that’s how I feel about my siblings.” I shrug.
And now that I think about it, once I confess that I’m in love with him, I want to spend more time getting to know his brothers. I’ve only hung out with them on a couple of occasions, and those are the people closest to Keaton. I want to become a part of their group … and I want them to know how I feel about their brother. It’s just clicked as a very important thing I need to show them.
“Keaton, I wanted to come over to say—”
My sentence is cut off as his phone rings again.
“Goddammit,” he bites out and looks at it once more, then up at me. “I’m sorry.”
He clicks the button to answer it and lifts it to his ear, his tone pure annoyance. “What is it?”
I wait as he listens to whoever is on the other end of the phone, his expression growing more grave by the second. He starts to nod and then bites his lip, and while he still has the phone pressed to his ear, he marches to his bedroom and appears back in front of me with a T-shirt covering his once bare chest.
“I’ll meet you there in twenty.”
He hangs up abruptly and looks at me; his mind somewhere completely different. “That was Bowen. Fletcher is in serious trouble, I have to go.”
“Let me come with you!” I call at his back, the thought popping out before I can think.
“If you want to.” He doesn’t even turn around to look at me when he says it, and I try not to let that sting.
He’s just worried about his brother. This has nothing to do with the fact that I didn’t say I love you back to him the other night. Or at least I can hope that it doesn’t.
Keaton doesn’t speak the entire ride, and I don’t prod him. I can see the twitch of his jaw, the sharp set of his eyebrows, the way his knuckles turn white as he grips the wheel. My responsible, good man is speeding … something he never does. And it’s this … the body language he’s radiating across the truck, that has me panicking.
This is going to be bad.
I square my shoulders and take a deep breath, mentally preparing myself to be strong.
We pull onto a dirt road that winds deep between trees on an unlit road. About half a mile down, the forest breaks to reveal a plot of land that contains a broken-down, beat-up shack of a house. The siding must have been white at some point in time, but now it’s filthy and moss and leaves grow between the panels. Half the shutters have fallen off, the front porch steps look like they’d cause a broken ankle if stepped on, and there are half-built cars littering the lot. Garbage is scattered around the grassless land, and mud puddles mark the earth like bullet holes.
My heart rate spikes, because I know this isn’t the type of home where anything good happens. No … this is the site of something very bad, and I’m assuming, dangerous.
“Stay in the car,” Keaton grits out, his troubled eyes flashing to make sure I’m buckled in.
“Keaton, I don’t want you to go in there.” Some sixth sense has me wanting him to back down this driveway immediately.
“I’ll be fine. Stay here. I mean it, Presley.”
I nod, promising with my eyes that I’ll stay here. Keaton gets out just as another car pulls up, and I see Bowen meet him in the middle of the dark front yard. They talk quietly and then head up to the house. A flash of metal in Bowen’s hand tells me he’s holding a gun, and the organ trying to beat out of my chest suddenly jumps into my throat.
They disappear inside, and I’m all too aware that I’m sitting out here alone.
Fuck staying in the car. I know Keaton will be furious, but I’m not going to sit back while a person I love is put in danger. I’m done letting life happen to me.
The first thing that hits me is the scent of the air. It’s filled with chemicals and almost smells sour. Yelling from inside has me pausing at the front door, my hands shaking as I work up the nerve to push it open.
When I do, I’m hit with a cloud of invisible … something, and my nostrils flare. The house is more disgusting inside than it is on the