Page 122 of Home to the Hollow

Week One

Standing on this porch brings back a flood of memories.

After the whole Catastrophe nonsense, Jolene didn’t come to school for a week. Because I was close to emerging, I had sessions with Andromeda Bane several times a week, and during one of them, she asked me to take Jolene’s missed work to their house. I could have said no and she wouldn’t have been able to force me, but I was struggling with the guilt of what we allowed to happen at that stupid ball. The guys and I were usually good at checking the girls when they were about to step over the line from mean girl shit to ruthless bullying, but this time, we failed.

We were self-entitled rich kids too concerned with getting high and partying to realize our female counterparts were out for blood. I’ve carried the guilt over it for years—I didn’t socialize with Jolene after elementary school because of the strict lines drawn in the sand, but I knew she didn’t deserve what she got for trying to help someone who wasn’t as strong as her. Her kind heart was her downfall, and it never sat right with me; I just didn’t have the power to fix it back then.

When Bobbi Jo asked me to deliver these papers, that knot of guilt made its way from the back of my mind straight to my gut, and I don’t know how to feel. Honestly, I can’t believe the brass set on this girl for moving back to this pit of vipers willingly. She certainly hasn’t lost the spark that made her slam the door in my face when I brought her homework all those years ago. When she saw me, the look on her face was so outraged that I thought she actually might emerge in front of me, but she didn’t. Jolene simply slid her eyes up and down my frame and gave me a look that promised vengeance before the door rattled the entire porch.

Even then, it was pretty hot. Jolene didn’t give a damn who I was or where I came from—only that I wasn’t even worth speaking to.

I’ve always had a thing for women who stand up to my bullshit, and even more so if I can tame them in private. Reaching out, I ring the doorbell, waiting to see what hellfire I get for daring to grace her home once again. It’s possible she’s let go of the past and that’s why she could come home, but given her temper back then, I highly doubt it. When she doesn’t answer, I push it again, determined to see what all the fuss in town is about.

Jolene Athena Whitley will not hide from me. I have a job to do and maybe, just maybe, amends to make.

“I’m coming! Hold your effing bits, I have to get decent!”

My lips curve up as she huffs from inside.There’sthe fire I remember—this is going to be a lot of fun. I ring the bell again just to be a dick, and I can hear the frustrated growl as feet stomp to the door. It flies open with the force of a tornado, and when it does, Jolene doesnotdisappoint.

Despite my casual posture, her skin pales, and I know she didn’t look before she yanked it open. She had no idea it was me, and now she’s speechless, which is kind of cute. I smirk at her, deciding to play along with whatever image she has of me so I can gauge what’s changed in the decade she was gone. “Well, well, well. Looks like the Cotillion Catastrophe is all grown up.”

Jolene crosses her arms over her chest, looking at me like I’m something scraped off the bottom of her shoe on the horse farm. “Buona notte, Edgar. What brings you to the slums this evening?”

I just grin at her more, enchanted by the attitude. Raking a hand through my hair, I shrug, knowing I’m preening a little to see if she notices. “Aw, Tilly, are you still holding a grudge about that stupid coming out party? It’s been over a decade.”

Her expression changes to confusion when I don’t spit back at her, and she lets out a sigh of irritation. “Edgar, it’s late. I’ve been working all day, and I’m relaxing before a week filled with similarly exhausting days unpacking. You can’t seriously think I want to stand on my porch in my pajamas rehashing the past with you.”

Thatgets my attention, and I squint, taking in her attire slowly. Perfectly painted toenails, long legs in short, silky pajama shorts with water lilies on them, and… ooh, a belly ring. It sparkles in the porch light as I trace the contours of beautiful tattoo work that climbs up her left side until I can’t quite make it out under the lacy bralette. She’s trying to hide her discomfort at my perusal of her soft curves—real curves, not sculpted and enhanced lines like most of the women in the Hollow—so when I reach her face and look into eyes so green they shine like emeralds, I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. I don’t know why I feel like comforting her; it’s not my typical style, but I know I want that insecure look on her face to go away.

Jolene huffs and smacks my hand away, making me grin. “Ooh! Feisty. I like it.”

And I do, though she probably doesn’t believe me.

She tilts her head, cracking her neck as she gives another supremely annoyed look. “Edgar, I won’t ask you again. You have five seconds to explain why the cock-gobbling fuck you’re here or I’m slamming this door in your face.”

Hot damn, this woman is fucking perfect. How in the hell am I going to keep her from slamming the door in my face again?Maybe I’ll try to make her laugh.

“Language, Tilly. It’s not befitting a lady of your stature.”

“Five… four…”

That didn’t work.

I hold up my hands in surrender, looking sheepish as she stares at me. “Okay, okay. Bobbi Jo had paperwork to send your way today, and like a true gentleman, I offered to deliver it in person.”

“Oh, Edgar. My friends here say that’s a lie. Try again. Three… two…”

Her weird cat snarls at me and I have to stop focusing on her for a moment to tamp down the hound. He’s a grumpy son of a bitch, and of my trio of supe sides, he has the worst temper. Once I get that settled, I realize she’s speaking and have to force myself to figure out what she said while I was keeping the fire inside of me from escaping. “Sweet baby Jesus, Tilly. Call off the little shits.”

I reach into my back pocket slowly, pulling out the bent folder Bobbi Jo gave me. I wait until she sees it, then look down at the huge ass cats by her side to see if their puffed up tails have receded. The last thing I need is for what appears to be her companions attacking me. Kali and Hecate would feel it and race here so fast it would make you thinktheywere hellhounds, not me.

“I’m only shading the truth a smidge. I was at the diner after you left today—listening to the buzz as usual—and Bobbi Jo came in. She said she was going to run these out to you, and I asked her to allow me. I was curious about the whispers, I’ll admit.”

Jolene sighs as if I’m the most tiresome thing she’s ever dealt with before gesturing to the porch furniture. “Okay, Edgar. Have a seat on the veranda and I’ll look. I’m gonna go get a pen and my drink. Would you like a bourbon? I unpacked the bar yesterday.”

Score. Bobbi Jo’s little errand gave me a way in, and I could kiss her clueless face for it.

Giving the gorgeous woman in front of me my most charming smile, I nod. “Single barrel, sugar? Neat.”

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