The Saint (Haven Grace Prep #2) - Kelsey Clayton
1
KNOX
It’s a funny thing, how weed, beer, and good company can make all your problems fade away. Zayn and Gage sit beside me, laughing as Stone tries to balance an empty bottle on his head. He’s so high that he doesn’t even realize when it falls onto the floor and shatters, continuing his attempt to remain completely still, his eyes rolling in his head as he tries to look at us.
“You moron. Clean that shit up,” I tell him, and only then does he notice the mess he’s created.
“Oh, shit. When did that happen?”
Zayn chugs the rest of his can of light beer—such a pussy—and throws it at Stone. “Balance that, bitch.”
Like a monkey doing tricks, he glares at him but then picks up the can to do exactly what he was told. I sigh and rub my forehead. I really need new friends.
Rapid pounding on the front door pulls my attention from the circus act in front of me. I groan, standing up and walking toward it. Another set of harsh knocks come just before I get there.
“I’m coming!” I shout. Jesus fucking Christ.
I pull the door open with a scowl on my face, but as soon as I take in the sight in front of me, it’s gone—along with my high. Grayson Hayworth—Pretty Boy, as I like to call him—is standing on my porch. His clothes are stained a deep red, blood covering almost every inch of him. Fury radiates from his body in waves as he grips at his brown hair. He may be a lot of things, but weak is not one of them. Whoever put him in this chaotic mental state should take cover if they’re not already lying in pieces somewhere.
“What the fuck happened to you?”
He shakes his head. “I need your help.”
I jolt awake, panting heavily and drenched in a cold sweat. My eyes search around the dark bedroom as my breathing starts to calm. The lack of light shining through the window tells me it’s still the middle of the night. Of course.
Slipping out of my bed, I make my way into the kitchen, ignoring my mom as I grab a beer from the fridge. Concern is etched across her face, and I can already tell she’s battling between minding her business and asking questions. She goes with the latter.
“Still having nightmares?”
I shrug. “Something like that.”
The fact that it’s so much more than a bad dream isn’t something she needs to know, nor does she need to know what it’s about. Hell, the only damn reason she’s aware something is wrong is because this house is small as shit and sometimes she can hear me yelling in my sleep. Thank fuck she hasn’t been able to figure it out.
Since I was younger, it’s only ever been the two of us. My dad ran out on us when I was two, and, despite the many times she’s tried dating, my mom has always been a single mother. She does her best, I’m sure, but making minimum wage at a diner has never provided us with anything beyond bare essentials. As for our relationship? It’s about as strong as this house—might crumble with a light breeze. I’ll always appreciate everything she’s done for me, but after the fifth time she disappeared with a new boyfriend and left me to fend for myself at the age of eight, I gave up on hoping she would ever become the mother I needed.
I pop the cap off the beer and take a large swig. The ice-cold liquid helps cool my body, allowing me to put that dream, that night, into the back of my mind–where it belongs. I put away two-thirds of the bottle in only a matter of seconds then retreat to my room. I probably won’t be getting any more sleep tonight, but at least behind a closed door I don’t have to deal with my mom’s half-hearted attempts at being parental.
THE SNOW-COVERED GRASS and the frigid January air are a harsh reminder of my least favorite season. I shiver in my black ripped jeans and long-sleeved shirt. A part of me wonders if I should go back inside to get my jacket, but as Stone pulls up, I decide against it. I jump off the porch and walk around to the passenger side.
“Took you long enough, asshole.”
He rolls his eyes. “Fuck off. I’ll make you ride your motorcycle in the damn snow.”
“Nah, you wouldn’t.”
“And why’s that?”
I pull the joint out of my pocket and wiggle