Page 67 of Kings of Westbrook High

“Alright, fuck this.” Kai tosses his pen down on his book and stands to grab his shit, not even bothering to lower his voice. “Imma go home and chill with Callie. You comin’, boys?”

Wren nods and so do I, standing to follow them out the door.

It’s no secret to any of us the only time we weren’t thinking about Mom today was when Callie was with us. I don’t know what she’s doing or how she’s doing it, but she has some kind of hold on us and not one of us are even bothering to fight it.

I thought for sure we’d hate her when I first found out about her. We should hate her, the daughter of the woman who took everything from us, the little punk from the wrong side of the tracks who shouldn’t fit in our world or our lives.

But we don’t, and she does.

She fits.

She doesn’t even try, and she sure as shit doesn’t want to, but she fits all the same. Whether she likes it or not, she belongs with us.

With me.

Ten minutes later, I’m just about to go straight up to her room and wake her lazy ass up, knowing she probably hasn’t eaten like I told her to, but then the elevator doors slide open and the three of us take three steps out just to freeze where we stand.

Well, fuck me.

Trouble by P!nk blares through the Bluetooth speakers in the corner, the kitchen’s a fucking mess and the penthouse stinks of weed, but that’s but that's not what stopped us in our tracks. Callie’s up on the kitchen island wearing those sexy little shorts and a loose white t-shirt, grinning at nothing and stuffing her face with brownie mix. With no fucks to give, she sings her heart out to the words - tone fucking deaf - and shakes her fine ass to the beat like no one’s watching.

“Holy shit..”

“Yeah..”

“Damon Kingston, get your hand outta that cookie jar or so help me god I’ll cut it off and feed it to the dog.” Mom warns, waving her chopping knife over her shoulder.

I frown, quickly pulling my hand out.

How does she have access to those eyes on the back of her head all the freaking time?

“We don’t have a dog.”

“Huh.” She muses, tossing a cube of cheese in her mouth. “Then I’ll feed it to your aunt Katherine. Same thing, right?”

I bark out a laugh. “Mom!”

She grins like a maniac and gets back to chopping, swaying her dark blond hair over her shoulders while she sings along to whatever nineties song is playing on the radio. She can’t sing or dance to save her life, but that never stops her from trying.

I don’t mind, though.

I love watching her cook.

She ruffles my hair like she knows it, looking over her shoulder when Dad and the twins come through from the gym dressed in their basketball gear.

“You realize we have people for that?” Dad teases her, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind.

“You realize you’ve told me that every single day since the day we met?” She teases back, leaning her head back on his shoulder to make out with him.

“Gross.”

They both laugh at me so I turn around to go wash up, snatching three cookies from the jar while she’s occupied.

“Damon!” Mom shouts, laughing. “Get your ass back here and gimme a cookie.”

I grin and do as I’m told.

The memory fades away when Callie spins on the counter, damn near jumping a mile off her feet when she catches us watching her. The glass mixing bowl she was using as a spoon slips from her hand and she cringes, looking down when it smashes on the marble countertop. Then she slips on the surface and falls back on her ass, screaming when she flips backwards off the edge and face plants the floor.

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