Page 104 of Chaos at Westbrook High

After she showers, Hailey sits down in front of the mirror in her room and allows me to blow dry and straighten her hair. She watches me skeptically the entire time, but she doesn’t tell me to fuck off.

“What’s gonna happen with Freya?”

“We’re gonna talk to her,” I say, my eyebrows dipped in concentration as I run the straightener over her soft hair. “Find out what she knows.”

“And when she doesn’t tell you shit?”

“We’ll force her.”

“In front of a beach full of people?” She sounds doubtful. “I know you’re untouchable but you can’t get away with that.”

I smirk, knowing we damn well could if we wanted to. “We’ll take her somewhere else.”

“You’re gonna drag her kicking and screaming?”

“We won’t need to put hands on her. Callie’ll make her walk all on her own.”

“How?”

“She’ll use her gun.”

Hailey’s brows jump at that, and she looks up at Callie, who’s lying on Hailey’s bed with her kindle in her hand, silent as she reads her book.

“You do not have a g?—”

Without looking at her, Callie pulls her gun out of her jeans, waving it for Hailey to see.

“Fucking hell.”

After I get done with her hair, I watch her do her makeup in the mirror, crowding her, touching her, kissing the back of her head, my heart fucking somersaulting when it makes her smile.

When she finishes, she disappears into her closet, grabs her duffel, and searches for something to wear. She walks out a few moments later wearing a sexy pair of ripped denim shorts and a white crop top, the shape of her tanned, flawless body on full display. I groan as she bends over to pull her sneakers on. Callie smirks as she eyes Hailey’s form, climbing off the bed to slip her hoodie on. “Ready?”

Hailey nods and picks her phone up off the nightstand, stopping when I block her path, take her waist, and trail my finger over her exposed belly button. She shivers when I move my hand a little higher, my knuckles grazing her ribs. I pull her against me, nipping her pale pink lips. “You’re fucking beautiful,” I whisper. “Fuck.”

Her lips lift into that smile again, the one that’s both a little shy and sexy as fuck, and it makes me tighten my grip on her, makes me want to push her down on the bed, climb on top of her, and hide her beneath me, keep her all to myself.

Shaking her head at the intent in my eyes, she pulls me out of the room, following the others downstairs. Damon glances at her twice, and Wren says, “Damn,” which earns him a smack upside the head from his husband.

When we walk into the living room, Derek lifts his head off the couch and glares at Hailey.

“Get up,” Damon says, turning the TV off before tossing the remote on the coffee table.

“No,” he says, but he’s not looking at Damon. “Absolutely fucking not.”

Hailey tilts her head at him but says nothing.

“You’re not wearing that.”

“What’s wrong with what she’s wearing?” I hook my finger into the back pocket of her shorts, fucking daring him with my eyes to say it.

He glares at me this time, as if it’s my fault she decided to wear this. “She looks like a slut.”

I manage to take a single step toward him before Hailey’s wrapping her hand around my forearm, stopping me without a single word or even a look in my direction. Nostrils flaring, I stay where I stand.

“Get off your ass,” she says to her brother, “before I drag you out of here myself.”

He laughs. “You?—”

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