10. Blackmail
10
Blackmail
HAZE
The smell of coffee and food wakes me up. Scratch that—the smell of coffee, pancakes, and the incessant bickering of Will and Kendrick wake me up. With my eyes sealed shut, I groan and seek Winter’s body next to mine. Nothing.
Why is she up so early?
Ah. That’s right. Her summer classes start today.
I sit up, assessing my bruised hand. It’s looking a lot better already. I don’t know what the fuck drunk me was thinking. No, I wasn’t thinking. All I could see was the look on her face, the panic, the fear. For a second there, I was back to being the covered-in-blood kid sitting in a police station. For one fleeting moment, I was the town’s freak again. The boy people loved to watch destroy himself from afar.
A phone rings.
It’s Winter’s. I roll over to her side of the bed and pick it off her nightstand.
Caleb is calling.
He’s been blowing up her phone, trying to apologize since the party two days ago.
A text pops up on her locked screen.
Caleb: I’m sorry. I really want things to go back to normal between us.
I scoff, but my stomach lurches with irritation. If this guy thinks he’s going to be allowed anywhere near Winter ever again, he’s got another thing coming.
I slip out of bed, throw on a T-shirt and pants, and eye the boxes sitting on the floor at the foot of our bed. We’re almost done unpacking, and to say it’s about goddamn time would be an understatement. I’ll never fathom how Winter can have so many clothes. Or want so many pillows. She’s been saying she needs to make our living room “Pinterest-worthy” for days. I still have no idea what that means.
I turn into the kitchen, and a big silly grin broadens on my face when I see her in her pajamas, pouring smoking-hot coffee into a mug.
“Look who’s up,” she teases. “I was starting to think I wouldn’t see you before I left.” She draws the kitchen cabinet open and gets another mug out for me. I pour myself a coffee.
“Right. Your summer classes start today,” I casually say like I haven’t been full-on obsessing over that day for a week. I’m meeting a guy for tips today. They say they have something for me, something good.
It better be.
One step closer to finding him,my head says.
One step closer to losing her,my heart counters.
Woah, that was some sentimental shit, Haze.
I brush off the guilt eating me alive and put my coffee down on the kitchen island. I tug her body closer, and lean in for a kiss she denies. She feeds me a line about brushing her teeth first. She knows I don’t give a fuck about that, but that’s just Winter being Winter. She overthinks silly things, but that’s my baby. God knows I wouldn’t change a thing about her.
“I’m sorry, you desperately need me to kiss you? Well, if you insist.” I reel her back in, pressing my lips to hers. She doesn’t fight back, immediately surrendering to my touch. As crazy as this girl can drive me with her decoration obsession, I’ve never felt more at home than with her. Living with Winter is everything I hoped it would be—minus the East side holding my couch hostage and eating the entire contents of my fridge.
Our new life mainly consists of burning a lot of food, showering together to “save the planet,” and making sure there’s no hot water left for the guys by the time we’re done f… Finding diverse ways to show our love.
“What time are your classes starting?” I hook my arm around her waist from behind while she flips over the pancakes that surprisingly seem edible.
“Twelve thirty. I’ll be back at around six tonight.” She wiggles out of my hold to get plates out of the cabinet on her right.
“Let me guess, I’m babysitting the guys?” I peek at Kendrick and Will inhaling breakfast at the kitchen table—and by breakfast I mean the leftover pizza from last night.
“Promise I’ll pay you for your services when I come back,” she hints, and I read between the lines, kissing her again when she hands me my breakfast. I didn’t even ask her to cook for me, but she did it anyway, which officially makes me the luckiest bastard on earth.
“What did I do to deserve you?” I say and notice she didn’t get a plate for herself. “Aren’t you eating with me?”
“I already ate,” she explains, her eyes jumping to the time on the stove. “Crap. I really have to shower.”
“Want company?” Can’t blame a guy for trying.
“Not today. You know how long our showers take.” She traps her bottom lip between her teeth, reminiscing. Damn, she’s not helping me let her go alone. I follow her as she rushes down the hall. She begins closing the door, but I stick my foot in the threshold.
