Page 11 of Wicked

Wicked grabs me by the hand and turns me back to face him. Everywhere he touches burns like a memory I’ve tried to forget.

I tilt my head up to look at him, only my eyes fall to his lips. The corner twitches.

“We’ll finish this athome.”

Then he backs away, stopping at Oscar’s door and leaning down to look at me over his shoulder slightly before going back to his bike. He fires up the Harley, and as the deep engine growls through the night, a sinking feeling drops to the base of my gut.

Why does he remind me of Papa already, and how is he already so comfortable bossing me around?

“You sure you’re okay?” Jackson asks, opening my door as I slide in.

“Yes. Just take care of Betty tonight.”

He shuts my door and leans in when I lower my window. “She good?” He gestures to the back seat and I look over my shoulder to see Poppy lying on her back.

“I’ve just got to get her home.”

“Alright, Skippy. I’ll see you later.”

I start my car and pull away, looking in my rearview mirror to see Oscar’s headlights beam as he follows. That space is replaced with Poppy’s head.

“Hmmmm. Interesting…” she murmurs, catching my eyes in the rearview mirror.

I go back to the road, squeezing the steering wheel with my hand to try to erase the feeling of Wicked on me. “What is?”

“My brother is going to change, isn’t he? This is just the beginning.”

I don’t know how to answer that. I don’t want to lie to her, but I don’t want to scare her.

“Let’s hope not.”

He is.

“He likes you, I think…” Poppy adds, and now I wish I had Betty in here to burn the conversation.

“Why do you say that?” I take the roads that lead to the city.

“He touched you.” She looks out the side window and I turn the music on to drown out both of our voices. She’s drunk and I don’t want her to say anything to me that she might regret in the morning.

The high black wired gates part when it senses my car coming and I pull in to the side of the house, right behind Wicked’s bike.

I turn off my car and open the door, letting Poppy out of the back. “I’m so hungry.”

“Well, we will go make you something to eat.”

She lets me pick her up out of the car and lead her to the front door. The house is quiet. Even when my parents are home, it’s like this. Dead inside. I was basically raised by the soldiers more than my parents. I was never upset about it, but now I guess I’d have to get used to having Wicked and Poppy here too.

Pushing open the front door, I lead her through the white and black marble foyer where the grand staircase leads to upstairs, and through to the kitchen. My mom designed this home and itwas built before I was born, but along the way, they managed to keep things updated. It was the first thing she got to do as her hobby when she and Papa got together.

I pull out a barstool and place her down before flicking on the heating throughout the house.

“Okay,” I say, coming back in. “What do you feel like? We can order Uber Eats, or I can cook you something, but I have to admit, I’m not good at it.”

Poppy leans her face on the palm of her hand, staring at me from weak eyelids. At this rate, she won’t even last long enough to wait for either.

“Uber it is.” I pull my phone out and open up the app, clicking through the orders. I choose Shake Shack because, honestly, is there anywhere better, before placing my phone back onto the counter.

“You made it…” his voice drifts through the archway that leads to the dining room, and my shoulders stand back a little as I look up at him. He’s wearing loose gray sweats and nothing else. I force myself to not gawk at his body before nodding.

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