Total pages in book: 32
Estimated words: 30864 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 154(@200wpm)___ 123(@250wpm)___ 103(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 30864 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 154(@200wpm)___ 123(@250wpm)___ 103(@300wpm)
Malinda was the ‘mother’ of the group.
Analise was Sam’s, and I barely spent time with her. Logan preferred to stay away when Analise was around, but there were times we had a holiday meal with her. She was quiet, always watching Sam, a timid air to her. The two interacted, but there was a fragile sense to them, to their relationship. I knew what happened in the beginning. Logan had shared everything, but a part of me watched Analise, and I’d felt a weird crestfallen sadness.
In a way, Sam had a mom, but she didn’t at the same time.
I ached for my mom—every day.
Sam also ached. I could sense it from her, and she was hurting again. As she caught my gaze, we were both aching for our men.
She’d been leaning against a wall, her arms crossed over her chest, but still holding my gaze, she pushed off slowly.
I was standing at the same time.
We were both on the same wavelength, and as she started to leave, Mason asked, “Where are you going?”
Logan saw me moving. “Taylor?”
Sam waited for me to come to the end of the stairs and answered for us. “We’ll be right back.”
“Fuck no. I’m in on this.”
Heather brought up the rear.
We got one more surprise when we left the house.
Bren came too.
32
Samantha
I never wanted to do this. In fact, I had gone out of my way to steer clear of Helen.
She was Mason and Logan’s mother. She barely raised them, though I knew both loved her. There had been touching moments, a few, but this was too much. To team up with Tate? To scam her ex-husband? For what? What cost?
She hadn’t told Mason or Logan for one simple reason—she knew they’d find out the truth.
I wanted to burn everything down around her. Her house. Her car. Her belongings. Whatever she prized most, I wanted it gone.
There was a memory coming to me as we got in the car, all of us piled together in one, but the memory was mine.
When I went with Mason and Logan. When they went to mess with Roussou’s football coach at the time.
Roussou hadn’t been the town it became later. I knew it wasn’t bad or good, rich or poor, but I thought the town was doing okay. It turns out I was wrong. But my memory wasn’t about Roussou. It was about me, seeing my dad’s car, and being so angry.
I knew what I did that night.
I had that same urge right now, but I had nothing to lose back then. I had everything to lose now.
I still wanted to do some damage. Maybe it was just in me, something that nothing could get out of me.
“We have a plan?” Bren was the one driving.
We had started for mine, but she whistled and motioned for us to follow her to a gigantic Jeep. Once inside, she shot off a text, and when it alerted back, she started driving. She was a bounty hunter, so we were in her world, to an extent.
Taylor and Heather both looked my way.
“Got any firecrackers?” It was a joke. Somewhat.
Bren’s calm and steady gaze found mine. She was unblinking, like Congo in the house. “Flashbombs work?”
“You guys can carry those?”
Her eyes shifted to Heather, who’d asked the question, and she didn’t answer.
Heather’s eyes got big. “Bren!”
Bren’s phone went off, and she hit the button to read the text.
A second later, another truck sped up behind us and then fell back, keeping pace.
“That’s Z. He’s coming for backup.”
Heather cursed. “This isn’t a situation where we’d need backup. Helen’s not a fugitive.”
“Yet.”
Bren went back to driving, though. She nodded to herself, taking a left turn. “So we don’t have a plan. Okay.”
“No knives.”
Bren’s calm eyes slid to Heather again. “Not in high school.”
“I’m fully aware of that. You’re a little bit too chill right now. I know what you’re capable of.”
The faintest glimmer of a smile showed before Bren went back to a blank expression, slowing and taking a right. We were nearing the house Helen used in Fallen Crest. Parking at the curb, she kept the doors locked.
“You need a plan. You can’t go in there and start yelling.”
Heather spoke for me, “You yell at fugitives.”
Bren had been talking to me, but again, turned to her sister-in-law, inclining her head a little as she did. “All due respect, Heather, shut up.”
Heather’s eyes almost bugged out now. “You did not just say that—”
“You’re in my world.” Bren focused on me again. “I’ll reframe my earlier question. Yes, normally, I can yell at hoity-toities, but you cannot. You’re emotional. If violence breaks out, I’m inclined to let you hurt your mother-in-law, and I think since that’s your children’s grandmother, you might regret your actions later. Maybe. I won’t, but I’m trying to be a good sister right now for both Chan and Heather. So. What’s your plan?”