“We’ll make it quick.” My dick jerks just thinking about it. She considers my offer for a second but quickly shakes her head, coming back to her senses.
“ Out .” She gives my chest a small push.
“That’s not what you were saying last night.”
“For the love of God, we’re eating,” Kendrick whines.
“Hey, you’re the one who wanted to live with us,” Winter fires back and pecks my mouth. “Love you.” She closes the door, and I walk back to the kitchen island to eat.
A loud ringtone sounds. It’s not my phone. It’s Will’s. The life drains from his face when he picks it up.
“Who’s that?” Kendrick is quick to ask.
Will sits silent for a little while, obviously not knowing what to do with that call.
Or himself.
“I said who’s that?” Kendrick insists.
“It’s not her. Chill,” Will spits defensively. “I have to take it.” He gets up, sprints down the hall, and locks himself in his room. Kendrick gives out a quiet sigh and finishes eating. A few minutes later, he walks to the sink to wash his plate and turns to me.
“Hey, so… I need you to get Winter out of the apartment tonight.”
I frown. “Why?”
“None of your business.”
I take my attention off him, finishing my pancakes.
“Okay? And why would I do that?”
“I don’t know. Maybe because you don’t want me to tell her to watch out for the weird phone calls you’ve been taking lately.”
I stop chewing, moving, breathing all at once.
It takes me longer than I’d like to regain my composure.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” I barely manage to swallow my last bite.
“Hey, I’m not judging.” He puts his hands up. “I know the street fight shit. I was knee-deep in it, remember? I’m familiar with the shady calls late at night. I get it, man. You’ve got to have your lot of unfinished business from leaving your whole life behind, but I’m sure Winter doesn’t need to be concerned about it, does she?”
I think back to the call I got a few days ago. They wanted to let me know the time and place of our meeting. I sneaked out of bed when Winter was asleep and stepped out onto the balcony. I thought I saw motion in the apartment through the glass doors.
It was Kendrick. Had to be.
“Let me get this straight.” I raise an eyebrow. “You’re blackmailing me. In my own apartment.”
He stops to think before he says, “Yes, I am.”
Shitbag.
“Who’s the girl?”
“What girl?”
“The one you want to shag. She better be worth it.”
He doesn’t reply, but his eyes read Busted.
“You’ve got to give me something here.” I insist.
Finally, he flinches.
“Allie.”
I scoff. “Winter’s best friend? Really? That’s your go-to?”
He can’t hold my gaze.
“She’s going to kill you when she finds out.”
“Who says she has to find out?” Kendrick shrugs.
“Didn’t you learn anything from my friends-with-benefits nightmare? Don’t do that shit. It never ends well.”
“We just started texting. I don’t even know if that’s what she wants. We’re just spending time together is all,” he explains.
“Just spending time together my ass.”
“Would you rather I tell Winter?” he threatens.
“Tell me what?”
Fuck.
We both jolt around. She’s standing in the doorway, drying her wet hair with a towel and assessing us curiously. She’s wearing an oversized white hoodie with I’D RATHER BE SLEEPING written on it in black letters, black leggings, and barely any makeup. She looks like a fucking dream, per usual. How long has she been standing there? Obviously not long enough or she’d be going off on Kendrick for the Allie thing.
“That Haze’s taking you out for dinner tonight,” Kendrick says. She frowns, glancing at me for answers.
“Yeah, it was a surprise, but I guess it’s ruined now,” I fake laugh, and her frown progresses into a smile.
“Really? What’s the occasion?”
“Everything. Us moving in together, you starting school. It’s something to celebrate.” I lie my ass off.
“Where are we going?” Excitement replaces her doubt.
“You’ll see tonight. Now, come on, you’re going to be late.”
Will walks back into the room before she can answer, his phone in his hand. His face is pale—blank.
“Will, come on. You’re driving me,” Winter affirms. “Haze’s got a lot planning to do for our date tonight.” I know she’s been wanting to talk to Will alone for a while now. Probably saw an opportunity to find out what’s up with him and took it. Will doesn’t even put up a semblance of a fight, nodding and pulling the keys to his rental car out of his pocket. Dude looks like he just found out someone died.
