Mayhem At Prescott High (The Havoc Boys #3)(72)

“We’ll steal what we need,” Oscar explains, turning away and heading down the sidewalk like he expects us to follow after him. Hmm. I look down at Bernadette at the same moment she looks up at me.

“Is he just broken on the inside or something?” she asks, and I shrug. I have the urge to gather her up in my hoodie, snuggle her into the folds, and murder anyone who dares look at her wrong. Why not just do it then, Cal? You don’t have to hold back anymore. She’s ready to see who you really are. I gather Bernie close, enveloping her in my arms and putting my head atop hers, so that she’s completely wrapped up, completely protected.

“If he is, does it matter?” I ask, but she doesn’t answer. I know what she’d say though, if she bothered to tell me the truth: no, it doesn’t. Because we are her heart, just as she is ours. We beat and bleed together. “Come on, let’s get this over with, so we can go back to Aaron’s and fuck some more.”

Bernie hits me in the chest, but it’s a playful smack. When she reaches up her fingers to play with the scars on my throat, I let her. Only she can touch them. They are only for her.

I pull a small package of red licorice from my pocket and bite the end off a piece.

“You like to snack, don’t you?” she asks, and I shrug.

“If my body isn’t moving, my mouth might as well be.”

She laughs, falling into step beside me as we head down the sidewalk after Oscar. As we walk, I keep my gaze moving, looking for anything that’s out of place. If the Charter Crew rolls up on us, I’ll know. There will be no drive-by shooting on us while I still live and breathe.

“What do you think you’ll wear to the formal?” she asks, twisting that last word on her tongue like the ironic joke that it really is. Formal? Prescott High? Nah ah. No way.

“A hoodie and shorts?” I ask with a loose shrug of my shoulders. But then … “Or, really, that’s what I’ve always worn. I want to do better by you this time. What do you want me in?”

“I can pick your outfit?” she asks excitedly, and I shrug. I wore a tux to her wedding, despite the fact that I felt like the fabric was choking the life out of me. I prefer clothes I can move in. Don’t care if I’m dancing or fucking or spilling blood. It always makes the most sense to choose function over aesthetic.

“Anything you want,” I say, putting a hand over my heart. Oscar makes a sound of annoyance, but I don’t see why he’s so salty. If he could just open up and tell Bernie all his secrets, he’d see why we all needed her so damn badly. She’s here to stroke our demons down, pet them into submission, kiss them into fealty. Why can’t Oscar see that? I always thought he was a smart man. Not so much today. “As long as it doesn’t include sequins, glitter, or tulle. I wore far too many pretty dance costumes as a kid; I can’t handle that shit anymore.”

“Deal,” Bernie replies with a feral grin, tossing her pink-tipped blond hair over her shoulder. My eyes trail down to the scoop neck shape of her top and the tantalizing bit of cleavage. “What? Now that we’ve had sex, you get to perv on me all you want?”

“I mean, I don’t see why not …” I shrug my shoulders, tearing off another bite of licorice as Bernadette slaps my arm. There’s nowhere around here that’s worth walking to, so I’m not surprised when Oscar leads us down a narrow alley and over to Hael’s Camaro.

He’s tapping his hands on the wheel and singing far too loudly, and far too off-key for me to do anything but laugh.

“And you let us think you came alone?” I quip at Oscar as he opens the passenger door and steps aside, as if he’s as stoic and unmovable as he wants us to believe. It’s all a lie though, and I wonder if he’s ever going to get tired of carrying it? As much of a dick as he can be sometimes, he’s also my brother; I worry about him.

“You just assumed; I never confirmed or denied it.”

Bernadette sighs, and I notice that Oscar takes another step back to make sure he isn’t in range of her touching him. I know he doesn’t like to be touched, so the fact that he lets her do it at all is impressive.

“Hey, hey,” Hael says, grinning as we climb into the backseat. “How were those ‘dance lessons’?” He makes little quotes with his fingers and then chortles with laughter, as if he isn’t the sex addict in the car.

“You’re just jealous I didn’t invite you to join us,” I retort, leaning between the front seats and putting an elbow on either of my knees. “But you know you’ll always be my sweet honey, won’t you, Hael Harbin?”

“Aww, you know it,” he purrs, giving Bernie a look in the rearview. “You okay with that? If me and Cal run off together and I put him in a pretty white wedding gown.”

“Why does it have to be white?” Bernie quips right back, and Hael snorts. Oscar scowls at us when he gets in, like he doesn’t have time to act his age. He’ll be turning eighteen in January, but he acts like he’s in his late nineties or something, on the brink of death and done with his life. I hate to see him like that. Now that Bernadette’s here, it’s time for him to adjust those expectations. He owes her to at least try.

“Shit, you’re right,” Hael says as he turns the car around and carefully eases us to the end of the alley. I’m guessing he’s parked here to stay out of sight of Sara Young. We’ve been checking daily for any GPS tracking devices on the car, but so far, so good. Might not stay that way for long though. “Red would be best for me and Callum, in honor of my being a whore and all that.” Hael pulls us out into the street and then starts heading in the direction of the Fuller neighborhood.