Page 3 of The Pact

“You’re a whore, Mila,”she’d hissed quietly into my ear as she grabbed my wrist tightly, digging her perfect French manicure into my skin.

Pulling back, she glanced behind me, where the staff waited for me to board, and dabbed under her eye with her finger.

I rolled my eyes, so glad to be done with her theatrics. Looking her in the eye, I grinned wickedly. “I learned from the best, Mother. Thought you would be proud.”

Dad pulls into the driveway of my childhood home. It looks the same as it did the day I left. The shrubs have grown, but apart from that, it’s the same. White with a blue door. My heart swells at the sight. I didn't know I’d be this emotional at seeing the house. But I am. This is my home.

I’m finally home.

I get out of the truck and take a deep breath of fresh air. I absorb the sounds of birds and a lawn mower. I love the smell of freshly cut grass. This is the place I should have been for the last four years. If only my mom had gotten knocked up by Malcolm years ago, she wouldn't have bothered with me, and I would have stayed here with Dad.

“I’ll grab your bags.” Dad smiles as he rounds his old truck. The same faded blue truck he bought when he was seventeen. He’s always loved it, even though it smells a little funky and is loud as hell. It’s just as I remembered it. Like nothing has changed at all.

I hear a door slamming. I turn to the left, and that's when I see him. A much older version of my childhood best friend.

Jace Montero.

Wow.

Like, holy fucking shit.

He’d grown up. He’s over six feet, maybe six-three. The dark brown hair he used to keep short is longer on top. Styled all messy, it looks good on him. He wears a white tee that accentuates his olive skin. The fabric clings to his skin, displaying the outline of a perfect set of abs.

Dang.

Growing up, Jace was scrawny and shorter than most kids our age. He was always shorter than me. Five gold stars to puberty.

Puberty shafted me in height. I’m five-five. Okay, that’s a lie, but let me think I’m that tall. I haven't really grown in four years, so of course, Jace is taller. Most people are.

His steps falter as he notices me. His eyes meet mine and he freezes, like he’s seen a ghost. I guess, in some ways, I am one. Been gone four long years without a word. I could have been dead or in jail. But I guess Dad would have mentioned my passing.

My heart speeds up as he stares at me. God, I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed him. He looks away and he quickly makes his way to the driver's door of a shiny black SUV in the driveway. When he looks up at me again, I take my chance—I smile and wave.

At least I have old friends here. I might not have spoken to them in four years, but I’d known Jace for twelve years before I left. I don’t have to worry about being the new kid next week at school, just the old kid returning.

Jace turns and climbs into his car, ignoring me. My heart sinks.

To be honest, it was what I’d expected from Jace and what I deserve. A positive reunion would have been nice, but I hadn’t been holding my breath for one. When I left here, I couldn't handle the idea of seeing how happy my friends were. Couldn’t handle their happy smiles during video chats. While they had each other, I had no one. I spent the first few weeks crying to my mom to let me come back home. I was missing everything.

So, for the past four years, I haven't spoken to any of them. I cut all ties with this life. The only connection I had was my dad, who I spoke to twice a week. Mostly about movies, football, his new job, and what I was doing in school. He never mentioned the guys. He must have known I didn't want to talk about them.

I hadn’t known what to expect when I got back here. There hasn’t been a lot of time to process everything.

It's not like I can take back the last four years like they didn’t happen.

They did.

I clutch my hands together, my left thumb brushing over the palm of the right. Over the scar that was left there the last time we were all together. The scar I know is on Jace’s palm too.

The one thing that still connects us.

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