“Oh, and Haze, did you call to make the hotel reservation yet?” Kendrick adds.
Man, do I regret letting him beat me that night at the Downside instead of whooping his ass right now.
“What hotel reservation? We’re going to a hotel? You didn’t have to do that, babe.” Winter’s face lights up, and she strolls to me, arms wide open.
“I know. I wanted to.” I wrap her into a hug and glare at Kendrick over her shoulder.
“Isn’t he the best?” Kendrick squeals.
Shitbag, part two.
“Okay. I really have to go now. Text you when I get there.” She kisses me, grabs her bag, and drags Will out of the apartment. Their footsteps fade down the halls. I don’t waste another second on Kendrick, rushing to our bedroom and kicking the door shut. I have two hours to plan a believable date and make a hotel reservation. Then I’m meeting some guy that’ll hopefully tell me how to find my sister’s murderer.
Just another regular day.
Have you ever wondered how many times you’ve walked by someone who has done horrible things without knowing it? Maybe you ran into a murderer at the mall. At the library. At the restaurant. Maybe you passed them on the sidewalk. Haze , for all we know, the stranger next to you could be a monster. This is what my brother used to say. He believed you can never truly know who you’re dealing with.
Ironic that, in the end, he was the monster.
Why am I thinking about my backstabbing bro right now? I’m guessing it has something to do with the pit in my stomach, the guilt twisting my gut. I feel like a monster . I feel like him.
Speed walking toward the set meeting place, I play with my keys and curse my nerves. This is stupid. I have nothing to worry about. I’m practically going to a meeting with myself. They called to let me know no one would meet me an hour back. Just said they left something for me there, whatever the hell that means.
Pulling my hood on, I glance around the sketchy alley. The sound of my footsteps and my heart pumping blood echo in my skull. Is this what criminals feel like? Do they enjoy the stress, the constant possibility of getting caught? Or do they become completely paranoid, too, crippled by what-ifs and maybes? I keep thinking that Winter is going to appear at every street corner, put the pieces together, and leave me forever.
I’m haunted by someone I’ve never lost.
Already missing a love that’s still mine.
My source made it clear. She has to stay in the dark,no matter what , but it’s still killing me. Chewing at my insides every time I see that heart-wrenching smile of hers. My phone lights up with an email confirmation. Thank you. Your room has been booked. I got a suite in a five-star hotel—my baby deserves the best, last minute or not.
Following the instructions given to me, I dive deeper into an isolated area, distancing myself from the crowded streets with each step. I know Florida like the back of my hand, but this place? Might as well ask people on the street for directions to the creepy drug alley.
I jump at the sound of an incoming text.
It’s Winter.
For fuck’s sake, Haze, calm down.
I’ve done plenty of dangerous things before, so why? Why is this time different? Why can’t I fucking breathe?
I read Winter’s name and it hits me.
She’s why.
For the first time in my pathetic, miserable life, I actually have something to lose. Something to fight for.
Someone.
Winter: This class is killing me. Teacher keeps spitting. Poor guy in the front is drowning and I’m soaking wet in the third row. SEND HELP!
I laugh at that. Yes, laugh. I’m in the shadiest place on the planet, on the verge of possibly ruining the only source of happiness in my life, and I’m laughing. That’s what this girl does to me.
Haze: Did you just use the words soaking wet in a sentence about your teacher?
Instant reply.
Winter: Ew. Ew. Ew. Why did you have to say that?
Haze: You’re literally ASKING me to be dirty minded, Kingston.
Winter: How’s it going at home? Did you get into a fight with the guys yet?
Haze: Nope. But I don’t trust myself to stay with them all day. Went out to get some air.
Winter: That’s probably wise. Gotta get back to it. I’m so excited for our date tonight. I love youuuuu
Haze: I love you too. Now tell that teacher of yours no one can make you soaking wet but me.
Winter: STOP REMINDING ME.
I smile, walking until I stumble upon the darkest alley I’ve seen so far. I check the GPS on my phone. This is it. I venture into the darkness, beginning my search for whatever it is that they left for me. Ricky was in a rush and hung up barely five seconds into the call. The idiot couldn’t just tell me “We left such thing in such place.” Nah, that would’ve been too easy.
