After ordering two cases of beer at a dumpy drive-thru liquor store that sold to anyone with cash and a fake ID, we headed to the Old Jenkins place. The field resembled a new car lot by the time we pulled in. About ten guys were standing around, most with a beer in one hand and some form of weaponry in the other. Logan turned the car off and reached behind his seat to grab us a beer. “You coming? Trish and Leslie are here.”
Oh joy. Eyeing two blondes who were making a serious job out of stacking beer can targets like the letter-flipping girl on Wheel of Fortune, I held up the beer he’d handed me. “Think I’m gonna opt out.”
“I’ll be quick.” Logan grabbed his beer and went to join the other great white hunters.
Guzzling my beer, I cranked the stereo in a weak attempt to drown out the sound of gunshots and my annoyance for their pathetic boy game. I couldn’t figure out the appeal; was it the thrill of hitting a target, the sin of underage drinking, or the multi-tasking of the two? Several ear-splitting rounds of ammo and two empty beer cans later, I concluded it was simply a celebration to show off the newest toys they’d bought with their parents’ money.
The sunset faded into the horizon as the guys finished up their beers and gathered their empty cans and targets before heading to their vehicles. They might’ve been idiots, but at least they were environmentally conscious idiots—or they didn’t want to be banned from their shooting range. Yipping and hollering, they took turns revving their engines and stirring up dust on their way out. By the time Logan got into the car, we were the only ones left.
“See, not too bad, huh?” He leaned across the console to kiss me but ended up knocking over my beer.
“Shit!” I swiped at the puddle in my lap and tried to remember how to breathe.
“Oops.” Logan grimaced and reached into his glove box for some napkins. “Mm, guess it’s a good thing you brought a change of clothes.”
Even though my dress was soaked, I wasn’t about to change my clothes here. “I can change at Barney’s—it’s on the way to the party.”
Glancing at the empty field surrounding us, he said in a soft voice, “It’s just the two of us out here. Don’t you trust me?” He edged toward me and slipped his hand onto my knee.
“Of course,” I answered, but pushed it off.
Catching my hand in his, he raised it to his lips. “You know I didn’t mean to spill beer on your mom’s dress, right?” He kissed each of my knuckles as his smoky gray eyes searched mine. “I bet she would’ve been proud of you tonight.”
My eyes stung. Dammit. He always knew the right thing to say and when to say it.
Allowing time for that to sink in, he started again, “I was sure proud of you tonight. You were the prettiest girl out there.” He moved in closer, his breath tickling the hollow of my neck as he spoke. “Prettiest girl in Dahlia.”
Shivers crawled up my spine, and even though I knew he was full of shit, the attention felt shamelessly good. The beer made me more relaxed, he was the master of charm, and I didn’t completely trust either one of us, so I edged away from him. “Let’s go, Logan. Everyone is probably at the party by now.”
He groaned in defeat and turned the ignition. “First stop, Barney’s.”
Barney’s, named after the owner, was the only diner in town and my second place of employment. It was basically a concrete building that reeked of grease, cigarette smoke, and more than its fair share of small talk. That description pretty much fit Barney, too.
After Logan parked in the crowded gravel lot, I grabbed my bag from the back seat and hurried in to change.
“River,” called a husky voice to my right.
My lips lifted at the sound of the familiar voice but froze mid-smile when I turned to see Justice slouching against a pool table beside some girl I didn’t recognize. When I caught her arm draped around his waist and her thumb hooked in the loop of his jeans, my stomach lurched like I’d been sucker punched.
Justice scanned my face. “What happened to you?”
Besides finding some red-haired hoochie you’ve never uttered a single word about tangled around you like an octopus?
Justice raised his eyebrows higher, waiting for my answer, and I struggled to remember the question. “Oh, um…” I brushed my palms against my soaked dress and remembered. “Logan knocked a beer over.”
“You okay?” He stood straighter and his date moved with him, ensuring her arm didn’t get displaced. “You seem pretty upset.”
Maybe because I am—on multiple levels. Besides the whole beer-on-Mom’s-dress thing, you failed to mention to your best friend that you have a girlfriend, and honestly, it feels like I’ve been punched. By a gorilla.
“No…I mean, yes. Everything’s great.” I forced a smile.
