Page 155 of Faking It With the Small-Town Bad Boy

erupts at the edge of the property.

Never mind that I don’t have shoes, I sprint, feeling Percy do the

same behind me until he eventually passes me up, his arms catching

me against his chest while we tackle one another to the ground in the

field. We both hit the grass hard, the wind slapped from my lungs

while he pins me to the grass, his finger outstretched and pointed in

my face to excel his seriousness.

“Stay here!”

He’s screaming, but I hardly hear it, the fire whipping up through the

front end of the car that is currently crushed against the base of the

willow tree, every emotion at once filtering through me while Percy

runs straight for the heat from hell.

He yanks a man out of the front seat, ripping him out of the car and

shoving him sideways. Ryan stumbles sideways—not a scratch on his

body—his haggard balance still unmanageable as he clutches a dark

beer bottle in his fist.

Ryan and Percy both stare at the tree that lights like a match before

our eyes.

I stay down, knowing I couldn’t stand right now if I tried.

“No,” I squeal, trembling from head to toe as the tree is engulfed in

reckless, hateful fire. It fills the sky over our heads, looking like a

meteor that’s fallen out of the sky, and I can’t help but scream at the

horrible scene unfolding before me. “NO!”

Percy whips around, unmoving from his stance ahead of me.

I don’t have to look in his eyes to portray the desperation that floods

through me. I’m already sobbing breathlessly into the grass, my

hands gripping the earth like this is something I could stop.

I can’t stop it.

I just have to let the willow tree, and the history it holds in my heart,

burn to fucking ashes.

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