Punk 57(85)

I hear the cop breathing hard, turning angry. I don’t want to be difficult, but Dickwad can’t know who I am. I don’t want Misha Lare on the radar in this town. Not yet.

“Put your hands behind your back,” he orders.

I do as I’m told, and he moves around to put handcuffs on me.

“Wait, no!” Ryen argues.

But I look at her, softening my expression. “It’s fine. Don’t say anything.”

Don’t tell them who I am.

“Alright, I’m taking this one in,” the officer tells the other cop who’s busy on his walkie talkie. “Clear this out, and call Mr. and Mrs. Burrowes.”

The other officer nods and gets back on his radio.

The cop leads me out of the house, and I look at Ryen. There’s a million things I want to say.

I’m done here. I’m going home.

I’ll be anything you want, even gone if that’s what you need.

I love you.

But I just shoot my eyes up to Ten and tell him, “Make sure she gets home safe.”



An hour later I’m sitting in the police station, no longer handcuffed. I lean back in one of the chairs against the wall, my legs stretched out and crossed at the ankle, and my arms folded over my chest. A female cop is talking on the phone behind the counter, and I tap my finger under my arm, playing the tune we were working on at Sticks tonight in my head.

At least I got the watch back. I got both of what I came here for, so I should be happy.

Unfortunately, though, those things that seemed so important three weeks ago seem kind of trivial now.

“Why did he have your watch?” I hear someone ask.

I jerk, startled, and look up. Ryen leans on the corner next to my chair, probably having just come down the hallway from the entrance.

“That was the watch you were looking for, right?” she presses.

“How did you get here?” I sit up. “You didn’t drive, did you?”

“I’m sober,” she answers. “Now answer the question. What are you doing? What’s going on?”

I face forward again, leaning back in my chair.

I know I need to stop dodging, and I have no reason not to tell her, but where do I start? I want her to understand, but I also want to know if we can make it back to where we were in our letters and to where we were when I was Masen. I want to get there without her pity.

“You want me to trust you,” she points out, “but you’re still keeping things from me.”

I turn to her, opening my mouth to speak, but just then, three guys come down the hallway and enter the station, stopping when they see me.

I move to stand up, but my cousin pushes me back down.

“I’m sorry, man,” I rush out, hating that he had to come all the way down here.

But Will just smiles at me. “Getting arrested is a Thunder Bay boy’s rite of passage,” he jokes, beaming with pride.

I roll my eyes. Will’s two friends, Michael Crist and Kai Mori, stand behind him, looking amused.

I guess they would know. A few years ago, they reigned over my hometown when they were high school basketball heroes, and they haven’t left the limelight since. Simply exchanging notoriety for infamy.

Will crosses his arms over his chest, giving me a condescending look. “You should’ve been able to get out of this yourself, you know?” he chastises. “Watch and learn.”

He turns around, all three of them heading to the counter, no doubt with their best smiles on their faces.

Ryen shifts to my left, but we both remain quiet.

“Hi, I’m William Grayson, III,” Will says to the female cop. “Officer Webber, is it?” She darts her eyes between him and the other two, looking on guard.

“My grandfather is Senator Grayson,” he tells her, “and I really hope he’s your favorite person on the planet. He’s always supported police officers.”

I laugh to myself at his smooth voice, which is probably working on her. Kai leans on the counter, quiet but with a small smile on his face, while Michael, the lead point guard for the Meridian City Storm basketball team, stands tall and intimidating.

He reaches out a hand. “And I’m Michael Crist.”

“Oh, yes.” She smiles wide. “My husband is a huge fan.”

“Just your husband?” he teases.

A blush crosses her cheeks, and I want to puke.

She then shakes Will’s and Kai’s hands, exhaling a long breath, her demeanor suddenly happy and relaxed. “Well, what can I do for you gentlemen?”

Will leans on the counter, getting intimate. “Misha Lare Grayson is also the grandson of Senator Grayson, and our grandfather would consider it a personal favor to him if you would allow the family to deal with Misha.”

I can feel Ryen tense next to me, and I wince. Shit. Yeah, I forgot about not having told her that particular detail, too.

Will goes on, turning his head toward me, and the cop follows his gaze. “He’s kind of the black sheep—I’m sure you can tell,” he explains to her, as her eyes skim down my tattooed arms. “We’ll take him back to Thunder Bay, and he will not return to Falcon’s Well. You have our word. We’ll escort the little shit home right now.”

I grind my teeth together. Will’s eyes twinkle with laughter.