Page 72 of Don't You Pucking Dare

"I know what you said earlier about my mom." My throat feels raw. "I’m sorry. I didn’t call the cops, but did the guys say anything?"

"They're searching Kemper's properties." He turns his head so I can hear him clearly. "Including car trunks."

The casual way he says it makes my stomach turn. "You really think he'd—"

"I think Rick Kemper was capable of anything." He shakes his head. "It’s not like I knew the guy, but you saw him for yourself."

The idea burns my eyes. If my mom’s still tied up in a trunk, I’m a fucking coward for not searching for her. And if she’s free, then I know I won’t be hearing from her. She’ll find drugs as soon as possible.

"She really gets to you, doesn't she?" Brody faces me now. I don’t know if that’s the sound of concern or curiosity. Maybe he’s calling me out because it’s written all over my face.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I ask.

"Your mom." He leans back on the headboard. "The addict whore who can't get her shit together."

The tears evaporate, replaced by razor-sharp clarity. "What the fuck, Brody? You think you know me now? You’re the one with mommy issues. Where's your mom these days, Brody?"

His laugh holds no humor. "Last I heard she was fucking her way across Europe. Guess we both won the mother lottery."

"Is that what this is?" I gesture between us. "You picked the girl with mommy issues to match your own, and now we get to battle with whoever has it worse?"

"You're the one who won’t be quiet about your mom." But he doesn't deny it.

I lean forward. "She was in a fucking trunk, Brody!" I grab my phone, pull up the images, and shove it in his face. The images make me dizzy.

Brody looks at them and shrugs. His eyes to cut to mine again. "Did you let Rick Kemper in?"

I shake my head. "He’s full of shit."

He grabs my neck again, staring into my eyes. This is a dangerous game.

"This time," he whispers, "you’re not going to lie to me. Did. You. Let. Him. In?"

"No. I did not."

He releases me, and I sink back into the pillows, head pounding. "I just want to go back to my life. I want to get out of here."

His anger has simmered down, so I think he finally trusts that I’m telling the truth. "It's fall break. No one's gonna know a thing."

I roll my eyes. "Don't you have hockey practice or something? A game coming up?"

"Break applies to everyone."

"My head's killing me," I mumble into the pillow.

"Chloroform's a bitch." He doesn't apologize. We both know he'd do it again if he had to. "Try to sleep it off."

I turn away from him, curling into myself. His hand finds my hair anyway, fingers working through the tangles like he has the right. Like he isn't the reason I'm here.

But he's also the reason I'm alive. That's the problem with Brody Black—he's both the poison and the cure.

Chapter 31

Two days in this mansion feel like two weeks. Lola sleeps through most of it, the cocktail of drugs we used hitting her harder than expected. I watch her sometimes, trying to find traces of grief for her father, but there's nothing. She's as empty of feeling for Rick Kemper as I am for my mother.

Maybe that's why I can't stop wanting her. Other girls cry, break, run away when they see the darkness in me. But Lola? She matches it, carries her own shadows without apology. When I take her, rough and demanding, she gives as good as she gets. Her demons dance with mine.

The morning we get clearance to leave, I'm shoving clothes into my bag when she finally stirs. Her hair's a mess across my pillow, but her eyes are clear for the first time in days.

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