“River?”
“Justice, I’m fine. I’ve…I’ve had a couple beers, no big deal.” I could tell by the way he set his jaw that he wasn’t going to let me by with any weak explanations. But if I didn’t hurry, Logan would come to check on me, and I wasn’t up for a second round of introductions between the two most important guys in my life. And since, technically, I had no sensible explanation for the unfamiliar ache in my stomach, I went with the one Justice could understand. “This was my mom’s dress, that’s all.” I tugged at the dress’ skirt.
“Oh,” Justice rubbed at his jaw, “I’m really sorry.”
A needle-like pain pricked my heart. Logan didn’t even apologize, and he was the one who spilled beer on me.
“I better go change,” I said, averting my eyes so Justice couldn’t read me anymore. If he did, it would be hard to hold it together considering the day I’d had. Besides, it wasn’t exactly a conversation I wanted to have with him when some girl had her tentacles wrapped around him.
When I got to the bathroom, I quickly peeled off the wet dress and changed into a white tank top, blue jeans, and my brown cowboy boots. I took a minute to smooth down my unruly waves, apply-cherry chapstick, and fasten the top button on my tank top, then stole a quick look in the mirror.
You can do this, I whispered to the mixed-up girl staring back at me. Logan adores you. Justice is your best friend, which is why he didn’t bother telling you about the new girl. Ughhh…I undid the top button on my tank top. Logan appreciated it when I showed a little cleavage—emphasis on little.
Knowing the only way out meant walking past Justice and his date, I slung my bag over my shoulder, sucked in a deep breath, and pushed the door open.
Before I could slip past them, Justice grabbed my arm gently. “River, wait. I’m sorry I didn’t introduce you two when you first walked in. Guess I was a little distracted.”
Makes two of us.
“Trina, this is my best friend, River. River, this is my date.”
On his last word, my fist closed around the strap of my bag. As if my day didn’t suck enough already.
I extended my arm for a handshake and waited while she forced herself to unwind her arm from Justice’s midsection to accept my offer. “Nice to finally meet you,” she drawled as she bared her teeth, exposing her unusually sharp canines. “I’ve heard so much about you.”
I scowled at Justice and blurted, “Well, that’s one of us.”
When her face fell, I immediately felt like a jerk. I handled that no better than Logan handled meeting Justice. “I’m sorry, that came out wrong. What I meant was, I’ve barely seen Justice lately, so he hasn’t had a chance to update me on his exciting news.”
She grinned like I’d just given her a lollipop, but then frowned like I took it away when he moved away from her and hooked his arm around my waist. “Smooth…real smooth,” he said as he urged me toward a less crowded space near the door
“Which one?” I smirked. “My comment, or my save?”
His eyebrows creased. “Neither.”
“Geez, I said I was sorry.” I glanced up at him.
“That’s not why I dragged you over here.”
“Then what is it? I’m kind of in a hurry; Logan’s outsidew—”
“I don’t care about him,” he shut me down. “I care about you. Which is why I’m going to ask you to do something for me.”
I glanced at the clock above the doorway. “Can this wait?”
“No.” Justice’s green eyes trained on me like the sight of a shotgun. “It can’t.”
I exhaled because it was the second part of the breathing pattern I needed to complete in order to withstand his piercing orbs. “You know I’d do anything for you.”
He nodded. “That’s what I hoped you’d say.”
My thumbnail scraped against the coarse strap of my bag, a gnawing deep inside warning me I wasn’t going to like his request. “Shoot.”
The exit door squealed open and my shoulders tensed, expecting it to be Logan. Relief washed over me when a guy wearing head-to-toe camo walked in. Before the door closed behind him, I caught a glimpse of Logan in his car with his head turned, talking on his cell.
“Please,” Justice lifted his chin toward the parking lot, “don’t sell your soul to the devil.”
I straightened to all five-foot-six and three-quarter inches of me. “Why would you say that? You don’t even know Logan.”
He put a gentle hand on my upper arm, his eyes begging. “I know enough.”
Tired of unwanted advice, I jerked away from his touch. “I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.”
Hurt and confusion swirled in his eyes, and it sent my heart tumbling. Maybe he wasn’t trying to be a jerk about Logan. Maybe he was only trying to protect me like he would anyone he cared about—like he would a friend. But dammit, why couldn’t he support me?
