Chapter Twenty-Six #2
He smiles grimly. “Didn’t feel worth mentioning.”
I hate seeing him like this. All I want is to make whatever cloud has drifted over us go away.
I run my hands up his arms and pull him into a hug.
We stand there for a moment, holding each other, until I finally feel the rest of the tension along his back dissipate.
He leans into me harder, his nose tilting into my hair.
When we part, my chest flutters at the intensity of his look. The hunger there is incongruent to the boy I once knew. His hands drift lower, his fingers curling though the belt loops of my pleated skirt. “What am I going to do with you?” he whispers. “You’re dangerous.”
I try to resist the grin that tugs at my lips, but I can’t. There’s something so infectious about being wanted. About knowing every person in this hallway is wondering why. Why would a guy like him want to be with a girl like me?
Sometimes it’s hard, fighting off the doubt that creeps in. Especially when every douchebag with a podcast has something to say about women’s bodies. Or when every hot girl on socials and TV and in movies has a skinny BBL.
But I know I’m fucking hot, too. Even if I have to remind myself of that sometimes.
Sparks dance across my shoulders.
Ugh.
I take a step back.
“We should get to class.”
He follows me, spinning us around.
“I mean, if you insist,” he murmurs—and then stumbles to the side as broad shoulders crash against his, an oomf falling from his lips.
Malachi chuckles, but it doesn’t meet his eyes. “Excuse you.” His gaze slides to mine. “Class is starting.”
The tips of my ears heat.
I look at the two of them, veritable brothers even before Malachi’s parents died. But the only thing between them now is hatred.
“I’m sorry,” I say, pointing my words in Lucas’s direction. “I don’t know why he’s like this.”
His easy grin is back, as if that moment never happened. “You know, I feel like I might have a good idea why.”
I widen my eyes, waiting for an elaboration that never comes.
“Actually,” he says, pulling me into his side for a quick hug. “I just remembered I’m supposed to skip this class today. I have physical therapy in prep for the Greensboro game on Friday.”
He leans back and meets my eyes. He doesn’t need words for me to understand what he’s trying to say. You okay?
I nod my head.
“Call me later?”
With one last, lingering look at his cousin, Lucas takes off down the hall.
Malachi scoffs, his voice pitching high as he mocks, “Call me later.”
I roll my eyes, pushing past him as I enter the classroom. I walk quickly, but his legs are longer and he speeds around me, his shoulders dipping, a confident, almost intimidatingly tough gait born of overcompensating for his prosthesis. He abandons his usual seat for the one right behind mine.
“Can I help you?” I sneer as I slip into the chair, dropping my bag to the floor with a thud. I twist to face him.
There’s a deep ache building in the back of my head, and I wince as I meet two beautifully vicious eyes and a snarl to match.
“Odds you’re making a giant mistake by getting involved with Lucas.” His voice is smooth like velvet, but it burns like dry ice.
“I’m not playing that stupid game right now,” I snap.
His eyebrows lower. “One in one.”
I kiss my teeth. “Why do you even care?”
Malachi’s eyes drop to my lips, his shoulder lifting into a lazy shrug. “Your boyfriend sucks.” He slouches back in his chair, stretching his legs until they rest on either side of me.
I make a face even though I feel the heat of his gaze spreading across my chest and throat. “He’s not my boyfriend.”
Malachi shrugs. “I wouldn’t care even if he was.”
I can’t take this anymore. This squirrelly back and forth with him. I don’t know what kind of dance we’re doing, but I don’t like it.
More seriously, I say, “When are we going to talk about what happened?”
“What’s it to you?”
“What’s it to me?” I scoff, repeating his question back to him. “Lucas told me everything.”
At this Malachi sits up again, his shoulders tensing. “What do you mean he told you everything?”
“He told me about the fight you had with your dad the morning I was supposed to leave. That you were going to come say goodbye like always. He told me your dad made you go with him… and then the accident…”
His eyes darken at the mention.
“I don’t want to talk about the accident with you.” His voice is deathly quiet.
My palms sting in response to his withering glare.
“It’s not… I know what I said, but you know it’s not your fault, right? Lexie—”
He slams his hand onto the table as he leans forward. “Don’t talk about her.”
“What happened?” I push. “How did it… I mean, what…”
He cuts his eyes to the window, his jaw ticking as he watches the leaves blow around in the autumn wind.
“Something about the brakes. I lost control of the car—”
I gasp, shaking fingers flying to my lips.
“Dad had a headache, and Mom was useless, as always, so I drove. And I lost control of the car. And we hit a guardrail and went plummeting down into the ravine. I killed Lexie, okay? I did it. Just like you said I would.”
Tears spring to my eyes, and I wipe them away furiously, desperate to reach out and touch him, to apologize again and again for my stupid fucking mouth.
“Kai—I—”
His eyes shoot to mine at the use of his nickname, water shimmering along the rim of his lower eyelids. He sniffs. “It’s fine.”