Page 62 of The Ruthless Note

His arm brushes mine when he turns to me. “You don’t have to be scared. I’m not going to tell Dutch.”

“Dutch already knows.”

His eyebrows jump. Then he nods to himself as if that explains something.

I prod, “Dutch doesn’t tell you all his deepest darkest secrets?”

“We’re all entitled to our secrets. Even you, Cooper.”

I glance up at the sound of understanding in his voice. He’s the complete opposite of Dutch and his brothers, which feels strange given they’re an obviously tight-knit group.

Moonlight falls over his jet-black hair, chocolate-brown eyes and the jaw line that could chip glass. Standing, Sol would tower over me, but sitting side-by-side like this, he feels reachable.

“Why did you escape out here?” I ask.

He surveys the sprawling bushes in the backyard. I follow his gaze, noting the way the flowers are dancing in the breeze.

“I guess, in a way, I was just like you. Wearing a mask. A costume. I needed time to take it off.”

“What do you mean? Aren’t these your people?” I sweep my hand out at the party.

“Nah. I’m a scholarship kid. Like you.”

My eyes widen. I should have known that. He mentioned growing up in my neighborhood, but I assumed that once he moved out, it was to go and live in the fancy gated communities like this.

“I’ve been out of Redwood for a while,” Sol admits, “but now that I’m back, it’s not settling on my skin the way it used to. I can’t quite find my place anymore.”

“Your place is with The Kings. It’s kind of obvious.”

His lips quirk up. “What about you? Where’s your place, Cadence Cooper?”

“My place is wherever the bills are paid and there’s a roof over my sister’s head.”

“Don’t you have a dream of your own?”

“Who has time for dreams?” I roll my eyes. “You can’t keep the lights on with it. You can’t pay the bank. You can’t put food on the table.”

“Now you sound more jaded than my abuela.”

“I prefer to think of myself as a realist.”

“Pessimist,” he challenges.

“Agree to disagree.”

He laughs.

I smile back, enjoying the sound of it.

His phone chimes.

“It’s from Dutch,” Sol says, checking the screen. “He’s looking for you.”

At once, every bone in my body goes rigid. “That’s my cue to leave.”

Sol climbs to his feet. I stand and face him. Through the balcony doors, I can see the elites of Redwood Prep dancing together. They look so happy, so carefree.

“Do you ever just want to… burn it all down?” I murmur.

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