Stain (Stain #1)(63)

I help her slip her shirt back on and can’t help dropping a kiss on the curve of her shoulder. “You don’t know how badly I want to keep you.”

Setting her hands on my shoulders, she rises to her toes. “I’m yours,” she whispers with a kiss. “Keep me, Max.”

Yeah, so damned f*cked. And the most terrifying thing is I don’t mind it at all.

***

Aylee



It’s nearing eight pm when he drops me off about a block away from my house. From his idling truck he asks for my phone, and as soon as I’m done rummaging through my bag to find it I put it in his hand. Peering over, I see him pull up the keypad, he enters a number before inserting his contact simply under the letter M. Handing the phone back, he silently hops out of the truck, coming around to stand with me on the sidewalk. I don’t want him to leave but I remember that his foster father needs him, and I curb my selfishness. He closes the space between us in one long stride. Cupping my face between his hands, he leans in to kiss me ever so slowly. Then he pulls away but keeps his forehead against mine.

“Don’t hesitate to call me if you need me.”

I sigh, the action of walking away is brutally painful. “I won’t. I hope your foster father is okay.”

My only sliver of comfort is that he doesn’t seem like he wants to leave either. “I’ll text you, let you know what’s happening. Try to head to your room and lock the door. I’ll come back for you—”

There’s a long honk from the black Accord that pulls up behind where Maddox’s truck is parked followed by, “Yo, Maddox, let’s go!”

“Go, I’ll be okay.” I put a hand on his chest to push him away but he doesn’t budge. I glance up curiously. “Max?”

He lets me go only to unhook the sterling chain bracelet from his wrist. Taking my hand, he double wraps it around my left wrist before closing the clasp. “Stay safe for me, all right?” he asks softly after he kisses me.

“I will. I…” Love you gets stuck in my throat. “I will. Go, or your friend is going to have an aneurysm.”

He chuckles and presses one last kiss to my forehead before running to hop in the driver’s seat and takes off. I don’t start walking until I see the taillights of his truck disappear around the corner.

I hitch my backpack further up my shoulders as I steadily make my way to the house. I dread every single step. Even though I went through that earlier process of telling Rachel I’d spend the night at Mallory’s, I’m sure she won’t complain if I tell her I changed my mind and decided to come home instead. Roughly five minutes later, I’m walking up to the front door. I frown at the sight of the very familiar white Mercedes parked next to the Durango in the driveway, occupying the space where Rachel’s Acura is usually parked. I can only assume Rachel isn’t home. But what brings on the intense wave of panic is the thought that Mallory is at my house. Am I about to be busted for lying?

Why is she here? She told me she’d cover for me in her earlier text, so what the hell is she doing here?

Once inside, I just need to make it upstairs without anyone noticing me. And I’m praying she has a good excuse as to why she’s here and hope she isn’t trying to get me in trouble. I know she doesn’t care for Maddox but this is ridiculous. I’m also hoping that Rachel won’t tell Tim of my plans. But deep down I know that’s not the case, because Rachel tells Tim everything. I’m praying so hard that this time she won’t. I pray wherever she is now, it’s preventing her from calling him. The weight of lead is in my next footsteps as I open the door and silently head inside, closing it behind me. The foyer is dark but there are lights on in the kitchen. Leaving my bag at the door, I search the far left wall for the nearest light switch. I jiggle it up and down but nothing happens. The bulb must’ve burnt out, I muse mindlessly.

Turning to my right, I come to a stop just below the staircase and listen to the almost eerie quietness of the house. It’s never this quiet. Rachel or Sarah can be trusted to always make noises. And I know Rachel isn’t home, but I’m hoping Sarah is here. I head upstairs, cringing when the stairs creak. I’m holding my breath, praying I make it to my room before Tim creeps out of the shadows somewhere. And then I hear it. A succession of breathy giggles that come before the familiar alto of Mallory’s voice. It’s coming from down the hall. It’s coming from inside Rachel and Tim’s bedroom.





Chapter 23


Aylee


Going against my better judgement, I tentatively make my way down the hall.

The sound of Mallory’s voice speaking to Tim so casually turns my stomach. “This is pretty ballsy of you, inviting me to come over when Rachel could come home any time now.”

“She won’t be,” he replies cockily. “I arranged a last-minute spa weekend for her and Sarah. They’re not coming back until Sunday.”

The sounds of my footsteps are consumed by the carpet and I’m grateful that it muffles the creaky floorboards. I come to their door that’s been left slightly ajar, and another one of Mallory’s giggles deepens my frown. She only giggles like that when she’s high. “So that gives us a few hours before I have to go get Aylee.”

“And where exactly did you say she was again?”