Page 188 of Crew
He swore, raking a hand through his hair. "You didn't know?"
"How would I?"
He wasn't the only one reeling. I was sucker-punched in the diaphragm.
I didn't want him here. Ever. But especially not now, not after I was with Cross, not after we'd just had a moment. I didn't want any of that shattered, and if I knew this guy, he'd sniff it out like a bloodhound.
"--until they get back. I have an announcement to make."
We had to go. I wasn't going to hide from this, whatever it was.
Jordan and Zellman were positioned just down our path, a few yards past the larger group. They knew we'd gone this way. They knew we'd return this way. As if sensing us, Jordan looked back. Z too.
Each of them wore a blank expression, but I could see their surprise. They were as shocked as us, just guarded.
"I know the Ryerson crew has only had a leader who's in high school--"
The crowd shifted.
When people saw us, they moved, opening an entire section of the ring so we had front row seats to the person standing in front. His arms were up, as if he were holding court or giving a sermon.
With his back to a truck's headlights, his crew lined up behind him like a backdrop, stood a Ryerson I hoped I'd never see again.
Drake Ryerson.
Alex's brother, and my ex. The same guy who'd quit, lived with Race for a summer, and talked all about how he hated the crew system. The same guy who'd wanted to mess with us by telling Race to push for a friendship with us. The same guy who knew we wouldn't take to that.
He still looked like Race, with the same round face, but he seemed to have aged. His face was scruffy, and he was more built, as if he'd been lifting weights in his time away. Dark hair. Dark eyes. A sneer I used to think was attractive, mixed with a twinkle in his eye, and a dimple in his cheek that he used as a weapon.
He was an asinine fucker. That's what he was.
He turned, mid-speech, and his eyes locked on mine. "I was approached earlier in the year by a member of Monroe's crew, and I thought long and hard about it. After finding out what my little brother had been up to, and how my cousin was now here but not joining, I decided to make an executive decision." He paused, a grin pulling at the corner of his lip. He finished as if he were speaking just to me. "I'm coming back, and I'm taking my old position. I'm taking over the Ryerson crew again. They're no longer without a leader."
Half the group was watching me instead of him.
He knew it, adding after a beat, "Hey, Bren."
He stepped toward us, but faltered when Jordan and Zellman closed ranks so they were standing in front of me.
Chuckling, he walked over.
The show was over. It was like he'd dropped an invisible cue, and everyone began talking at once. Or most did. The few who had eyes on us and were within hearing distance, tried to edge closer. A couple girls strained their necks. Some of the guy Normals were watching too, sipping their beers as if they weren't gawking like the rest.
He stopped right in front of Jordan and Z. "I'm not just here for her, you know. I'm here for all of you."
Jordan folded his arms over his chest. Z dropped his head lower, ready to fight.
"Cross."
Cross ignored that greeting from Drake, watching me instead. His hand touched mine, and he lowered his voice. "What do you want to do?"
"I come in peace," Drake said. "I have a gift for your crew. Your entire crew."
I hated it, but we had to hear him out.
Cross cleared his throat.
Jordan and Zellman shifted, presenting Cross to my ex.
