Make My Move (Hannaford Prep #5) - J. Bree Page 0,101

watching us like a fucking hawk.

I don’t want to deal with him, so instead I murmur, “What happened?”

“My leg just likes to remind me that violence is never the answer,” she says with her usual brand of dry wit, and it strikes me again how much I like her. This isn’t just an attraction thing, this is deeper and has taken root in me in ways that I don’t think I’ll ever be able to claw out.

I chuckle under my breath at her as we start walking again, and her legs still aren’t steady enough. I look down at her and go through the pros and cons of just carrying her the rest of the way. Harley and Blaise will be pissed, and Lips might kick up a fuss, but the wobbling is killing me.

She blinks back at me, clearly confused. “I’ll be fine, I just need to get off my feet for a few days.”

Of course she’d say it’s fine; there’s no way I can carry her without her stabbing me or something, so I nod right as Harley pries Avery away so he can take up on the other side of the Mounty. Between the two of us we take all of the weight off of her legs until we’re carrying her. Neither of us say a word and Avery stares us down one by one, like she’s about to make this entire thing everyone’s problem. When she opens her mouth, Blaise hauls her under his arm and pulls her to lead the way, not at all distracting her but getting her moving so the blowup that’s about to happen can at the very least be away from the gossips of Hannaford.

There’s already too many eyes on us all as we walk through the girls’ dorm. None of them are brave enough to whisper or call attention to themselves, but there’s no denying that they’re all a little too interested in Lips being carried up here by the two of us.

From the corner of my eye I see Annabelle take two steps out of her room toward us, but there’s no fucking way I’m dealing with her brand of bullshit today. She might be a dumb, manipulative slut but she seems to read the situation well enough that I can stop her in her tracks with a single look. It doesn’t stop her from standing there and watching Harley pass with devastated eyes, eyes brimming with tears that make me feel nothing. He doesn’t even glance her way, all of his focus and energy on Lips and, as much as I want her for myself, that’s exactly where it should be.

When we arrive at the girls’ room, Avery unlocks the door and we direct Lips in and set her gently down onto her bed.

It only takes a minute for everything to implode because with one sentence, Avery lights a match and flicks it onto the fire.

“What the fuck is going on here?”

One look at Lips confirms she’s completely oblivious to us all, her focus entirely on the pain she’s in, and I’m fuming at Avery for bringing this shit up now when there’s more pressing shit to deal with.

Like killing whoever hurt the Mounty.

“Don’t you look at me like that, Ash, you don’t get to decide to suddenly switch teams and be protective of her without giving me some answers. Now, I’m not going to ask you all again, tell me what the hell is going on?” Avery says, and her tone grates on me.

Harley looks her over and then shrugs. “Nothing. Nothing is going on—”

“What’s going on is Harley needs to get his shit together and do something already because he’s wasting everyone’s goddamn time.”

“What the hell does that even mean!”

But none of us take any notice of her because Blaise is staring Harley down like he’s about to take a swing, and once again we’re all teetering on the edge of destruction.

Harley cuts me off with a snarl, “This isn’t a fucking game—”

“No one thinks it’s a game, asshole—”

Harley loses his head and he yells, “Fuck you, Morrison! You and Ash are as bad as each other.”

From the corner of my eye I see Lips’ head snap in our direction, and Avery’s eyes narrow as she stares each of us down. My fists are clenched at my sides, from where I’m stopping myself from taking a swing at Harley, because if he would just do something maybe we wouldn’t be in this limbo space of hell