The Princess and The Jester - A.D. McCammon Page 0,45

seem absurd. Thatch had been unkind and sometimes downright cruel to Saint, all to avoid how he really felt. But he isn’t a psycho like Donavan. He’d never do anything to intentionally hurt Violet.

The same can’t be said for Shane. He enjoyed hurting Gwen; I witnessed it.

“Oh shit,” Arwen breathes. “Your face just got all dark and ominous. Quit spiraling.” She stops at a red light, her stormy eyes brewing with concern as they meet mine. “Look, the guy is an asshole, not an idiot. You warned him freshman year what would happen if he did anything to harm Gwen. And even if he did suddenly grow some balls, I’m sure we would’ve heard about it.”

Normally that’d be the case, but something tells me Gwen and Shane are the only two people who know what’s going on. I’m almost certain he’s bullying Gwen in some way. Blackmail, most likely. And I don’t even want to think of the things he’s forced her to do.

But I don’t say any of this to Arwen. She’s seemed happy and carefree the past couple of weeks. Something I suspect Aidan’s had a hand in. It’s a side of her I’m not sure I’ve seen. No way am I jeopardizing that for her.

If I share my suspicions, she’d worry. Or try to talk me out of doing anything until Thatcher gets back in town. But the Shane situation is something I’m capable of handling on my own. It’s something I need to take care of alone.

Arwen drives through the green light and turns into the mall entrance as I nod my head.

“Yeah, I’m sure you’re right.” My response doesn’t sound too convincing, and Arwen groans.

“Why do I feel like you’re bullshitting me? Please tell me you aren’t planning on doing anything crazy?” She pulls up next to my car, the rest of the parking lot completely vacant at this hour.

“Crazy is a term for the unimaginative,” I quip, winking at her before getting out of her GTO. “You’re still bringing Violet to Gwen’s tonight, right?”

She frowns as I lean down to meet her stare and then sighs. “We’ll be there.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

13 years old

COLE

Thatcher rolls his shoulders as we walk down the street, the music and commotion from the party growing louder as we get closer. “Are you sure this is a good idea, dude?”

I huff out a laugh. “Nope, but I’m done letting Shane mess with Gwen.”

She came home from school crying because that jerk told her fat girls weren’t invited to the party. This crap has to stop. I hear the way she talks about herself, see how insecure she is about her body.

Gwen is gorgeous, but she’s always got the kids in school telling her she’s not.

“I don’t get it. You say Gwen’s like a sister to you, but I wouldn’t be willing to get my ass kicked for my sister.”

Thatcher has been my friend for years now, but I still haven’t told him my true feelings for Gwen. No one knows. They see me as the caring brother figure in her life. Even when I get jealous of other boys paying attention to her, they think I’m simply being protective.

The truth is, I’m in love with her. Hopelessly and completely in love. Like a big fool. There’s no point in admitting that to anyone, though. We can’t be together. The temporary job my mom took at the Rhodes’ house to help us get back on her feet has lasted almost seven years, and she has no plans of finding another job or place for us to live. As long as she’s working for them, Gwen is off limits.

Not that it would matter if our circumstances changed. I’ll never be good enough for Gwen. She’s a princess, and I’m nothing more than the poor jester who puts a smile on her face.

“Your sister is a bitch.” I chuckle. “Gwen is my friend, and I care about her. Anyway, it’s not like Shane hasn’t terrorized us too.”

The first time I met Thatcher, Shane was harassing him. We’ve been bullied by him for years, though Gwen always seems to get the worst of it. He loves to single her out, taking every opportunity to make her feel bad about herself.

Thatcher nods, rubbing at the back of his neck. “He definitely deserves to be put in his place, but the coward isn’t going to face you alone”

“Oh, I know.” I grin. “That’s why I brought you.”

About six months ago, Thatcher found a new outlet for all