Never His Girl (Kings of Cypress Prep #2) - Rachel Jonas Page 0,62
had to talk me down from clawing out her eyes the next time I see her, but the point is he told me without being prompted. Even at the risk of me losing my shit and blowing his cover the next time my path crosses hers, he didn’t hold back.
Almost like… he trusts me.
The shit with his dad has us both baffled, but I sure as hell intend to question Ricky about it. While I should be super suspicious of him, our history won’t allow it. Whatever he meant by that statement he made to West, there’s an explanation.
There has to be.
I still don’t quite know what to make of West, though. Not after getting off to such a rocky start, but the hatred I held isn’t nearly as potent. Actually, it’s possible I’ve let it go completely.
Staring down on him while he sleeps, using the pink teddy bear I got from Hunter on my tenth birthday as a pillow, it’s hard to consider him my enemy. Especially since I sort of identify with him on some level. If anyone can understand the effects of the parentals fucking you up in the head, it’s me.
A dog barks a few doors down and it makes him stir a little, but his hand doesn’t leave me. It makes me wonder if he slept with it there the whole night and I didn’t notice. There’s something about his brokenness I find beautiful. Maybe because it makes him real, flawed just like the rest of us.
I close my eyes, planning to just lie there until he wakes, but when someone’s heavy fist starts pounding the front door, we both sit straight up.
I’m on my feet, squinting into the sunlight as I peer out through my curtains.
“Shit,” I whisper, eyeing the familiar pickup parked just outside.
“Who the fuck is that?” West asks groggily.
“Someone you don’t want to cross paths with,” I answer, already rushing toward my bedroom door. “Wait here. Like, seriously. Don’t come out.”
West glares, trying to process the grim warning I’ve just given, but I don’t have time to stick around for him to respond.
Scar and I nearly collide when we rush out of our bedrooms and into the hallway, both trudging toward the living room. I make it to the front door first, and snatch it open, meeting Uncle Dusty’s stoic gaze.
“Morning,” I say warily, unsure what has him here so early.
“Morning, Kiddo,” he says sweetly, the tone of his voice coming nowhere near matching the fury with which he just nearly beat down our door.
My gaze shifts over his shoulder, to the badass muscle car parked out front. It sticks out like a sore thumb in this neighborhood, but I can only hope my uncle doesn’t know it belongs to someone inside this house.
Especially West.
Needless to say, he’s not exactly a fan of the guy after our little video went viral.
“I’ll only be a minute,” Uncle Dusty says next, confusing me when he grabs something he’s propped against the house.
“A door?” I ask, frowning.
“Yup,” is all he says. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve gotta take care of something before heading down to the diner. The girls can only hold down the fort for so long without me.”
He pushes past me and Scar, but when I glance at her, she doesn’t look nearly as confused as me.
“What did you do?” I mouth silently.
Instead of actual words leaving her mouth, she looks scared shitless.
We follow Uncle Dusty toward the hallway, where he stops in front of Mike’s bedroom. He props the door he carried in beside him, resting it against the wall. Then, without warning, he slams the sole of his large boot into Mike’s door, nearly kicking the thing right off the hinges. It flies open, hitting my dad right in his ass.
“Get the fuck up, Mike,” Dusty yells. “On your feet.”
Mike groans, but doesn’t move much. He’s pretty much in the same position as when Scar and I dumped him here. He sure as hell smells the same.
“We’re taking a little trip,” Uncle Dusty announces. “Turns out, there’s a nice little state-funded facility for shitbags like you, and lucky for your girls, they’ve got room for your sorry ass.”
Next thing I know, before I can even ask a question, Dusty wraps Mike in a faded, blue tarp, then grabs him by both hands to drag him back toward the front door. He stops there, taking a breath before parading my gem of a father down the sidewalk to his truck.