Fractured Things - Samantha Lovelock Page 0,9

above the girl’s head. They delivered the used underwear to her mortified and seriously pissed-off parents after showing them their daughter’s attempt at amateur porn. They ended up yanking her out of school for a few weeks, and when she finally did come back, she avoided all of us like the plague.

So now here I am, the originator of our only rule, being the one breaking it. I’m the one who went and caught feelings, and by the time we pull up to the hole in the wall diner, I’ve managed to talk myself into feeling like a fucking idiot.

She ran, you moron. Not just from the shitshow that night, but from you. What in the hell makes you think she’s going to want anything to do with you now?

“You coming, bro?” Payne’s question drags me out of my head, and I realize both he and my father are watching me with equal parts concern and amusement.

“Yeah, just give me a few minutes. You guys go in.”

My dad reaches over and gives my shoulder a firm understanding pat before the two of them leave me in the rented SUV and head into The Juneberry. I yank the hat off my head and rake my fingers roughly through my thick hair. Sliding lower in the leather seat, I bounce the back of my skull off the headrest a few times in annoyance.

This whole thing is a mess. Fucking Callum and my mother and their twisted, psychotic bullshit. I will happily admit I had Mrs. Torsten pegged utterly wrong, but the rest of that family? I’ve always hated Callum and Hali. And my mother has always been her own particular brand of nasty-meets-nuts. But how do you get to the point of thinking somebody deserves violence, deserves to be destroyed, not for anything they did, but because you think you’re entitled to punish them just because you can?

Now Stella has been a casualty of their fucked-up games, not once, not twice, but three times.

First, she lived in hiding with her mom for fifteen years.

Second, she became the victim of an attack orchestrated by my mother, Hali, and Bingham the Tool.

And finally, finding out the truth of what drove her mom away from Folkestone ended up driving her away, too.

Grinding my teeth in frustration, I sit forward and jam my hat on backward, focusing on my knees while I clench and unclench my hands.

Dude, you’re Poe fucking Halliday—pull your balls out of the glove compartment and stop being such a pussy. Get out of the damn car, go inside, and tell your girl it’s time to get her ass home. Because who are you kidding? You know you want her.

Slamming the door of the SUV, I stride across the sagging sidewalk that’s seen better days and push into the diner, looking up as the small bells above the entrance announce my arrival. Four heads turn in my direction. One I don’t recognize, two that belong to the people I showed up with, and there’s barely time to register the fourth as the white-blonde blur flies across the room and attacks me with a hug.

“Jesus, Poe. What took you so long?” Sunday asks breathlessly, a scowl on her beautiful face.

Just as I’m about to answer her, she presses her index finger firmly against my lips, holding it there while she speaks and effectively shushes me.

“Doesn’t matter,” she says quietly. “Stella’s in the back. I think she ran for the restroom; it looked like she was going to throw up when she saw Payne and your dad. Or maybe it was because she didn’t see you. Go through that swinging door to the kitchen and turn right. It’ll be the first room on the left.” Shifting my gaze toward the door, I see the woman I don’t recognize leaning against the back counter. Arms crossed over her chest, she aims a scarily decent stink eye my way.

Sunday follows my line of sight and finally pulls her finger away from my lips, only to pat my cheek with a noticeable amount of force, just shy of making it a flutter of slaps. “Don’t worry about Sally. I’ll handle her,” she promises.

Warily I make my way towards the door to the kitchen, feeling the older woman’s stare on me the whole way and waiting for her to pounce. She may be small, but she looks like she could gouge out an eye or two without a second thought if it meant protecting somebody she cared about.

Following Sunday’s