This Fearless Girl (St. Clary's University #2) - E. M. Moore Page 0,78

then I pocket the phone again. I’m a clumsy cell phone user at best.

When we get on the small plane, Wyatt finally asks what happened. I give him a rundown, shrugging.

“So, nothing, really?”

“Not really. I guess it’s exactly what he said on the phone before. He doesn’t do business over the phone.”

“He didn’t ask for what we had about the treasure?”

I shake my head. “No. Actually, it was like the treasure was the last thing on his mind.”

By the time we touch down back near Clary, I’m fighting to keep my eyes open. Luckily, the small air strip where the plane took off from is close to Jacobs Manor. It’s well past midnight when we get home, and I’m so freaking exhausted.

The front door opens, and by the looks on Stone and Lucas’ faces, I won’t be getting to bed any time soon. Stone’s coming straight for me. His strides determined, angry, but at the last moment, he veers off, pulls his hand back, and punches Wyatt in the face.

Wyatt stumbles backward, his hat falling to the ground. “The...fuck?” He rights himself, his hands hovering over his lip that looks like it split. Blood trickles down his chin.

“Stone!” Lucas barks.

Wyatt and Stone stand nose-to-nose. “Don’t you dare make a decision like that again without all three of us on board,” Stone seethes.

I push the two of them apart. “What decision? Me going with Cole? That was me,” I yell, pushing Stone back. “I can make my own fucking decisions! Would you rather us wait and he do something else to ruin your life?”

Stone’s shoulders relax. “Dakota...”

“No, fuck it. Quit your controlling bullshit. It had to be done.”

“You went on a fucking plane.”

“What choice did I have?”

Stone turns. He starts to beat the shit out of a sporty car that’s in the driveway that I didn’t even notice when we pulled up. He kicks the door again and again until the side caves in. His fist bangs down on the top, hitting repeatedly.

“Dude,” Wyatt shouts. He comes up from behind, grabbing him around the waist and tearing him away. I watch the scene with my heart in my throat.

“We shouldn’t have brought her into this.”

“I know, man,” Wyatt agrees, dragging Stone inside.

I peek back at the car and cringe. Lucas moves toward Wyatt’s hat, picking it up off the ground before turning toward me. “You okay?”

“Fine.”

“Don’t get growly with me,” he teases, nudging me playfully.

“I’m just tired, and I’m...confused.”

“Stone will calm down. It’s not the first time we’ve ever punched each other.”

I peek at him out of the corner of my eye. “Really?”

“We’re three fucking assholes. We’re not just dicks to other people, we can be dicks to each other too. Don’t worry. It’ll all be good in the morning.”

“I don’t understand guys.”

“It’s pretty simple with us three,” Lucas says. “We’re all just here to save each other from ourselves.”

I blink at him, mulling his statement over in my head. “What do you do?”

“Self-sabotage, Wild Girl. I’m pretty much the king at it.” He cups my face. “I’m just trying like hell not to do it with you.”

He leads me back inside. I don’t know where Wyatt and Stone went, but I head to my room alone. I kick off my shoes and lie back, not even bothering to get undressed. I could sleep for a week, and I’ll welcome it to quiet the voices in my head.

27

Despite sleep still trying to pull me under, my eyelids flutter open. Strong arms tighten around my midsection, jarring me even more awake. I jump at the intrusion, twisting toward the body pressed against me. Stone’s alert gray-blue eyes stare back. “Jesus Christ. What are you doing?” My heart beats out of control. I can’t see the clock but judging by the non-existent light shining in from the bathroom skylight, it’s still the middle of the night.

“I needed to be with you.” The hard lines of his face pull taut.

“You didn’t go back home?”

“This is my home,” he growls.

I lie back down on the pillow, refraining from snapping at him even though he’s woken me up after an exhausting evening just to grumble at me. “You know what I meant.”

“Would you rather me not be here?” he asks. “Here. Right here. In this house. Next to you. Touching you. Watching you.” The words fly from his mouth as soon as he thinks them. He’s out of control, really. He doesn’t even let me respond. The sharpness of his gaze sends warning signals through my