I curse, scanning my surroundings thoroughly. A brick in the wall captures my attention. It’s lighter than the rest, older. It quickly becomes apparent that it wasn’t there originally. I narrow my eyes and step closer for a better look. Unsure, I tug on the brick with both hands. The complete absence of resistance surprises me. It easily comes off the wall, weighing on my palms. I focus on the hole in front of me. I bet drug dealers are very fond of this place.
I activate the flashlight on my phone. A bag of weed lies inside, untouched. I scoff. I knew it. Looks like someone didn’t come to get their stuff yet. When, at first sight, I don’t find anything else, I think that while this may be a transaction spot for many, it isn’t mine.
That’s when I see the tiny piece of paper rolled up into the corner. I’m careful not to tear it as I unfold the crumbled mess.
H , it reads on the back.
I turn it over. An address.
32 Holland Avenue.
I trap the piece of paper inside my fist, push the brick back into place, and hurry out of this bad area. As soon as I get inside Winter’s dad car—he’s been nice enough to let us keep it until I get a new one in two days—I type the address into Google. The results shock me.
A two-star motel.
But that’s not what freaks me out the most.
Thirty-five minutes away from you.
I begin to boil on the inside, disbelief and victory fighting for a spot in my chest. I can’t believe that there’s a chance he was this close. So damn close. He could’ve been anywhere in Canada, any-fucking-where, but this motel is here.
It’s a sign.
I start the engine and drive off, intending to go back to the apartment so I can pick Winter up from school in an hour. I’m mad, yet relieved, because, finally, for the first time in fucking forever, there’s hope for my sister.
And I’m getting closer to my revenge.
WINTER
“Are you kidding me?” I stalk inside the hotel room Haze unexpectedly booked for us. “It’s official. You’re crazy.”
He opens his mouth, but I cut him off.
“And don’t say crazy for you. That’s way too cheesy.”
He squeezes his mouth shut. Ah, do I know him or what? He walks in after me, the door barely shutting before he swoops me into his arms and carries me straight to the large bed. I didn’t even get a chance to scour the room, but I can’t find it in myself to care when Haze drops on top of me, covering my cheek with hot kisses. Truth is, I’ve been waiting for this moment all day.
“Does that mean you like the room?” he asks.
“Meh. It’s okay,” I shrug but I can’t stop smiling. This is, by a long shot, the nicest room I’ve ever stayed in, and he knows it.
“Glad you approve.” His mouth finds mine for a heated kiss. I think back to the moment he pulled up to my school in my dad’s car, rolled down the window, and threw me his best Colgate smile. The snobby girl I’d just met in class was waiting for her ride as well and hit me with a confused “That’s your boyfriend?” Poor girl was conflicted. Hot as heck young guy driving a minivan? She was almost as amazed as she was weirded out.
Walking out of the building to see Haze waiting for me completely turned my mood around. He took the crappiest of days and made it bearable. Just one smile and I could barely remember why I was upset to begin with.
I thought journalism was my calling, thought being the key word here. I’m not so sure anymore. Between one of my teachers being a human tsunami and another saying most of us would not make it to graduation, I didn’t exactly have a blast.
Mr. Spit invited a full-time journalist to come present herself as well as her job to the class. Come to find out the woman was mostly writing about run-over dogs and liquor store holdups. She said she’s been working for the same company for years and still struggles to write about something she cares about.
I kick the unpleasant thoughts aside and sneak out from under Haze’s strong body, eager to explore our room. I expected many things from this perfect date. Walking into a gigantic suite to find numerous roses creating a path to the bed was notone of those things. I know Haze promised me a hotel room and a romantic dinner,but this is something else.
You see, I have this theory that Haze Adams secretly wants my heart to explode.
I twist the knob to the bathroom and gasp.
“There’s a hot tub?” I squeal, my eyes drifting to Haze over my shoulder. He’s lying on the bed, arms under his head. “That’s the part you tell me you’re kidding and take me to the regular room you booked for us.”
