Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 131789 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131789 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
Okay. That one hurt a little. I’ll admit my history with chicks is less than honorable, but those girls didn’t mean anything to me. Townies. Random self-absorbed prep school chicks trying to piss off Daddy. They’re not Casey. She’s kind and sincere and probably the sweetest person you’d ever meet in real life. So how do I tell Sloane that without digging myself into a hole?
I swallow. “Casey’s not a one-night stand. I know that. And I’m probably the only person who knows as well as you do what she’s been through. Trust me. I’m not here to hurt her.”
I’ve spent the last few months doing everything I can to look out for Casey. To be someone she can rely on. The last thing on my mind is turning all that upside down to get in her bed and sneak out before she wakes up. If that was the goal, I’d have been in and out by now. There are easier ways to get laid.
“Fine.” Sloane spots RJ coming out of the locker room and stands up. “I’ll talk you up to our dad. But don’t think that’s in any way meant as an endorsement. I still don’t think you’re good enough for her.”
Won’t get any argument from me.
“Thank you,” I say, gratitude rippling in my voice.
“What’s the other thing?” she asks, moving toward the aisle.
“Oh. Right.” I trail after her, but she’s already climbing down the rows of bleachers.
“Well?” she asks, glancing over her shoulder.
RJ nears the bottom of the steps, his swim duffel slung over one shoulder. He grins at Sloane, who’s still waiting for me to finish.
“It’s fine,” I tell her. “It can wait. Go congratulate my stepbro.”
As Sloane dashes into RJ’s waiting arms, I smother a sigh and fish my phone out of my pocket. When I find a waiting text from Casey, a smile tugs at my lips.
CASEY: Did you talk to my sister?
I type a response as I head toward the exit.
ME: Yup.
CASEY: And??
ME: She said she’ll work on your dad.
Casey sends the preaching hands emoji, followed by the blushing emoji.
My smile falters. Shit. The blushing emoji.
You’re playing with fire, an internal voice warns.
Trust me, I’m well aware of that.
But this chick does something to me. I make Casey smile, yeah. But she makes me smile right back.
So if I’m playing with fire, fine. Whatever. Let me burn.
Chapter 38
RJ
“If you can’t be stronger, be meaner.” Fenn keeps his gloved hands raised and close to his face as he circles me on the mat. “If you can’t be faster, be smarter.”
“I don’t think this wax-on bullshit is helping.”
Lucas snorts, watching us from a weight bench.
“You better pray it does. I’m your last hope.”
“How is this training if I’m not going to hit you the way I’ll have to hit him?”
Fenn smacks my elbow. “You’re dropping your guard.”
“Fuck off with—”
I eat a right hook that knocks the words out of my mouth along with the piece of gum I’d had lodged in my cheek.
“Like I said. Keep your hands up.” Fenn’s really feeling himself today, having too much fun working me over.
My point remains the same, however. Fenn isn’t going to come at me with bloodlust and vengeance the way Duke intends to meet me. I can’t train with a bunny rabbit to fight a bear. Besides, it’s barely been two weeks, and for all of Fenn’s sincere effort, I don’t believe I’m any closer to standing a chance in this fight. I’ve taken a punch from Duke. It tears years from your life.
Which means plan A is a non-starter. That much was always apparent. In the past, I would’ve already pivoted to plan B and been well on my way to regaining the upper hand. But I’ve officially reached a dead end. Either he’s the cleanest high school crime boss that’s ever terrorized these halls, or Duke is far more sophisticated at covering his tracks than I gave him credit for.
I’ve spent weeks combing his digital footprint for a compromising morsel I could exploit to give myself an exit strategy. And I’ve got nothing. Fucking nada.
One question that keeps me up at night remains frustratingly out of reach: where is he stashing the money he’s skimming off the top of all the action on campus? Every racket he takes a cut on. The bets that run through the fights. It’s all going somewhere. Like most of these assholes, Duke has a trust that he takes an allowance from, but from what I saw when I hacked his online banking, it doesn’t look like he’s stuffing his ill-gotten proceeds there. It would attract too much attention from family, lawyers, and the IRS. So where’s he hiding his piggy bank?
After another hour of mostly procedural sparring, Fenn and I call it a day. He’s got a soccer match against Ballard Academy tonight, and I still need to shower and change.