Page 50 of Sorrow

And because of those choices, I’ve put my Hurricane in danger.

The sound of tires squealing away is our first indication that something really is off. No one speeds away from a scene unless they did something wrong, so I’m not surprised at all when I see smoke billowing up through my peephole.

They will not light my fucking house on fire.

I yank the door open against Boo’s advice, kicking the wicker basket over without asecond thought. As I stomp out the flames, I catch sight of what’s inside of it.

Pink lingerie.

“What the fuck?” Boo asks. “Why the fuck would they burn that of all things?”

I shrug, but I know exactly why they chose to burn pink lingerie. It’s a threat for her.

It seems to click in Boo’s mind a second later, leaving behind a string of curses as he rushes over to his car like he’s about to chase them down.

“Wait!” I yell. “Mine. Not yours.”

He can’t drive around this town with murder in his eyes in his fucking cruiser, so without a second thought, I yell to let Samara know we’ll be back and tell her to to stay in the room.

I don’t have time to do anything else but follow him.

21

It doesn’t take a detective to realize something just happened with The Sons. The way Hayes shoved me back in the room, the cursing, tires squealing, and the two of them running off without saying much of anything to me? Yeah, The Sons did something, or maybe just Tristan. I might obey Hayes when the sun is down, but it’s early evening right now and the house is still illuminated with daylight, and that means I answer to no one but myself.

Once I’m sure they’re gone, I head out to the living room to see what happened. Nothing seems out of place in here or the foyer. The doorbell rang, so that’s my next stop. My blood runs cold when I see the charred remains of pink lingerie. The same one I bought for Nate but wore for Hayes.

Tristan doesn’t have the balls to do something like this, though he’s the one who saw us at Pandora’s Box. Maybe he doesn’t hate his older brother quite as much as I thought.

A little sick to my stomach, I clean up the mess and head back to the kitchen to figure out what to do. I could wait patiently here for Hayes to come back, beg him to fuck me, and then deal with the consequences after... or I could fake it. Chances are I won’t bleed again, and even if I do, I have a couple of ideas on how to deal with it without Nate ever knowing. I can do this. The faster I seal this deal, the more protection I’ll have and the less Boo will have to worry about me. We’re getting into dangerous territory that I fear will only end one way unless I take myself out of the equation.

It’s time.

My fingers tremble as I pick up my phone to call Nate, deciding the quicker I get an answer, the better. It’s so loud when he answers I can barely hear him.

“Sammy, what’s up?”

Music blares and people laugh loudly at some joke I can’t hear. “Hi. I uh... was wondering what you were doing. I’m not a virgin anymore.”

Straight to the point.

“What?” he yells. “Sorry, it’s crazy here. What’d you say?”

God, this is embarrassing. “I said I’m not a virgin anymore!”

He drops his phone, scrambling to pick it back up. “Shit. Sweet, you wanna come over? I’m a little drunk, but I can still get it up.”

Charming. So, so fucking charming.

“Yeah, I’ll be there in ten.”

Hanging up, I move before I can talk myself out of it. I can’t look at the pink lingerie now without thinking of The Sons, Hayes, and everything wrong with my life, so that’s exactly what I choose. It’s a little wrinkled but I don’t see any stains, and it fits under a loose t-shirt and athletic shorts without too much fluff. At least this way, I won’t forget for a second why I’m doing this.

It’s way too cold out for shorts as I start my truck and drive over, but I’m so overheated from anticipation, adrenaline, and pre-emptive embarrassment that I don’t feel the chill at all. It’s not until I pull onto Nate’s street and realize there’s nowhere to park that I start to regret the choice.

I end up parking two streets over and cutting through backyards to get there. I’m shivering when I let myself in, ignoring thethrong of people so tight I brush up against almost all of them in my search for Nate. It’s a bit early for a party like this. It’s not a holiday or anything like that, and it’s not quite close enough to the date he’s leaving for it to be some kind of farewell bash. Maybe this is just how people like him live. People with friends, with family. With futures. People with absolutely nothing better to do than get drunk as hell on a fucking weekday.

Must be nice.

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