Page 51 of Chaos at Westbrook High

I feel like a piece of shit for all the things I’ve said and thought about her over the last few months. All this time, I thought she cheated on Damon with my brother. I thought she was just another girl using a Kingston for the life he could give her. Like Freya Thorne, Wren’s ex-girlfriend, who really did fuck Derek behind Wren’s back. And Katherine Kingston, Callie’s witch of a mother and Elijah’s ex-wife, the woman who’d been sleeping with Derek since he was a minor, right up until the day she went to prison for three murders, the boys’ mom being one of them.

When Callie’s amusement dies and she watches me intently, I tuck my feet up under my thighs and grab one of the decorative pillows beside me. Pulling it onto my lap, I play with the daisy pattern on it to give my hands something to do. Just as I’m trying to think of something to say to Callie, she says, “It’s this shop.”

“What?” I ask, lifting my eyes to hers.

“That’s what Elijah has on you.” She eyes the pillow I’m holding before moving her eyes over the walls and shelves. “Do you own this place?”

“No,” I reply. “Elijah does.”

“The fuck?” Kai mutters beside me.

“But it’s still yours,” Levi says. He’s leaning back on the couch with his husband tucked into his side, running his hand through Wren’s hair. “Or it will be, so long as you stay at Westbrook like Elijah wants you to?”

I nod reluctantly, finding it a little strange to watch another version of Kai laying back against Levi’s chest. I’ve never met a pair of identical twins before. It’s freaky how similar they are and damn near impossible to tell them apart. I think I’m starting to get it though. Kai always has that little spark in his eyes when he looks at me, like he’s planning something wild and filthy, whereas Wren doesn’t. He’s the quiet one, the one who shows the least amount of emotion, if any. That should probably scare me. The quiet ones are usually the most dangerous, but that’s not the case with Wren. At least I don’t think it is. He doesn’t look very dangerous over there. He looks like a damn cat, so calm and blissed-out as if Levi’s touch is the only thing he needs to settle him.

My heart softens despite myself, and I smile a little. Good for him. I mean, I still don’t like him, and fuck him for giving Kai my number, but it’s kind of nice to see him so content after how broken he looked the night I found him at the cemetery not so long ago.

“Who’s Valerie?” Levi asks, tilting his head toward the sign on the window.

I stiffen, and Kai curses under his breath. “Your aunt,” he guesses. “Fuck, Hailey.” When he wraps an arm around my waist and tries to pull me into him, I reach out and grab his jaw, holding him away from me. Not just because we’re in public, but because if he hugs me right now, I’ll cry again.

Damon’s jaw is tight as his gaze bounces between me and my hand on his brother's face. “How did she die?” Damon asks.

I swallow as my eyes start to sting. “Car accident,” I lie.

“Sounds familiar,” Damon mutters. “What really happened to your mother?”

My eyes close briefly as a traitorous tear slips free.

“Answer me?—”

“Damon,” Kai growls. “Knock it off.”

“Was she killed?”

Removing his jaw from my grip, Kai leans forward and pins his brother with a glare that rival’s Damon’s. “I swear to God, brother,” he warns, his hand sliding into mine between our thighs. “Watch your fucking tone with her.”

Silence follows, and I try to wiggle my hand out of his, but he doesn’t let me go. He holds me tighter, flexing his fingers between mine as he wedges our joined hands between my legs, resting against my pussy. My face heats as I tighten my grip on the pillow. When he runs his thumb over the spot where my tattoo is, I peek up at him.

“Relax,” he whispers, touching his forehead to the brim of my ball cap. “No one can see.”

His siblings most definitely can, but still, I don’t try to move his hand. It feels good there, though I’ll never admit that. The smirk on his face tells me he knows it anyway.

Damon’s still leaning forward with his forearms on his knees, waiting for answers. “Was she killed?” he asks again, softer this time.

“What do you think?”

“I think she was, and I think you know who did it. I know you know.”

“How?”

“Because it’s written all over your face,” he informs me. “You’re afraid of him.”

Him.

I swallow past the lump in my throat, unable to help the way my eyes dart to the windows and back. James went home to get some sleep after he dropped me off, but he introduced me to another one of the guards before he left and assured me he’d be out there watching the place until James returns later today. Still, I can’t help the paranoia creeping up my spine. If those guys managed to slip past a trained bodyguard once, they can do it again. It’s just a matter of time. And I can’t rely on a guard to save me. I need to be ready to run. Fight if I need to. Anything to ensure he never gets his hands on me.

“You know it wasn’t us who attacked Derek in the hospital that day,” Damon goes on, and I search his face, pissed at my lying bastard of a brother when I realize he’s probably telling the truth.

---