads for the hallway and I follow him out of the counselor’s waiting room into the corridor. “Yeah, I told her I convinced you to go see your dad.”
“What the fuck, Gio?!”
He reaches into his pocket, seeming unconcerned by my hissing wrath. “I’ve got a date set up,” he says. “Had Lex call the lawyer—they’re expecting you this weekend.”
“ This weekend?” As we arrive at the doors that lead out into the student parking lot, I come to a stop. He shoves the door open and then curses as rain begins to sprinkle over us.
“Shit, we’re gonna have to run to the car,” he shoves his phone back into his pocket and darts off across the lot. I follow but at a much more sedate pace. I don’t even feel the fat drops of rain that fall on my face and shoulders.
I’m going to see my dad. This weekend. Less than two days away. Am I fucking ready to face him after he blew up my life?
Gio gets to the Firebird first and hops into the driver’s seat. I’m slower to slide into the passenger’s side. He ranks the engine.
“Gio—I’m—” Freaking the fuck out.
“It’ll be okay,” G says. “But I knew you’d put it off if you could.”
I face him. “That’s my choice to make. You can’t just decide this for me.”
He doesn’t even flinch at the harshness in my tone. “It’s done,” is all he says.
It’s done. Those words hit with an awful finality to them. “No.” He arches a brow. I cross my arms over my chest. “No it’s not just ‘done’.”
Gio’s expression remains calm as he stares back at me for several moments, not saying a word.
I growl in frustration. “It’s been months since I’ve seen my dad. The last time I talked to him was over the phone.” It’d been a quick ‘it’ll all be okay, honey’ lie that I hadn’t believed then and certainly don’t believe now.
“You won’t be alone this time.” My heart stutters to a halt in my chest. Was that why it had felt so terrible the last time I’d talked to my dad? Because it’d been right after I’d moved into my apartment. Mom was gone and I was … alone.
Heat rockets into the car, driving away the cold from outside, and a wide palm finds my thigh, gripping and squeezing in an all-too familiar gesture. “I’ll be right there, Prep Girl,” he murmurs. “No matter what happens, you don’t need to face him all by yourself.”
A familiar burn starts up behind my eyes and I turn in my seat to face the windshield. I’m only distantly aware of Gio putting one hand on the steering wheel as he leaves the other on my leg as he reverses and peels out of the lot. The school building disappears in the rearview mirror.
This weekend … more rain falls outside the car, sliding down the windows. Gio turns on the windshield wipers. The combination of the heat pouring out of the vents, the sensation of his hand on my thigh, and the fog filling my head consumes me and I fade, growing further and further away as the road disappears beneath our wheels.
Above all, I feel the wash of relief that maybe … he’s right. Maybe if I’m not alone, facing him will be easier.