Page 97 of Crybaby

Security is relaxed, and I think that’s because they don’t think I would be so stupid and maim Walter publicly, but that’s exactly what I plan on doing.

The skeleton in his closet is me. What a fucking plot twist.

We’re being sent in every direction, helping to prepare for the proceedings which allows me to move around freely. But we still must be careful because of Carson. I’ve not seen the fucker yet. No doubt he’s looking at himself in the mirror, kissing his biceps and making sure every strand of hair is brushed immaculately.

I still can’t believe he’s my brother. I also can’t believe I fucked my stepmom.

Some asshole shoves some red napkins which are shaped like origami ducks into our hands and orders Darcie and I into the ballroom to help with the preparations. She doesn’t look at me and storms off.

Well, this is going just swimmingly. At this rate, I think Carson is safe as I’m pretty sure it’s my head Darcie wants and not Carson’s.

We work on opposite ends of the room, but I never let my guard down. I keep my eyes on my surroundings and Darcie because there’s no room for error. And when I hear a voice I never thought I’d hear so soon again, it just confirms that we have to be on our A game.

“Did you see the rack on her?” Carson says, whistling.

“How could I miss them?” replies motherfucking—I piss my pants—Blake.

This is bad. Very bad.

Darcie turns over her shoulder, meeting my eyes. It seems only in the face of danger does she not want to rip out my spleen.

I nod discreetly, hinting we’re to bounce out the doors which lead into the gardens.

She makes a beeline for them, but not before eyeing the ice statue of a cherub playing a harp. No doubt she is contemplating breaking off his chubby little arm and shoving it up Carson’s ass. She’s already owned Blake’s ass when she went all Shakespeare on his backside.

I wonder what alpha boy Carson would think if he saw the words crybaby on his BFF’s butt cheeks.

A chuckle escapes me because that shit is fucking funny.

We manage to make it outside undetected. “That was too fucking close,” I say under my breath as some little old lady in a peacock feathered hat passes us by.

“Why is Blake here? This is bad. He has no doubt told the police about what we did,” Darcie says, peering over my shoulder. “No doubt your belovedpapamade sure he came out of this looking the victim.”

“Enough with the dad jokes,” I warn because regardless of his relation to me, it doesn’t mean I like the guy. “We need another plan.”

“You think?” she taunts, rolling her eyes.

Oh, fuck her and that smart fucking mouth.

Gripping her by the throat, I walk her backward and slam her back into the brick wall. We’re shrouded by a huge oak tree, but getting caught seems less painful than dealing with the wrath of Little Miss Sunshine.

“If you’ve got a better idea, then I’m all ears.” I don’t loosen my grip on her throat, and my dick stirs when she swallows deeply under my rough grip.

“We could just, I dunno…kill Carson?” she suggests, eyeing me something wicked. “Instead of this James Bond shit.”

“James Bond kicks ass, FYI. And no, we can’t.”

“I fucking hat—” I don’t let her finish and eat her words as I smash my mouth over hers.

She may hate me, but she sure as shit likes the way I kiss. And kiss, we do.

I press my chest to hers, relishing in the trouncing of her heart against mine. I live for this shit. I live for my little firecracker, who will be the death of me.

As I slip my tongue into her mouth, she moans, and just when I think we’re friends again, she bites down on it—hard.

My bad for thinking she’d forgiven me. She releases me, and I know better than to go back for more.

“You gave up that right when turned into a traitorous asshole.” She playfully slaps my shoulder, while I flinch. “How’s the shoulder?”

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