“You might be waiting a while.” He makes his way over to me. A huge basket filled with more rose petals, champagne, lube, and condoms sits on the bathroom counter.
“Well, someone’s got a plan for tonight.” I pick up the five linked condoms.
He snorts. “This is the romance suite, Kingston. What did you expect? Puzzles?”
I laugh and he picks the hanging condoms from my hands, wrinkling his nose. “This won’t do.”
“Why not?”
“We’re going to need way more than that,” he smirks, so unbelievably sure of himself.
“Haze, you’re doing that thing again.” I lean against his chest, my lips teasingly hovering over his.
“What thing?”
I get on the tip of my toes, leaning so close he shuts his eyes in anticipation of a kiss. “That thing where you confuse your dreams with reality.”
Without another word, I leave him stranded with his eyes closed. I can’t stop laughing at the look on his face when he comes running after me. Next thing I know, he’s thrown me over his shoulder.
“Put me down,” I scream in between laughter.
“What’s a guy got to do to get some gratitude around here?” He smacks my ass. “I take you on a romantic date and this is what you do to me?” He throws me on the bed again, his blue eyes meeting mine as my heartbeat increases considerably. I laugh louder when he starts tickling me. Just a heads up: I am not responsible for breaking any part of your body if you tickle me.
“Say you’re sorry.”
“You’re sorry.”
“Say it.” He tickles me until I’m laughing so hard my stomach aches and I can’t take it any longer.
“Okay, okay!” I relent, out of breath, and stick my hands up. “I’m sorry.”
“There. Wasn’t so hard, was it?” He pats the top of my head, and I swat his arm repeatedly. Annoyed, he pins my wrists on both sides of my head. Our gazes tangle. We’re putting on a show, but we’re both holding back smiles. God, he makes me so happy I don’t know what to do with myself.
“I love you,” I exhale.
“I know.”
Pretending to be offended, I attempt to wriggle out from under him, but he stops me, keeping my arms in place.
“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” he laughs, and I struggle to bury my grin. I can’t even pretend to be mad. “I love you, too. You know I do.”
“Then prove it.”
He takes his sweet time, leaning forward and back, twisting a strand of my hair around his index finger, until I’m desperate for him.
“Kiss me,” I urge. He leans in some more, his lips brushing mine, and stops.
“We have to be at the restaurant in ten minutes. Go get changed.” That’s all he says before getting off me. I watch him head for the door with my mouth agape.
“Seriously?”
“It’s called payback. Look it up.” A taunting smile warps his lips as he motions to the bathroom door. “Come on, we’re going to be late.”
Silly me. Guess I should’ve known.
Haze Adams is big on revenge .
“Your mom never told you not to strip in front of people?” This might just be the last thing I expected Haze—well, anyone , really—to tell me tonight. When I send my heels flying across the room and wince in pain, I’m reminded of why I never wear heels—as in ever . I love them, but I love my feet more.
I finish tugging my tight dress down my legs, aware of Haze’s eyes tracking my every move. He’s right. I walked in, closed the door, and pretty much started stripping without a warning. That’s how comfortable I am around him. I dig into my tiny luggage and slide an oversized T-shirt over my head with a sigh of relief. Way better.
“My mother didn’t tell me much. That would require communication,” I state, jumping onto the bed. It’s close to midnight. Dinner was amazing. The food was great, the company even better, but we were both eager to return to the hotel to pass out. Haze joins me on the bed, only taking off his jacket.
“Yeah, well, your mother’s awful, so there’s that.” He shrugs. I roll over to cuddle him.
“I don’t know what I ever did for her to hate me so much.”
“She hates everyone,” he says to make me feel better. I remember him saying that exact line to me about his own parents once. Crazy how two people with different backgrounds can relate to each other so deeply.
“Yeah. But she hates me more.”
“Was it always like this?” he asks.
I nod. “As far as I can remember.”
“Even when you were a kid?”
“Worse when I was a kid. She used to throw these monster parties in our one-bedroom when I was five. I swear, sometimes I’d be up until 3:00 a.m. playing in the sandbox out back. I hated the loud music.”