“I’m just concerned…” He ran his hand through his dark waves.
Concern was great, but it wasn’t enough. As much as I fought it, I wanted more, and Logan offered that. I motioned my head in the direction of Justice’s doe-eyed date staring in our direction. “There’s where your concern needs to be. I can handle Logan.”
A horn honked three times, and I wished I was invisible.
Logan’s Mustang purred as he stopped to pay at the ballpark’s entrance gate. After he handed the guy a twenty, he rolled up the window to keep out the gravel dust, then found a parking spot near the back of the crowded lot. He cut the engine, reached behind his seat for a paper bag, and pulled out a fifth of Elijah Craig.
“You promised you wouldn’t drink whiskey anymore.”
“You must’ve misunderstood.” The seal cracked when he unscrewed the lid. “I don’t make promises I can’t keep.”
Uneasiness crawled up my stomach and lodged in my throat. “But…you, um, remember what happened last time…”
He smiled. “I remember you promising you’d never bring that up again.”
It happened two months ago. At first, I thought it was a rumor like everything else; after all, we were talking about honor student football heroes. Logan and his best friend, Red, got jumped by four well-known troublemakers from my school. After Red went down, they went after Logan, busting his nose and bruising two ribs before Red pulled out a gun and fired it, grazing one of them on the arm. Several hundred-dollar bills in hush money exchanged hands, but the story was leaked anyway.
No one really blamed Red for firing the gun to save his friend, and the guy’s injury wasn’t serious, but it stirred up a frenzy of gossip—the last thing Logan’s dad needed considering he was about to run for mayor. The rumor died as fast as it started when the police questioned the guy and he claimed it was a simple accident involving some friendly target practice.
I had a feeling his story revision had more to do with something I discovered several days before the police questioned him. I’d gotten off work early one night, and since the party was in familiar territory, I decided to surprise Logan. But when I showed up at the party, I couldn’t find him, so I walked away from the crowd to call him on my cell. What I found was Red bent over the supposed snitch, one knee on his chest pinning him to the ground, and Logan standing behind him holding a pearl-handled gun in his hand.
I freaked out, but Logan quickly explained that the whole thing was a misunderstanding. He claimed the incident was just Red teaching the guy a lesson about taking their money and ratting. And when Red took it too far, he intervened and took the gun away from him. Then he made some joke about Red being a lousy shot.
I questioned Logan at first, but when Red and the other guy assured me he was telling the truth, and that the gun belonged to Red, I let it go. Later that night, Logan further described the first incident, detailing how he’d truly feared for his life. He insisted that if it weren’t for Red and his loyalty, he might’ve been seriously injured or worse. Once I put myself in Red’s position, I realized I would’ve done whatever it took to protect my best friend, too.
Regardless of the outcome in both situations, Logan had been drinking whiskey, and he’d assured me nothing like that would ever happen again. I assured him I wouldn’t tell a soul as long as he meant it.
“How about you worry about you, and I’ll worry about you?” He touched the mouth of the bottle to my chin and the bitter firewood smell rushed my nose. “I can handle this.” He took a long drink, then wiped the back of his hand across his daring smile. “Now, pretty girl, you wanna stay in here and fog up these windows, or are you ready to go out there and party?”
“Almost,” I answered and reached for the bottle. If whiskey could alter your personality, maybe it could erase your memory.
With raised eyebrows, Logan released the whiskey and watched me take a gulp. “You never drink whiskey, what’s—”
Holy shit! Whiskey apparently tasted the same as it smelled—like firewood—lit firewood. I thrust the bottle back in Logan’s hands, then motioned wildly for him to pop the trunk. I flung the door open and raced to the back of the car. Ice rattled and sloshed when I shoved my hand into the cooler and fished out a cold beer.
Logan met me at the back of the trunk, laughing. “What’s got into you?”
I opened the beer and chugged down several drinks, cooling the flame in my throat and chest. “On top of my horse dying today, I miss my mom, and my imposter father didn’t show up for my awards ceremony,” I blurted out, shocking myself and breaking my own code of silence to reveal as little personal information as possible.
Confusion flashed across his eyes. I never told him about my recent discovery.
