I say to Vandy, “that people like my impulsivity. They find it endearing, actually.”
V gives me a look that could kill, then turns to Sugar, sticking out her hand. “Hi, I’m Vandy.”
Sugar, back ramrod straight, stares at her hand and doesn’t take it. She bites out a slow, “I’m Sugar.”
“Oh, I like that name! Very unique,” V says with a smile. “You just transferred here?”
Sugar’s eyes dart to me and then back to Vandy. “Yeah, it’s my first day.”
“How was—"
I cover my mouth with my fist and cough. “Ahem.”
Neither look my way.
“How was it?” Vandy repeats.
Sugar’s eyes are still all tight and narrowed, but she tensely offers, “Okay, I guess. A lot different from my school back home.” I don’t miss the way her gaze jumps to her bag, like she’s calculating the distance between her and that knife she probably has hidden in there. “But I wanted different, so I can’t really complain.”
“I can’t imagine,” Vandy says, shifting her weight in a way that says that climb up the stairs hasn’t been kind to her. “I’ve basically gone here my whole life—”
“Are you shitting me?” I explode, anger bubbling to the surface. “Vandy! I brought you here for a reason! Not to make friends with the new girl!”
She whips around to glower at me. “What has gotten into you today?”
A hand rests on my shoulder and I jerk around. Georgia glares at me. “Bass, dude, you need to go.”
“I’ll go when Vandy tells her.” I thrust my hand in my hair. What’s wrong with these girls? Why won’t they back me up?
“You’ll go now,” Georgia says. “Or I’ll call Reyn and tell him you’re acting like a dick to V.”
“I’m not acting like a—” I look at V, whose lips form a thin line. She doesn’t exactly look hurt but I’m not seeing any Team Bass vibes from her. Unbelievable. These are my friends—my Devils—my girls. I’d take a bullet for them. If someone were messing with Vandy or Georgia, I don’t even care. Concussion or not, I’d be throwing fists. But here I am, getting fuck-all.
I throw up my hands. “Fine. Whatever. I don’t need to justify myself to any of you.” I cut my eyes at Sugar. Her expression makes it clear that I’m exactly who she’s been expecting me to be. “Fucking women.”
I storm out of the room, slamming the door behind me, knowing one thing for sure; I don’t need approval from any of them.
An hour later, I’m at the garage, blowing off some steam by pulling out the Mustang’s radiator hose. I spit a curse at a hose clamp and rip it away, the skin of my knuckles scraping harshly against a bolt.
“Motherfucker.” I hiss, watching as the blood runs down the back of my hand. I sag in defeat. This car has not been kind to me today. It’s almost like it knows I was a dick before and now it’s punishing me by proxy. “I’m not the bad guy here,” I growl at the engine.
Even I don’t believe it.
I still don’t believe it ten minutes later when Reyn’s Jeep and Emory’s truck pull into the parking lot. “Aw, shit.”
Merle’s in the back, finishing up his bookkeeping for the day, which is good, because from the looks on Emory and Reyn’s faces when they step out of their respective cars, whatever’s coming next isn’t going to be pretty.
Vandy climbs out of Emory’s truck, and she looks almost as pissed as they do, except her glare is trained on her boyfriend and brother. “You two, so help me god—”
Reyn walks right up to me and jabs a finger sharply into my chest. “You’re lucky you have a concussion, or I’d beat the shit out of you.” And from the look in his eyes, I know he means it. “Do you know how much pain she’s in from you dragging her up four flights of stairs? Tell me, Wilcox, what do you do when you’re in pain? Huh? Tell me!” He shoves me back, face wild with anger, and I can’t do anything but gawk back at him. “Do you take a little something to make it go away? I know you do, you piece of—”
“Reynolds!” Vandy’s voice is some crazy amalgam of fury and hurt, and fuck.
Fucking shit. V’s in recovery. If she’s in pain, she can’t take anything. “I didn’t realize—I didn’t know.”
Reyn spits, “You didn’t fucking care!”
Emory grabs Reyn by the shoulder and jerks him back. But if I thought he might