Victory at Prescott High (The Havoc Boys #5) - C.M. Stunich Page 0,114

the way he’s helped me time and again deal with my own over-the-top temper.

His obsidian gaze starts at my feet and rakes up my body, making me shiver and crackle like my skin is made of coals and his eyes are the flame that finally ignites the blaze. I didn’t know about the exceptions in his trust, the ones that allowed him to withdraw money for education, the ones that allow him to live here without breaking the stipulation that he lives with his father until graduation.

That means … all along … Victor could’ve left Prescott High and his drunk father and all of that bullshit behind. He has the grades to get in here, the connections. Even Ophelia claimed she always wanted him to go to school here (not totally sure I believe that, but I guess it might’ve helped her maintain the failing image of an aristocrat).

Anyway, I don’t have to ask why Vic didn’t leave.

It’s pretty goddamn obvious: me.

His love is far from selfish. Or, if it is, then it’s much more than that, too.

Victor very carefully closes the front door and turns around to look at me, dark gaze blazing in such a way that I can’t seem to help the soft gasp that falls from my lips. I’m not such a badass now, am I? Faced with the unrelenting magnanimity of his stare.

“Get your uniform on,” he tells me, and I can’t help the shudder that takes over me, making my skin ripple and ache from my head down to the very tips of my toes. Victor stalks off down the short hallway toward the bathroom before disappearing inside, and I let out a long breath that I didn’t even mean to hold.

“Jesus,” Aaron murmurs as I glance his way, studying the sharp masculinity of a face that was once boyish and sweet and now can only just barely teeter on that edge in the right lighting.

Several things occur to me then.

Aaron’s house is on the very edge of Prescott, straddling the official boundary of the Fuller neighborhood. He could’ve gone to Fuller High if he’d wanted, I bet. And Cal, he was talented enough that he could’ve run away all together, left this nightmare of a city behind. Hael could’ve quit school to work on cars. Oscar is too smart to be stuck in Prescott; he likely could’ve snagged the one and only scholarship spot that Oak Valley opens each year (each year there isn’t a school shooting, that is).

The only person who was truly and utterly stuck in Prescott High was … me.

“Excuse me,” I choke out, snatching the pile of bags and a single shoe box that Oscar has carefully gathered into a neat pile on the coffee table, and taking off for the bedroom nearest the bathroom. I slam the door behind me, putting my back to it and closing my eyes for a moment.

My heart races, and my spirit swells, and there’s nowhere for that energy to go but into my hands and fingers as I throw all the items in my arms onto the king-size bed against the far wall. It’s dressed plainly in white sheets, white pillows, and a matching down comforter. Is it wrong that my first thought is: will we all fit in here on this thing? Because the thought of being separated from any of my boys for any length of time makes me feel almost physically ill.

I shed my clothes as quickly as I can, yanking on a gray pleated skirt and a white button-down, a sky-blue satin tie, and socks that reach my knees. The shoes are last, these shiny black Mary Janes that remind me of the shoes Pamela used to make me and Pen wear on holidays, when we were still rich and she still pretended to give a shit about us, when Dad was alive and the Thing was a future nightmare I couldn’t have possibly fathomed.

As soon as I’m dressed, I tear out of that room like a bat outta hell and run straight into Victor’s strong, wet chest. He’s clearly just gotten out of the shower, beads of moisture clinging to his inked skin as he rests a palm on either side of the hallway, his obsidian gaze boring down into me.

“Bernadette,” he murmurs, and then he’s shoving me back into the room and pinning me against the wall. Victor’s mouth descends on mine, a slice of hot fury that burns me even as it soothes away all