“Yeah, I found out Jack wasn’t my biological father about a month ago. And I know I shouldn’t care if he came tonight or not. I mean, he’s not even my real father, and it’s not like he’s ever acted like a real father, but…” I sucked in a jagged breath, closed my eyes for a few seconds, then exhaled the pain away, “he’s the only one I’ve ever known.”
Logan’s face softened into the dreaded look of pity. “You gonna be okay?”
In an effort to keep it together, I shrugged like it was no big deal. “In about a year, when I can move out of his house.” I was going for my usual nothing-can-touch-me tough act when my voice betrayed me and revealed I was just a wimpy little marshmallow instead.
“It’s okay.” Logan pulled me toward him and wrapped his arms around me. “I’ll take care of you.”
This was the kind of statement that normally repulsed me—one of those cheesy movie lines the big hero guy says to the damsel in distress. But for some reason, my shoulders relaxed, and I allowed myself to melt into his protective shield. It had been a really long time since anyone had taken care of me.
Time stood still, and every part of me took comfort in his warm embrace. I could’ve cried a million tears, but I didn’t want to risk scaring him away. I wanted his strong arms around me for as long as it lasted. I was oblivious to everything until someone cleared their throat. “Hey Westfield, party’s that way,” a guy wearing a navy polo shirt and holding a red Solo cup teased as he walked past us to his car.
My cheeks heated up and I pulled away.
Logan laughed and gave him a chin-lift, then turned to me, all blue eyes and sexy grin. “He’s wrong.” He hooked his finger in the unbuttoned V of my tank top, drawing me back to him. “The party’s wherever you are.”
“Logan…” My mouth watered; his lips were so close to mine. I ached for him to kiss me, but I didn’t want to give him the wrong idea—not when we were only steps away from a makeshift bed. Things had heated up between us lately, and it was getting tougher to keep him at bay. I closed my hand around his and pushed him away. “Party’s that way.”
He groaned and shook his head. “You’re a tough one, River Daniels.” He grabbed a couple beers out of the trunk before slamming it shut. “But I don’t give up easily.”
“I don’t want you to give up.” I smiled up at him when he hooked his arm around my neck. “I just want you to slow down.”
“Slow’s not exactly in my vocabulary.” He winked, then steered us toward the crowd. “But I might make an exception for you.”
A chill started at the base of my neck and spread all the way to my fingertips. “Might?”
Loud yelps interrupted any response Logan might’ve had as several guys wearing Winston High ball caps called out to him from a cluster of picnic tables. High fives and guy handshakes were exchanged between Logan and about eight guys—most of which I recognized as his teammates. I recognized a few of the girls who greeted Logan, most of them the cheerleader girlfriends of his buddies. The guys were friendly, but not one of the girls bothered to have a personal exchange with me—unless you counted sugary smiles and yard-sale-like item appraisals.
“Where the hell you been, dickhead?” Red greeted him.
Logan smirked. “Takin’ care of business.”
Red glanced back and forth between Logan and me, then nodded like he’d just received confirmation he had the correct numbers on his Bingo card.
Logan reciprocated Red’s fist bump, and I scowled at him.
With an impish grin, Logan pecked me on the cheek and pulled me in front of him, my back resting against his chest as he wrapped his arms around me. The envious glares I got from several of the girls made my annoyance at his comment fade. Logan was the only thing I had that they didn’t.
Country rock music drifted up from the pavilion where the band played, and what looked like a hundred teenagers were dancing under the covered area. The surrounding area was crowded, too—it looked like every kid in the county was here—which didn’t usually equal harmony. You could always count on a fight or two at these field parties, and at some point, the cops would usually show. They didn’t stick around—just long enough to shake the dust off of their megaphones and hand out a few tickets to meet their monthly quota.
I was basking in Logan’s attention, barely aware of the after-party plans his friends were making, when the conversation suddenly took a sharp nosedive. One of Winston High’s cheerleaders—Logan’s ex-girlfriend, to be exact—zeroed in on me with her bright green eyes. “So, how did you meet Logan?”
A sinking feeling in my stomach told me this wasn’t going to be a friendly chat, and I itched to join my friends at their usual hangout under the pavilion.
