Hostile(7)

“Shut. Up.” She grips his jaw and then kisses him quickly on the lips, and he smiles. How a big-ass, stoic guy like Rhys is putty in a tiny woman’s hands, I have no idea, but he loves her. That’s for damn sure.

And it’s hard not to love Blair.

She turns back to me. “I am crazy, and I’m crazy about you, kiddo. You have to be okay. And if you’re going through something—”

I interrupt her quickly, trying to shut this down, “I’m not. I’m just eighteen and want to be independent. Blair . . .” How the hell do you explain this to someone who was a trust-fund kid like the kids I go to school with? “I’ve been in the system since I was six. By the time you got to me, I was already plotting my escape on my eighteenth birthday. Ready to get the hell out of there. And for whatever reason, even though you guys gave me a home, that feeling never really left me.”

There. That’s real. That’s an actual truth, and I can see Rhys gets it just by his eyes and the nod he gives me. But Blair . . . She was never in the system. She never felt the surreal abandonment of a parent legally signing away their rights to you because they didn’t want to, or couldn’t, deal. Giving you away to a broken system and never looking back.

How can she understand that? How can anyone who hasn’t lived it?

She only hugs me to her again when Rhys releases her. “Well, you can’t get away from me.”

“I’ve tried,” Rhys jokes, and she pulls away from me to elbow him playfully in the stomach. He makes an “oomph” sound and then pulls her to his side again. “Hey, I’ve accepted it now.”

“You’re better for it.” She levels him with a look.

He grins but doesn’t argue. “Damn straight.”

She huffs again, her small shoulders dropping slightly as she looks around at my place that’s essentially just a bed and dresser they helped move from my room at their house. “Okay, we’re going.” She hugs me again. “If you need anything, let me know. Anything at all.” She pulls back but is still hanging onto my shoulders. “And I may have stashed some cash around here.” She smiles wide as she starts toward the door. “But don’t worry. This place is small, so I’m sure you’ll find it all soon.”

“Blair . . .”

She’s already opening the door, making her exit with Rhys in tow. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Oh, I’m worried.”

“You should be,” Rhys chuckles and then gives me a small hug—he’s getting better about the hugging thing. “Take care, and we’re here.”

I nod my head, sticking my hands in my jeans pockets awkwardly because—feelings. “Thanks.” I look at the two people who have become my parents, no matter how hard I fought against it. “I, uh . . . Just thank you.”

Rhys nods, and Blair looks like she’s about to tear up, so she straightens her shoulders and steels her expression as best she can. “Love you. Dinner next week. I mean it.”

I pull my hands out of my pockets and put them up in mock surrender. “I got it.”

“Good.”

Finally, they head down the stairs and out to their car before I close the door and lock it. I move over to my newly made bed and flop down, gazing up at the ceiling.

Now what?





SIX





I only get twenty minutes of complete silence in my new apartment before there’s a knock on my door.

“Damn it, Blair,” I say quietly as I climb off my bed and walk to the door, pulling it open.

But it’s not Blair standing there. It’s Fletcher. “Hey, you gonna give me a tour or what?”

He has his backpack with him, slung over one shoulder, and his hair is perfectly styled. He’s wearing jeans and the sleeves of his button-down shirt are rolled up to his elbows. Fletch is one conundrum after another. A total nerd who looks like he came right from a modeling gig. Or a football game—even though he couldn’t throw a ball very far to save his life. He has no interest in sports, despite the many, many attempts made by every coach in our school. Baseball, basketball, soccer, and football all tried to grab him, but nope.

Fletcher is really into school for the learning.

So fucking weird.

Despite wanting to be alone in my new place, I’m really happy to see him. It feels like so long since we’ve spent the night under a different roof. And this is going to be weird.

“Come on in.” I move out of the way, and his big-ass body brushes past mine as he looks around my place with a low whistle.

“This place is a shithole.”

I shove his shoulder, and he laughs before I close the door. “Fuck you.”

He chuckles and flops down on the edge of my bed after dropping his bag to the floor, making himself at home. “I’m kidding. It’s not bad.”

“Yeah.” I sit next to him. “I like it.”

I know him well enough to know he wants to say something, but he’s holding back as we sit there in silence.

“What’s up, Fletch?”

He chuckles nervously, looking at the wood floor that’s pretty shiny for a shithole. “I asked Bree if she wanted to come with me to see this place.”

I tense up at the mention of Bree, and he notices, no doubt.