The Moth and the Flame (When Rivals Play #2) - B.B. Reid Page 0,44
looked genuinely shocked by that. “There’s something else I regret more than that.”
“Tell me,” she gently demanded. And then she must have sensed my reluctance because she added, “Please.”
One word from her and I was tearing down the wall I’d spent years building so that she could see my heart beating for her on the other side. “I regret everything that’s been taken from you, Lou. I regret you ever being hurt. And I regret…I regret not being able to stay away from you.”
She looked away, and when she turned back, her blue eyes glistened. “So you’re saying…you’re saying you wish we’d never met?”
“Yes.”
She flinched as if I’d raised my hand to strike her and cried, “Why?”
“Because maybe it wasn’t just a coincidence that we met in the first place.”
“What else could it be?” she pushed through clenched teeth.
“A cruel twist of fate,” I mumbled.
“HEY, PHIL!” I THREW A quick wave as I rushed past his perch behind the counter. Mrs. Henderson had sent me to the store for eggs, and since I was still grounded for staying out overnight a week ago, she was giving me fifteen minutes to return before she reported me missing, and she didn’t care what Wren Harlan had to say about it. I’d fled as quickly as I could for fear of the warmth thawing my heart. Those damn Hendersons were determined to show that they cared about me, and I was determined to show them why they shouldn’t.
“Look who it is,” Phil greeted. “You know, I’m surprised to see you!”
“Why?” I shouted back as I grabbed the carton of eggs, my usual bag of Chester’s hot fries, a Slim Jim, and a Ding Dong for Eliza.
“I’ve heard rumors.”
“Oh?” I couldn’t have sounded less interested as I tossed my snacks on the counter and slapped some money down.
“There’s been talk…about the company you keep.”
“What about it?”
“The name Wren Harlan mean anything to you?”
“Doesn’t ring a bell,” I lied easily. There was no real reason for me to lie. It wasn’t as if I ever bothered hiding my friendship with Wren, but it remained to be seen why it was any of Phil’s fucking business.
“I’m sure it doesn’t,” he retorted sarcastically. “You should know, though, that he’s bad news. People cross the street when they see him coming, and everyone knows he only comes around here for one thing.” His expression turned accusatory, and then he reached under the counter and brandished a shotgun. “He’s also the reason why I keep Martha close.”
“A little extreme, don’t you think?” I remained unimpressed when he cocked the shotgun although anger simmered in my gut. A fanciful part of me thought of Wren as invincible—my own superhero—but that didn’t stop me from wanting to protect him from douchebags like Phil who judged what they didn’t understand.
“Three bodegas on this block are now paying Exiled for protection,” he informed me as he bagged my items.
“From what?”
“Exactly.”
“I think you might be paranoid,” I teased, never letting on that my mind was racing. I already knew that Wren was Exiled, but until now, I’d never been forced to consider what that meant.
Wren wasn’t good to many, but he was great to me. Which only made the truth that he was a bad guy a hard pill to swallow. I also had to bear the guilt of knowing that there was nothing Wren could have done or had yet to do that would ever make me give him up.
“You just be sure to tell your boyfriend to stay the hell away from my shop,” Phil ordered.
“Bye, Phil.”
Stepping outside, I ripped open my chips with more force than necessary, spilling half the bag. Completely forgetting Mrs. Henderson’s deadline, I was in no rush to get back. The entire way, I was deep in my thoughts as I munched on what was left of my chips. I was halfway through the bag and still drowning by the time I reached my foster home, but then I heard his voice break through the water like a hand on my shoulder, pulling me back to the surface.
“Penny for your thoughts?”
I scanned the street until I found the source of my troubled thoughts watching me from the driver’s seat of his car. The tinted window was lowered only enough for him to speak through it. With Phil’s accusations still swirling around my mind—not to mention the festering wound from Wren calling me a cruel twist of fate—I got as close as I dared. It seemed like all