Page 3 of Sorrow

I’ve had better.

Maybe I deserved that. Maybe I’ve deserved every single thing he’s ever said to me, but he deserves a lot worse than I can ever give him.

I don’t bother following them.

I eat my sad little sloppy joe in the safety of the kitchen and check my phone like there’s a single chance in hell that Nate texted me.

He didn’t, which just proves my brother and that walking fuckstick right.

Luckily for me, they never have to know. I think I’ve suffered enough.

2

There’s a half-naked lumbering jackass on my couch when I wake up. For a moment, I fantasize about kicking him or maybe smothering him with a pillow — it just doesn’t take long for my traitorous brain to switch up on me. Seeing him like this, silent and sleeping, really makes it hard to look past how attractive he is. I’ve always known it. Boo and Hayes might have six years on me, but I developed a raging crush on Hayes pretty much the moment I hit puberty.

It didn’t last long.

Hayes had no business acknowledging my existence, yet he made it a personal goal to make my life a living hell. Pulling my pigtails, locking me in closets, saying whatever he could to hurt me. I remember one night, a boy I liked asked me to a school dance andHayes bullied him for it so badly that he took the invitation back. I sat at home while the rest of my friends had the time of their lives, and I swore to myself that one day, I’d get revenge.

Of course, as I grew up, I realized that the best way to get back at Hayes was to pretend he didn’t exist. Guys like that survive on attention, be it good or bad. He thinks that his rippling muscles, strong jaw, smoldering eyes and tousled hair will get him whatever he wants in life, and maybe he’s right. Most of the time. But no amount of good looks can make up for a rotten soul.

“Why are you staring at him?”

I jerk so violently, my neck cracks. “What?” Whipping around, I come face to face with a very judgmental Boo. “I wasn’t staring athim,I was trying to figure out where the hell I’m supposed to sit since he takes up the entire couch and his feet hang over the recliner.”

Boo shakes his head. “Whatever. I have to go back to work, will you be okay here?”

Okay? Alone with Hayes when he wakes up? I’ve never met a man who was less of a morning person, and I’m his favorite little punching bag. “I’ll be fine. Why are you going back so early?”

“They’re switching me to nights. I guess being the youngest detective in Cape Frost’s history means nothing to them, but whatever. This is my last day shift at least until The Sons are caught.”

Frowning, I pay a little closer attention to the lines on his face and the fear he’s trying to hide. I’ve never really noticed before.

The Sons are exactly what they sound like: the descendants of Cape Frost’s founding fathers. They think because their families were here first, they’re untouchable, and so far they have been. Carter Jennings, Ricky Madoff, and Holt Turner have been terrorizing the town for months now — from armed robbery to arson, they’ve been leaving a trail of violence in their wake that no one seems to be able to stop.

I love Boo, but I’m not sure what they expect him to do about it. Most people think they’re the ones responsible for all the bodies turning up in Bleak River, and if that’s true, I really don’t want my brother tangling with them. He’s all I’ve got.

“Just be careful, okay? Please.”

Squeezing my shoulder tightly, he offers me a pursed smile and makes his way toward the door. The loud creak and thud that follow wakes the sleeping giant on thecouch, and my mood sours even further. “Hayes.”

It’s the only greeting I offer him as I turn to head back to my bedroom, but it’s not in his nature to simply let me walk away.

Before I can even close my door, he’s right behind me shoving his way into my bedroom and climbing into my bed like he wasn’t done sleeping. His legs still poke out of the bottom of the comforter, but even I can see how much more comfortable this is for him. “You can go start your shift watching reality tv now.”

He nuzzles his face into my pillow and settles in, making me want to set the entire bed on fire with him in it. “They’re documentaries, not trashy reality shows. It’s not like I received the best education around here. Maybe you should’ve watched a couple, your last five brain cells wouldn’t have committed suicide.”

He surprisingly snorts a laugh, but that’s where his amusement ends. “Stop being rude. I’m sleeping, Naggy Simpson.”

Seeing him in my bed of all places is jarring to say the least — like spotting an iguana on an igloo. It shouldn’t be allowed by nature. Still, the way the muscles in his biceps bulge as he curls his arms under hishead makes heat stir in my stomach. I’ve never had a man in my room before except for Boo.

“Don’t you have a job?” I mutter. “Or your own bed to go to?”

“You really should be nicer to your guests. I make my own hours, not that it’s any of your business.”

He moves my pillow on top of his head to drown me out, but I know he can still hear me. I’ve tried to do the same thing on the nights my brother brought a girl home, and my thin pillow does nothing to block out noise.

Ignore him. Ignore him... ignore him. “Are rats considered guests?” I mumble under my breath. Then, louder, “It’s my business when you’re in my bed, but fine. Go to sleep. I’ll burn the sheets later.”

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