Page 71 of Repairing the Wreckage

Fuck Torch’s feelings. What about Molly? “Does she know?”

Remy scowls. “Fuck no.”

Now I’m pissed for two reasons. “So, once again, you think fucking with your sister’s head is the right move? Are you for real?”

One corner of his mouth tilts to the side. “I thought you’d be happy.”

“That she doesn’t know she’s fake-dating Torch?” Did he lose his mind while I was away? “No, Remy, that doesn’t make me happy at all.”

“Look, we know Torch,” Remy says as if he still thinks he can talk me into believing this is a good thing. “And you weren’t here. Every time I turned around guys were coming onto her. And she doesn’t even realize it?—”

“How stupid do you think your sister is?”

“Not stupid. But about guys and their intentions…” He shrugs. “She’s a little naive.”

Molly will be furious if she finds out. Worse, she’ll be so hurt and embarrassed. What was Remy thinking?

“You couldn’t have warned me about this brilliant plan sooner?” I ask. “Maybe when you dragged me out of bed this afternoon?”

“I…” He hesitates, his gaze darting across the track toward where Molly’s standing talking to Hayden now. “I didn’t think he’d be here with her tonight. Otherwise…”

“You wouldn’t have told me to come.” Seems Remy lost control of the situation he thinks he orchestrated. “That’s just fucking great.”

Torch would’ve heard by now that I’m home. He had to at least suspect I’d show up. And he still chose to escort my girl to this party.

“I can’t deal with you right now.” I sweep my arm against his chest and walk past him.

“Don’t make a scene.” He grabs my arm and yanks me backward.

“I won’t.” Just going to claim my girl and kick Torch’s ass if he gets in my way.

“Here.” He sweeps a stupid Ghostface mask out of his back pocket and slaps it against my chest. “If you’re really not supposed to have people post your picture online, put that on.”

I stare at the black fabric hood and white rubber face with black eyes and nose, and the mouth stretched wide into a permanent creepy imitation of a scream. “Did you wear it?”

“Earlier.”

“Great, so it smells like dog breath?” I mutter as I slip it over my head.

“Woof, woof, dickhead.”

I can barely see out of the dark fabric covering the eyeholes. “This is bullshit.”

I’m not even complaining about the stupid mask. It’s everything. The show still controlling my every move. Molly still blocking my texts and calls. My friends thinking I’m an asshole. Losing to a jackass like Naptime—when I know I’m a better fighter. Molly “dating” Torch.

Whatever timeline I’ve been dropped into sucks. I want my life back.

Feeling like an asshole with only my red plaid coat, jeans, and boots to go with the mask, I navigate my way across the asphalt, heading for the racetrack and the food shacks behind it.

I recognize a few people but don’t bother saying hello. Molly. She’s all that matters. I need to get her someplace quiet so we can talk. I need her in my arms. I need to bury my face in her hair and inhale her. Taste her skin. Hear her voice.

Torch, that red-headed motherfucker, took off his wolf mask, leaving his stupid orange hair sticking up all over the place. He’s still standing way too close to my girl. Thank fuck he’s not actually touching her. I’d hate to ruin the party by ripping off his arm and beating him with it in front of everyone.

My boots crunch over a few loose stones, drawing Torch’s attention as I close in on them. The corners of his mouth turn down. This mask isn’t fooling anyone. I yank it off my head and glare at him as I approach.

Molly turns her head. Even with the black bunny mask blocking my view, our eyes lock. Her mouth falls open and she takes a step back.

No. No. No.

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