Page 22 of Chaos at Westbrook High

“What are you thinking about?”

“Your fat ass in those sweats.” My voice comes out quieter than usual, so I wink at her for good measure.

She rolls her eyes at my bullshit and bats my hands away from my chest. I almost wish she wouldn’t touch me right now because I’m about to cry over my dead mom, and I don’t want her to think I’m getting all worked up over that traitorous coffee girl, but I’m still grateful when she wraps her arms around my waist and tucks in close under my chin.

Damon looks over at us just as I touch the back of her head and hold her to me, his eyes softening just a tiny bit before he continues punching the bag in the middle of the room, full of anger and pissed at the world for reasons similar to mine. Levi’s holding the bag for him, flinching at every hard hit, and Wren’s lying back on one of the weight benches beside them, not lifting anything, just sprawled out with his feet planted on either side of it, his forearms resting on his head.

No one’s said much of anything since we got home, because what is there to say? She fucking left with him. Derek Kingston, our cousin and someone I considered my best friend next to Damon and Wren up until I was fourteen. Despite being brothers, our dads have been enemies for almost their entire lives, but not us and Derek. Not back then. He was one of us. He’s the guy who used to come over here and mess around on the court with us every time he’d had enough of his dad’s shit. The guy who suddenly turned on us for no good fucking reason when we started high school. The guy who fucked Wren’s girlfriend. The guy who hurt Callie. The guy who probably goes to bed with a smile on his face every night because he gets to date my fucking girl.

I hate him even more for that.

And I hate her too.

Kind of.

Because even after what she did today, I still want her more than any girl I’ve ever wanted. I still want to pin her down and lose myself inside her. But now I also want to wrap my hand around her throat and squeeze until her eyes leak with pretty tears.

Just then, Callie looks up at my face, her hazel eyes wide and filled with amusement. I loosen my grip on her neck when I realize I’m damn near choking her.

Jesus.

I clear my throat. “Sorry, Callie.”

“It’s okay.” She laughs, running her hand over the spot.

“Kai, did you just?—”

“Damon.” Callie cuts him off, grabbing a towel and tossing it at him. “You’re done.”

He sighs angrily and wipes his wet head with it, glaring when he catches me grabbing my shirt from the bench next to Wren, pulling it on before I head for the doors. He’s not pissed at me for touching his wife like that. I’d already be on my back on the mat if he was, so he must be pissed at me for something else.

“Where’re you going?” he asks.

“To get some water.”

“There’s water over there.” He points to the fully stocked fridge in the corner.

“Vodka then.”

“Fucker, don’t even think about it,” he calls after me. I don’t think he’s talking about vodka.

I push the doors open and make my way down the hall to the kitchen, stopping at the minibar in the living room. I’ve never lied to my big brother, and I’m not about to start now. Grabbing a bottle of vodka, I twist the cap off and look around at the huge, open plan penthouse I’ve lived in since I was a baby. My gaze catches on the marble fireplace I cracked my tooth on when I was five. Derek was too rough with me one time when we were playfighting, and I was the cocky little shit who thought I could beat him. I couldn’t. When I look up at the staircase, I remember the way we used to slide down the railing while my mom shouted at us about breaking our necks. It didn’t matter how many times we fell on our asses, we never learned.

My nostrils flare at all the memories, and I take a little swig of vodka. Ignoring Damon’s voice coming down the hallway, I set the bottle down on the bar head for the elevator.

I know I shouldn’t defy him like this, but I’m not thinking straight. All I can think about is how it all suddenly makes sense. The way Hailey looked at me the first time I walked into that coffee shop. The fact that she can barely stand to be in the same room with me. The fact that she hates me…

It’s all because of him.

I park my car a couple blocks from where I’m headed because it’s loud, bright yellow, and I’m trying to be inconspicuous, then walk the rest of the way. In the ten minutes it took me to drive over here, I’ve gone from mad to I’m going to fucking bury him mad. I’m looking for a fight, a messy one that ends with me on top and my cousin on the ground beneath me.

My dad calls just as I round the last corner, but I ignore him, trying to act like I belong in this neighborhood while I look across at the four story apartment building Hailey lives in. It's nice enough, I guess. I mean, it’s no Kingston Palace, but the streets are clean, the little lawns well-kept, and there’s a large park across the street surrounded by trees, a few parents with their kids playing, and a couple people walking their dogs.

My dad calls again, and I cut him off. He won’t like that, but I don’t give a fuck right now. All I can think about is finding Derek and making him bleed.

As I get closer to the entrance, I glance at the Aston Martin parked outside and stop walking, sneering when I find Hailey bent over on the back seat of Derek’s car.

Hailey Louise Lawson. That’s her name. I know because Wren and I found it in the same place we found her address, along with her date of birth and a fat load of nothing else. Her parents aren't listed on her file, and neither are her emergency contacts, meaning whoever got her into Westbrook has a lot of money and the ability to make Principal Greene look the other way. My uncle comes to mind—Maverick Kingston, Derek’s father and my dad’s younger brother—but last I heard, Derek was hiding from him too. Why would Maverick pay for some girl his son is fucking to go to school? It makes no sense. Unless she’s more than that…

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