Devil Incarnate (Boys of Preston Prep #4) - Angel Lawson Page 0,201

doesn’t tell me I’m not good enough, or that I have to try harder. Idly, it strikes me that for whatever his earlier flaws in the ways of parenting, Warren is probably a good dad. The kind of dad that might have pushed Bass and me closer together instead of farther apart.

“Family is important,” he says, almost like he’s read my thoughts. “It took me a long time to figure that out. Too long, if I’m being honest. Long enough that a lot of bridges couldn’t be salvaged.” Looking pensive, he dabs out his cigarette, scraping it against the dirt. “But I think family might be a bit like love. It’s not something you just wake up one day and suddenly find. It’s something you build. It doesn’t need to be blood. I believe that.”

I groan. “If you’re about to give me some corny line about us being family, I’m going to have to take so many cool points from you.”

Warren barks a surprised laugh, but doesn’t look offended. “I guess I do sort of think of you as family now. Don’t tell Reynolds, though. He’s got terrible only child syndrome. The kid could never share for shit.”

“Don’t worry,” I assure him. “The last thing I need is another brother.”

“That wasn’t exactly the kind of brotherhood I had in mind.” He shoves his hands in his pockets. “Our little Devils need a mentor. Someone on campus. Someone they can go to.” The look he gives me is heavy with significance.

“Our…” I start, but then everything clicks together. I’d suspected it that night at the lake, and now I know. “You’re the one who sent me the key to the Devil’s Lair. And the invitation.”

He nods. “After you got the Devils shut down, a few of us alumni got together, shared a few drinks, and made a new plan. I know it probably seems silly, but the Devils meant a lot to us. There’s a history that runs deep—a history that had been forgotten over the years. So we decided to start it back up again, just a little differently.” He stares out at the street, something troubled crossing his features. “When Reyn came back from military school, he was…well, a lot like you’ve been since last summer, actually. Alone. At risk of re-offending. In need of something structured.” Turning, he meets my eyes to say, “I didn’t want my son to fall back into the same kind of toxic environment it was when he got sent away.”

“You mean the kind of environment I helped create.”

Warren doesn’t feed me some bullshit about not being at fault. He just gives me a single dip of his head. “Do you remember what I told you at the meeting, that day I found out about you and Georgia?” Pausing, he adds, “I mean, before I realized it was Georgia. I said something very wise and catchy about having connections.”

I think back, searching my memories. “The opposite of addiction isn’t sobriety. It’s connection.”

“Exactly.” He looks satisfied as he stands, giving me a nod of acknowledgment. “You really helped them out this year, picking the new pledges, stepping up when Georgia got in trouble during the prank, pointing out the weak spots. People think leadership is all about being kind and wise, but sometimes it’s about having the balls to say what people don’t want to hear.” Lifting an eyebrow, he tips his head at me. “I know you protected the group from Collins, Heston.”

I freeze, wondering if this is one of those secrets I should be keeping. “How?”

“A Devil has his ways,” is his answer, finger tapping his temple. “None of the others would have had it in them to throw Afton under that bus. They would have protected her at the expense of the whole group. But you put the Devils above any one person, and that,” he stresses, “that is what leadership looks like.”

The moment feels awkward—heavy with a meaning that I struggle to put words to—but before I can, the sound of metal clanking on asphalt shatters it, followed by a string of growled curses.

“I can probably keep an eye on them,” I agree, rising from the bench. Giving Warren a long-suffering look, I admit, “God knows I may be the only one with any control over Micha. And even that’s questionable.”

He laughs and shoots me a wave before heading back into the house, leaving me to take a halting step toward the road. Sugar’s holding his flashlight, looking cold and bored