Page 80 of Puck Princess

“Glad you could make it, Solomon. Take a seat.” Spencer pulls out the chair next to him.

“Santos and I go way back,” Miles explains.

“Come on, O.” Lance tugs on the back of my shirt, but I don’t cede an inch. “Let’s go.”

“You can’t be here,” I growl.

“Is Summer here?” He makes a show of looking around for her, and I could strangle him just for that. He’s never going to lay eyes on my sister again if I have anything to say about it.

When he doesn’t see her, he shrugs. “Summer has the restraining order; not you. As long as she isn’t here, I can do whatever I want.”

I slide my forearm another inch higher, enjoying way too much the way he chokes. “After what you’ve done to two women I love, you can’t even breathe near me.”

I’m prepared to see that threat through to its natural conclusion, but suddenly there are two sets of hands on my shoulders, pulling me off.

“Easy, O. Not here. Not now.” Lance’s voice is calm, but again I don’t care.

I lunge for Miles, but Lance and Dax drag me back.

“Time to get an Uber and go night-night,” Dax jokes, and I could hit him too.

But then they’re shuffling me out the door and onto the sidewalk. The fresh air does actually clear my head slightly.

I shrug them both off.

“I’m fine,” I bark out.

Lance doesn’t look convinced. “Are you, though? Because you look like you’re about to commit capital murder.”

Dax hands a twenty to somebody standing on the sidewalk and then holds open the back door of a Honda Civic for me. “This kind gentleman is going to let you have his Uber.” Dax looks over his shoulder at the man. “Thank you, sir. You’ve saved a life tonight.”

Lance is right. I want to turn around and kill Miles.

But I also want to climb into that car and head straight to Callie.

I know she’s fine. Miles is in the bar behind me. He can’t hurt her or Summer. But there’s an itch under my skin to be with her, to touch her and taste her. To make certain that she’s perfect.

I stalk towards the car with a growl. Lance tries to clap me on the back, but I shrug him off.

“You’re making the right call.”

“Shut the fuck up.” I slam the car door closed.

The driver glances nervously in the rearview mirror. “I don’t have your address in the app. I’m not supposed to— I can cancel that other ride and you can?—”

“Heights Boulevard, just off the ten,” I snap.

Before he can argue, I toss another hundred into the front seat. Spencer Santos is onto one thing, at least. Money solves a fuckton of problems.

27

CALLIE

“Is yellow too ‘The Yellow Wallpaper?’” I ask the empty, white room. The echo of my own voice makes me grimace. “If yellow paint isn’t, then talking to yourself is.”

This is my first night alone in the new place. Really, it’s my first night in the new place at all. Full stop. I’ve been in during the day to grab some clothes from the closet or take out the half-full trash can before things begin to grow and mutate in it. But at night, I’ve found myself in Owen’s bed more often than not. And on the rare occasion I’m not, I’m back on Kennedy’s couch.

Turns out, I’m not good at living alone. I gave it a try as a kid when my parents all but abandoned me most nights of the week to do whatever the hell they did instead of being parents. But once I moved in with Uncle Randy and Kenny, it’s been a steady stream of house mates since. I went from their house to being a college intern with three roommates to living with Kennedy again.

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