Path of Destruction (Broken Heartland, #2)(8)

When a black truck roared into the parking lot, all thoughts of Hayden and his grandpa vanished.

Tan legs peering out from shorts entirely too short to be appropriate for school stepped out of the truck first. He recognized her boots on sight and knew exactly why she’d worn them. Her shirt was red and blue plaid? and had belonged to her brother. It was only half-ass buttoned as if she’d managed a few and said to hell with the rest. Her eyes were shielded behind gas station sunglasses Kyle had bought on a road trip to OSU.

Cooper recognized all the familiar things about her, but it was what was different that he couldn’t identify accurately. Heads of several other latecomers turned as she strode past them without a pencil or notebook in sight. She pocketed the truck keys without looking up at him. Cooper reached out and took her elbow.

“You don’t have to do this, you know. Take another week, Ellie May. Hell, take two more weeks. You won’t miss a damn thing.”

She arched a brow behind the glasses before lifting them onto her head.

The rims of her blue eyes were red as if she’d been crying and her face still bore faint marks of abuse from the battering the woods had given her in the storm. Cooper’s chest tightened as her pain pressed against him. If there was one thing he knew about Ella Jane Mason, it was that, once she made her mind up about something, there was no going back. It was the reason he hadn’t made a move after seeing her with Pretty Boy. She’d already made her choice.

Or had she? Had she even known her options?

He watched as she looked helplessly at the enormous columns barring the front entrance of Summit Bluffs High School.

For whatever reason, she was determined to do this. So he was determined to be there for her. Taking a deep breath, he offered her his arm.

Surprisingly, she took it.

Cooper’s mind ran through the multiple hazards that she might encounter as they walked up the steps. Rich bitches who’d make fun of her, Pretty Boy and his arm candy, teachers who might bring up her brother or give her shit about not talking. Steeling himself, he pulled the tinted glass door open for her. Whatever came at her, he’d be there—protecting her, shielding her from any potential and unnecessary pain.

He told himself that being her stand-in big brother was temporary. He’d just fill this role for now, because right now, this was what she needed. But maybe in time, he’d gather the courage to ask her to be something more.

A late bell rang and the halls began to clear completely. A low whistle and an unexpected tightening on his arm caught his attention. He glanced at EJ then followed her line of sight.

What he saw settled on his chest with a pressure equivalent to what she was exerting on his arm. Cooper didn’t know how this combining of rival schools was going to play out or whose dumbass idea it was, but one thing was for certain.

There was about to be a whole lot more damage in the state of Oklahoma.





If ever a day had been the most f*cked up it could possibly be, this was it.

He’d dreamt of her. And he was never one to remember his dreams. But today, he did. He was pretty sure it was the type of dream he couldn’t forget even if he tried.

She was smiling—until it began to rain. Then tears slicked down her face until he couldn’t tell the difference between them and the rain. He reached to wipe them away, feeling weighed down into the mud by her pain. She jerked back and broke into a full sprint toward the oncoming train.

“Ella Jane,” he called out, but his voice was drowned out by the blasting blare of train horn. He tried to chase after her but his legs were heavy, sinking deeper and deeper into the mud. “Wait, dammit. Wait! Please!” he screamed. But she kept running full speed despite the blaring horn.

The moment she stepped in front of it, he woke up, his body thrusting instantly upright as he tried to scream her name once more.

The train sounded the alarm again and he looked over to see his cell phone attempting to wake him.

Jesus.

His English Bulldog, Atticus, startled awake next to him.

“Sorry, boy,” Hayden said, his voice still thick with sleep. “Bad dream.”

He reached over and gave the dog a rough rub over the head and behind the ears. Atticus licked his face once before hopping off the bed and marching out of the room. Hayden fell back onto the mattress momentarily, closing his eyes and picturing her face.

Just like in real life, he couldn’t reach her, couldn’t get her to reach out to him.

As if that hadn’t been a rude enough awakening that left him with a dull ache in his chest, he got to spend breakfast arguing with his mom over his grandma. She’d wandered out to the backyard the night before and slipped and fallen in the pool. If he hadn’t looked out the window in time to yell down to his dad to pull her out, they’d probably be planning her funeral this morning.

“It’s not safe for her here, Hayden. Look what happened yesterday.”

“We need an alarm on the doors like we had when I was a kid. And a lock on the pool gate,” Hayden countered.

His mom sighed and cast a pleading look at his father, who busied himself sipping coffee and scrolling across the screen of his tablet.

His grandfather might have died in the storm, but his voice lived on in Hayden’s head. Reminding him to man up, to do what was right, and to stop being the selfish, spoiled * his parents were raising him to be. He wasn’t a kid anymore. He could decide who he wanted to be despite them. And what he wanted to be was a decent grandson who honored his grandfather’s memory by taking the best care possible of the person he’d loved more than anyone.