Wed to the Bad Boy(79)

So here I was. I felt trapped. Sure, if I had to stick around, staying with Cullen wasn’t so bad, but it was all about choices. Or my lack of choices. The only ‘choice’ could see was whether I would make do or whether I was going to hate my stay.

I’d never been good at sulking, so I resigned myself to making do and began rooting around the kitchen in an effort to find a cookie sheet for my sad slice of pizza.

The boys didn’t even have a microwave. What kind of world were they living in?

Probably one where they were rarely home.

After my pizza was cooked, I sat down at the table and leafed through what little was sitting on it. Notebooks.

Beast’s writing. I knew it the instant I saw it.

Lists upon lists of things. Goals, daily and long-term.

Beast had always been a planner, the kind of guy who had a step-by-step method for everything. Even getting up in the morning. It was what made him so efficient, he said.

He had it all planned out. First he would complete “the big job,” then he would come to Chicago. Get me. Each thing numbered. Like it was that easy. Most of it was in code, things that meant something else. No way they had a “dog” to walk—that might have meant patrols, because it popped up almost every day.

He was so careful.

Except his list didn’t save him from getting shot.

I pushed it away. Tears were threatening again. I didn’t want to keep crying. I was tired of crying.

All cried out.

Rumbling coming down the driveway. I perked up as soon as I heard it, but it wasn’t a motorcycle. No. It was something else. A truck?

I got up from my seat and tiptoed to the front of the house, poking my head out of the window.

A little red SUV, the kind that was more for show than anything else, rattled on in the driveway. A beautiful blonde slid out of the driver’s seat.

The house was so hidden amongst the vacant lots and thickets of overgrown brush that what was once a full block of houses was now completely empty, save this one. If anyone was coming up here, it had to be intentional.

Audrey Canchola. The one girl I never wanted to lay eyes on again was in the driveway. There was a casserole in her arms. A casserole.

What the actual fuck?

This girl tormented me in high school, always trying to push me, antagonize me. If it wasn’t about sports or academics, it was about the club. Or about boys.

She’d set out to flirt with Cullen every chance she got, as soon as she saw I was interested.

When I left, I’d hoped she fell into a hole.

Judging by her perfect body and her well-painted face, I hadn’t gotten my wish at all. She was even more beautiful than in ninth grade.

She was gorgeous and all grown up, and she was bringing Cullen a casserole.

I answered the door on the first knock.

“Can I help you?” I asked. It came out strangled.

“Uh, hi. Is Cullen home?”

“I’m sorry, he’s out on business. Can I take a message?”

“Yes, I brought him a dish. I heard about Beast and I didn’t want to intrude, but—wait, Layla?”

I blinked, feeling caught in the headlights. I’d hoped she was just going to leave it and tell me to have a nice day. The last thing I wanted right now was to go through any of the hell that I’d gone through in high school. Audrey was the kind of girl who brought a casserole to snoop, not to be nice.

“Layla McKenna?”

“Yup, that’s me.” I smiled, as sweetly as I possibly could, trying not to let any irritation show.

“Audrey Canchola, from Woodlawn! We were in the same grade. I am so sorry to hear about your brother. I knew him pretty well, being, you know, with the club and all. Here, this is for you. I made a green bean casserole, thought you might like it. Well, I thought Cullen might like it. I didn’t realize—”

“Thank you so much, we really do appreciate it.” I took the dish from her hands and started to close the door, willing her to go away and leave me in peace.

“He didn’t tell me you were staying with him.” No such luck. “You here short term, or…?”

“Yeah, I just moved in,” I said, unable to avoid the awkward conversation.

“Just moved in? You’re not visiting?” Ah, there it was, the full-on nosy, judgmental tone in her voice that reminded me exactly why I’d hated her in high school. This was just gossip fodder to her.

“No, the club wants me here. Cullen wants me here, so I’m here.” I tried to smile, but it came out sad. “It was what Sean would’ve wanted.”

“Rage never told me. Eric never said—I mean, I figured—”

“Do you two talk often?” I asked.

“Rage, or Bones? I guess you could say that. We’re dating.”