Broken Beautiful Hearts(78)

“The condemned section is on the other side.” Tucker drops his skateboard and lets it roll ahead of him before he hops on. “It’s not that bad. Just be careful where you walk.”

The mill has a creepy steampunk vibe. I’ve never been inside any kind of factory before. I don’t put a lot of thought into how things are made, unless it’s soccer gear.

The truth? I thought mills were obsolete in general. In DC and Maryland, factories are clustered together in industrial parks. People don’t build them in the middle of the woods.

“Why would someone leave all this machinery behind?” I ask. “Isn’t it worth something?”

“Most of this equipment is outdated, like this place,” Owen says. “It was probably cheaper to leave it here. A country singer from Nashville was going to buy the place and turn it into a bed and breakfast. Then the northeast section of the building collapsed during a big storm and the singer backed out.”

I hear laughter and see more lanterns glowing in the next section of the building.

“Tucker.” Owen waves him over and Tucker hops off the board. “Stick with us or the Twins. And stay away from the condemned side. Okay?” He’s treating Tucker like his kid brother.

“Got it.”

Owen touches my waist as we walk through a dimmer section of the mill.

Grace and the Twins are just ahead of us, and they stop when they hear Tucker’s skateboard.

“Come on,” Christian calls from where he’s standing near a huge machine. “Everyone is back here playing Bullshit.”

“No one can come up with a new drinking game?” Grace asks.

Christian shrugs. “You know what they say: Don’t fix what isn’t broken.”

Cam watches Grace and his brother without saying a word. It’s not like him, but he’s been preoccupied since we left the game, tracking Grace’s and Christian’s every move.

On the other side of the rusty machine, people are sitting on crates around a makeshift table, playing cards. Titan is pouring beers from the keg behind him. April is perched on Dylan’s knee, nuzzling his neck and whispering in his ear, and Madison is hanging out by the keg, flirting with another basketball player.

The game has already started.

Tucker rolls in on his skateboard and Titan looks up from his cards. He flashes me a crooked smile that would pass for sexy if I didn’t already know that he was full of himself. He turns his attention back to the game and calls out, “Bullshit.”

“Your funeral.” Dylan picks up some cards from the discard pile and flips them over so they’re face up. “Like I said, two eights.”

“You know what that means!” someone shouts.

“No excuses and no do-overs,” a girl teases.

“When have I ever asked for a do-over?” Titan hops off the crate.

“Where is he going?” I ask Grace.

“He has to go down to the condemned section of the basement and bring something back up with him to prove he didn’t chicken out.”

“But that part of the building collapsed.” My stomach churns. I don’t like it in here. It feels too cramped.

“I know. It’s stupid,” she says. “But people never get sick of playing it.”

“Keep my seat warm,” Titan says, grabbing a can of beer. He jogs to the far corner of the room and ducks through an open doorway.

He went down there.

I try not to think about it, but I can’t stop watching the door and imagining this place falling down around us.

After nine minutes, Titan still hasn’t returned. I seem to be the only person worried about him getting crushed if the building collapses. I can’t stand the guy, but I’m not sure how much more of this I can take.

A figure bursts through the basement door.

Thank god.

Titan holds up a long pipe over his head. “I’ve returned! Don’t try to rush me all at once, ladies.”

“How do we know that’s really from the basement?” Dylan asks. “You could’ve found it on the stairs.”

Titan’s lips form a hard line. “Are you saying I’m lying?”

Dylan doesn’t respond right away. He’s either stupid or looking for a beatdown. “It’s part of the game. You’ve gotta have proof.”

Titan makes a sweeping motion from one end of the room to the other with his hand. “You see any other pipes lying around here, genius?”

He’s right.

“It’s dark,” another guy says. “Who knows?”

One of the cheerleaders struts over to Titan. “Don’t get worked up, y’all. I’ll settle this.” She examines the pipe like a museum curator and says, “It looks legit,” without providing any explanation.

Dylan seems satisfied. I hope he realizes that cheerleader just saved his ass.

April is standing behind Dylan with her arms crossed, and she looks annoyed. But she’s not paying attention to the game—and, for once, she isn’t staring at me. Her attention is focused on Christian and Grace, who are whispering and laughing a few feet away from me.

Christian leans against the wall, looking down at Grace, who is at least a foot shorter than him. Truthfully, they just look like they’re talking. They’re not hanging all over each other. But I doubt Cameron or April see it that way.