The Rake (Boston Belles #4)(83)

I broke my fingernails and tore my own flesh trying to get out of there.

And the worst part was, I knew I stood no chance.

My family wasn’t in the house.

My father left me for dead. Deliberately or not, I didn’t know, and at that point couldn’t care less.

If I died, they could try for another. My father would finally have the son he always wanted. Strong and tough as nails and never scared.

The water came all the way to my neck when I heard thudding across the hallway. Footsteps.

By that time, I was almost drunk with exhaustion and already came to peace with my fate. All I wanted was for death to be quick about it.

But this gave me new hope. I banged and I screamed and splashed, trying to draw attention to myself, swallowing water in the process.

“Devon! Devon!”

The voice was muffled by the water. My head was going under, but I could still hear it.

Finally, the dumbwaiter door pushed open. Gallons of water poured out of it—and so did I.

I fell down like a brick at the legs of the person who was now my savior. The saint who gave me mercy. I choked and flailed, like a fish out of water. Relief made me pee my pants, but I didn’t think anyone could tell.

Looking up, I saw Louisa.

“Lou,” I choked.

My voice was so hoarse, you could hardly hear it.

“Oh, Devvie. Oh, God. We were meant to meet up, don’t you remember? You never showed up at the barn, so I sent for you. But the driver didn’t want to leave the car, so I asked him to drive me here. The front doors were locked, but then I remembered you told me where the spare keys were …”

She fell to her knees, pulling me into her arms. Her voice hovered over my head like a cloud as I drifted in and out of consciousness.

“I promised I would always have your back,” I heard her say. “I’m so glad I got to you in time.”

We hugged on the floor. I slackened against her, my body so much heavier than hers—and still, she handled my weight without complaint. Thudding came from the stairs, and in the darkened hallway loomed the shadow of my father, big and bad and imposing.

“What did you do, you stupid girl?” he growled, seething. “He was supposed to die.”




Sweven was crying.

She didn’t even try to hide it for a change.

Tears ran down her cheeks, some slipping into her mouth, others rolling down her neck.

“I can’t believe the bastard put you through that. No wonder you ran away and refused to do what he wanted you to. Jesus. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Her whole body was quaking, back and forth. “You looked death in the eye, Devon.”

“Without blinking.” I pressed her knuckles over my lips, relishing the privilege of touching her. “You told me what made a hole in your heart, and this is why I have one in mine. This is why I’ve never gotten married. Why I hadn’t started a family. Something inside me knew that getting all the things I prevented Lou from having was just … wrong. I owe her my life.”

“She did what any decent person would do.”

“Is that so?” I asked idly. “Perhaps I haven’t met many decent people in my life.”

“Not wanting to be alone is not a sin.”

“Then why’d you give yourself the exact same fate?” I murmured into her hand.

She drew back, making a snow angel on the carpeted floor. Pouting and struggling to keep her sniffles to a minimum, she looked half-girl, half-woman.

A pregnant vision stuck in limbo between two worlds.

Too wise for her years and too scared to fall in love.

“Look what you’ve done. Now I can’t even hate her properly,” Belle sighed. “She saved you, after all.” She used that fake, exaggerated British accent she put on to hide her feelings when she was hurting.

I laughed, rolling over her, kissing her face, licking those salty tears away, my knee prying her legs open as I flicked my thumb along her nipple.

It was just like me to fall in love with the craziest woman on the planet.





Fourteen Years Old.



Coach Locken comes back to school four days after his son, Stephen Locken Junior, is born. His chest looks broader, his smile bigger, and I don’t know why, but I swear he looks more grown-up. His sudden maturity grosses me out.

I show up to practice. There’s no reason to leave a perfectly good scholarship on the table just because this guy is a grade-A asshole. But if he thinks I’m going to let him eat me out again, he is in for an unpleasant surprise—and probably a kick in the balls too.

Practice goes smoothly, considering I want to keel over and throw up every time I feel his eyes on my legs. I catch Locken trying to lock gazes with me a few times, but I avert my stare to avoid him.

When practice is over, he lets everyone go and claps my shoulder like a friendly uncle. “Penrose, come see me at my office.”

“I have calc in five minutes, Coach. Can we talk here?” I ask very loudly, straightening my spine to show off my height.

Everyone stops and stares. Ross raises an eyebrow. I realize that while I was under a teenybopper-induced haze, everybody on the team figured out there’s something going on between Coach and me. My face feels hot from the inside.

For the first time, I see Coach looking lost and a little shell-shocked. He recovers quickly.