Broken Hill High (Broken Hill High #1)(11)

Shit. My heart races as a stranger walks through my home. Maybe I’m not ready to be left on my own. I mean, why the hell didn’t the security system pick up on the fact the someone was either coming through the gate or jumping it?

Fuck.

“Where the fuck are you?” I hear the familiar voice call out in annoyance.

My mouth drops open. That couldn’t be Nate, right?

I wait a little longer, waiting and watching until he steps into my line of vision.

I see red.

I storm out of my hiding spot and find him walking through the kitchen as anger bubbles up inside me. “What the hell do you think you’re doing breaking into my house?” I demand as I get right up in front of him.

He watches me as though I’m some kind of irritating rodent. “What crawled up your ass?” he grunts with that annoying smirk on his face.

“What are you doing in my house?”

“Take a fucking chill pill,” he says. “Mom sent me to check on you. Believe me, if I could, I’d be anywhere else but here.”

“Right, that’s great,” I smile. “You’ve checked and now you can get your ass out of here,” I tell him before turning my back and walking away. “Tell her I’m fine.”

The sound of the fridge opening has me stopping in my tracks. “Ah… what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

He searches through the fridge, but I don’t know what he’s looking for. There’s absolutely nothing in it. Well, nothing worth eating.

“What did you have for dinner?” he questions with a grunt.

“How is that any of your business?” I ask as I prop my hand on my hip.

He closes the fridge and turns to face me with his dark eyes piercing into me. “Answer the damn question, Tori,” he demands. “Or are you not eating again? You know, I’ve watched you throw out your lunch every day this week.”

My back straightens as I suck in a breath. How the hell does he know that? Nobody knows that. He didn’t just ask if I wasn’t eating, he asked if I’m not eating again like he knows about the other time. I desperately want to question him on it, but that’s not a conversation I’m willing to have, especially not with him.

The way he watches me with an impatient raised eyebrow has my jaw clenching as the anger takes over. I mean, how does what I put into my body have anything to do with him? I turn back and start heading for the stairs. “I hope the door hits you on the way out.”

I can just picture him narrowing his eyes on my back, probably fuming from not having his questions answered. It’s a basic rule around here; if one of the Ryder brothers tells you to do something, you jump, no questions asked. I’m sure the fact that he’s not getting what he wants right now is probably grating on his nerves just the way I like it.

I make it to my room and close the door behind me before laying back on my bed. I listen out for him to make his way back through the front door so I can go down and set the alarm for the night, only the sound never comes.

I’m about to go and figure out why the hell he hasn’t reacquainted himself with the front door when the door of my room flies open and Nate comes tearing into my room looking like a man on a mission. He walks over to my closet, grabs a bag, and starts ripping clothes off the hangers before shoving them into the bag as I lay here and gawk.

Words are lost on me as I watch the scene unfolding before me. He looks my way before looking back at the task before him. “Don’t just sit there,” he tells me. “Pack your things.”

“Um…. What?” I grunt.

“My mother promised your mother that she would look out for you, and right now, this bullshit where you don’t buy yourself groceries, you don’t eat, or lock the fucking door is not going to fly with her. So, pack your shit. You’re staying at my place,” he demands.

Those last few words have me jumping into action. I scramble up to my feet before storming into my closet and ripping my bag out of his hands. “Over my dead body,” I snap. “I’d rather die than sleep in a room next door to you.”

“Too fucking bad. You don’t have a choice,” he says, snatching the bag back and continuing throwing clothes into it. It doesn’t go unnoticed that he’s grabbing all my favorite clothes, though, I’m not surprised. After all, he makes a habit of glaring at me every day. “Now, pack your shit. I’m leaving in two minutes.”

I scoff as I walk back out of the closet and make a show of collapsing into my bed and pulling out my Kindle. “No,” I say. “No way in hell.”

“Fine by me,” he says. “But mom is going to ask me what happened when I came over here, and I’m sure she won’t be too pleased to find out you’ve forgotten to feed yourself all week. I mean, you know how our parents like to talk.”

Shit. “You wouldn’t.”

His eyes sparkle as he watches me and I know without a doubt that he would. “You want to make a bet?” he says with an annoying smirk that I want to slap right off his face.

I groan as I get myself to my feet and head into my bathroom. “You’re an asshole,” I yell over my shoulder. I can’t believe that dirty swamp turd. He’d rat me out to my parents, and knowing them, I’d end up in therapy again.

That damn rat bastard.