Page 130 of Chaos at Westbrook High

“That’s not what I heard,” I say bluntly. “I know about Killian Matthews and Frank Whitlock.” Levi’s father and his friend, the men who hurt Callie and Levi. “They’re dead.”

Surprised, he looks at Kai and the others, then me. “They didn’t kill them.”

“They beat them, put holes in them, and left them to bleed out. It’s the same thing.”

Refusing to argue with me over a technicality, he says no more about it. He knows I’m right though. His children are killers. All of them. And maybe it makes me a terrible person, but the way I feel about them hasn’t changed because of it. If anything, I like them more for it. I’m happy those men are in the ground where they belong.

“I can ensure Maverick spends the rest of his life in prison,” Elijah states, still looking at me when he adds, “He will never touch any of you again.”

“You can’t guarantee that.” I shake my head. “There is no evidence, Elijah. He’s been getting away with murder for my entire life. Maybe longer.”

“I’ll find it,” he promises.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Stealing Callie’s gun and putting a bullet in Maverick’s stomach,” I say to Kai over my shoulder while I fold my jeans on his bed. I barely use my own room anymore. All my clothes are in his closet. My toothbrush is in his bathroom. I even brought my favorite picture of me and Val in here and put it on the nightstand on my side of the bed.

He raises a brow at me.

“What? That would be badass. Admit it.”

He chuckles. “Why his stomach?”

“It’d make his death slower. More painful.”

Pulling me back into him, he buries his face into my hair. “You’re a little bit of a psycho, aren’t you? That’s hot.”

I dip my head and smile like a fool.

I don’t miss the way he never takes his eyes off me, the way he likes touching some part of me at all times, his apparent obsession with me…

I like it more than I should.

“Are you really obsessed with me?”

“Yes,” he rasps.

“It wasn’t just a joke?”

“No.”

I chew my lip. I think somehow, against my better judgment, I’ve become obsessed with him too.

My mouth opens, and I almost tell him so, but I stop myself just in time.

“I can feel you holding back, you know?” he whispers, and I go completely still. “I know you’re falling for me, even if you don’t want to, but you won’t let me see it. Why?”

Because I’m terrified.

When the chase is over, when this thing between us is no longer new and fun and exciting for him, I worry he won’t want me anymore, that he’ll toss me aside and move on to someone else. And I’ll be the dumbass who gets left behind to pick up the pieces of my broken heart.

Removing his arms from my waist, I forget my laundry and turn around to face him fully, studying his face, his perfect jaw, his baby blue eyes…

“Tell me about the daisies, Hails.”

“No.”

“Please.”

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