Haze’s jaw hardens like he can’t stand the thought. “And no one did anything about it?”
“Well, the cops showed up once. A neighbor saw me outside, and this lady came to talk to me at school the next day. I never knew what she wanted, but she asked me a bunch of questions about my mom. I didn’t think twice about it, but now… I think maybe social services tried to take me away.”
The gravity of the situation tugs at my heartstrings. I haven’t looked back upon this moment in years. I never saw the lady again, and my child brain tossed the memory so deep into the trash, it faded to the point of oblivion. But now that I think about it, there’s so much that didn’t add up.
“Then what happened?”
“My mom got with Harry a few days later. Before I knew it, they were getting married and we were moving into the house they have now.” The remnants of a smile color my face. Harry isn’t technically my dad. But he gave me a childhood—a home.
“Talk about good timing,” he points out.
“I know, right? Almost too good.” I’ve often wondered if it was all some sort of arrangement for my mother. My life changed in the blink of an eye. Barely a week after the lady came by, the twenty-one-year-old partying every night was trying on wedding dresses and getting a job.
“I’m so sorry, Winter.” He grabs hold of my hand.
“It’s not your fault. Hey, look on the bright side, there’s no one she hates more than my dad.” A sharp edge of pain crawls up my throat.
“Harry?”
“No. My real dad. You know, the one who left.”
I tell myself that crying won’t change a thing, that a tear shed over someone who doesn’t care is a monumental waste. Still, my feelings spill down my cheeks one by one.
Go away, tears. Nobody invited you.
“Baby, don’t cry.” He holds me tighter. “He’s an idiot. He missed out on knowing the best person in the whole world.” He plants a kiss on my forehead. “And you have Harry. He loves you to the moon and back. You do have a dad, Winter. Biological or not.”
The tears lessen until they stop altogether. He’s right. I have a dad, and the best one by far.
Silent, I draw small circles over his shirt.
“What would you do?”
I look up at him.
“If you met your biological father, what would you do?”
The question rings out in my head.
“I’d ask him why,” I whisper. “Why we weren’t worth it. I get that he was young, and he probably didn’t plan on knocking someone up, but still, he could’ve tried. I just want to know why he didn’t try.”
“Would you want him in your life if he showed up?”
“I don’t know.” I admit.
My resentment wants me to say no, but in all honesty, I have no clue what I would do if I were to see him in real life. If he were standing in front of me, begging me for a second chance, I’m not sure I could blow him off the way I convinced myself I would.
“You know what my mother used to say to me? Before…” Haze pauses. “Before Desiree died.”
My heart aches.
“When life denies you what you want, it just means you deserved better.”
We don’t speak again after that. We don’t feel the need to. We just lie there, in each other’s arms. I listen to his heartbeat, he plays with my hair: It’s the perfect escape.
I think about what he said. That I deserve better. People used to say that about him all the time. They said “better” wasn’t Haze and it would never be. Because they all know so much about being a good person.
I think being good isn’t always doing the right thing without a second thought. It’s not having the right choices, the right words, the right moves on speed dial. In some cases, it’s being tempted by the darkness, lured in and completely immersed. It’s getting hurt over and over until finally, the darkness spits you back out and leaves you to make a choice. Fight or fall. It’s having lived through the worst of the worst and surviving it. And after you survive it? After you’ve had your soul picked apart piece by piece? It’s lifting yourself up and choosing the light. Again. One last time. That’s being good. Haze taught me that doing the right thing doesn’t come easy. It might just be the hardest thing you’ll ever have to do in your whole damn life, but that’s how you know it’s worth it…
That it’s real.
When his breathing becomes regular, I reach for his jacket, that he’s using as a mini blanket, and walk to the beige couch in the corner of the suite. Haze didn’t pay this much money to sleep on top of the covers. I’ll have to wake him. I drop his jacket on the sofa and frown when a piece of paper slips out of his pocket, floating all the way down to the floor. It’s small, crumbled. For all I know, it could just be an old bill, but my curiosity gets the best of me. I pick it up, glance back at Haze, who’s still sleeping like a baby, and unwrap my discovery.
An address.
32 Holland Avenue.