Logan spoke up. “River is a horse trainer for my parents.” Not exactly my title yet, but it sounded better than exercise rider or shit shoveler.
The glint in her eyes told me it wasn’t the answer she wanted, nor was she finished with me. I chipped at my freshly polished fingernails as she posed her next question. “So, what’s everybody doing over summer break?”
Lucky for me, these girls loved to talk about themselves. A bobble-head cheerleader wearing a pink and turquoise plaid sundress happily volunteered, “I’ll be doing multiple cheerleading clinics throughout the state before I head off to Harvard.”
Logan put his hands over my fidgeting fingers, kissed me on the neck, and whispered, “You’re with me. They’ll play nice.”
There was not one ounce of me that believed these divas would play nice, but for Logan’s sake, I forced myself to relax and enjoy the show.
Bobble-head cheerleader dressed in a red Ralph Lauren polo and skinny jeans retracted her tongue from her date’s throat long enough to respond, “I’ll be doing charity work at a homeless shelter for orphans and wayward teens and leprechauns.”
Okay, maybe those weren’t her exact words.
Bleached blonde bombshell bobble-head cheerleader wearing a revealing cami and short-shorts did the splits in midair and said, “I’ll be doing…” My brain inserted her actual activity, several members of the football team.
Since I was only one bedazzled, tank top-wearing bobble-head cheerleader away from it being my turn to share, I pulled away from Logan and whispered, “Hey, I’m gonna escape before it’s my turn for show and tell. I’ll catch up with you later.” Then I disappeared before he had a chance to respond. He would appreciate that I didn’t traumatize anyone by revealing my summer plans to work two jobs so I could save up enough money to eventually move out of my fake father’s crap-hole trailer. Sure, that’d be after my prestigious horse training camp, but riding horses for ten hours a day wouldn’t impress them, either.
The familiar catcalls and two-fingered whistling led me straight to Billi Jo, who held up a beer, praising the band. It appeared Kat had won half the battle over Billi Jo’s wardrobe because she’d exchanged her basketball shorts for a ragged-edged denim skirt, but she still sported the ball cap and her trademark red Chucks. She might have unsalted cracker looks and a don’t-care attitude on the outside, but her kind heart and dance-on-the-table-with-your-boots-on personality more than made up for it.
A couple of girls from school were laughing at Billi Jo and her purposely ridiculous dance moves when I squeezed in and joined them in the dance-off. Kat stood off to the side—just far enough away so she didn’t have to actually claim us—and smoked a cigarette as she swayed coolly to the music.
By the time the band stopped for a break, Kat had attracted a small swarm of guys to her like flies to sticky paper. I was in the process of dragging Billi Jo away from the guitar player when someone came up beside me and half-whispered in my ear, “Hey.” The smooth voice sent a tingling sensation down my arm, and my face heated when I realized it wasn’t Logan. I should not be tingling anywhere for anyone else—especially my best friend. Besides, I was still annoyed at Justice for his ridiculous ‘selling my soul’ accusation. “I didn’t mean to piss you off earlier. I just don’t get a cozy feelin’ about your boyfriend, that’s all.”
I let go of Billi Jo once we were a safe distance away from all band members and turned to Justice. “I wish.” I raked my fingers through my hair and chose my words carefully, “that you and Kat would give Logan a break. He’s a good guy—so what if he’s a little different from us?”
Justice cocked an eyebrow as if to say, ‘a little?’
Fortunately for Justice, a group of our school friends stopped to talk and prevented me from saying something I might regret. With a fake smile and a nagging uneasiness, I fought to keep Justice’s words out of my mind. Dammit, I shouldn’t have to defend my boyfriend to Justice.
“Hey, baby, I’ve been lookin’ for you,” Logan slurred as he came up behind me. He swung his arm around my neck, sloshing his drink down the front of my shirt, and I questioned my previous mental statement. “Where ya been?” He reeked of whiskey, which explained his condition.
Tugging at my wet shirt, I stepped away from Logan’s helping hands. I’d had enough alcohol spilled on me for one night. “I got it,” I said through clenched teeth, but he pawed at the cold liquid anyway. “Logan, stop.” I pushed his hands away.
“Yeah, he’s a real gentleman,” Justice said to me, then to Logan, “How about a little respect?”
Logan’s head snapped from me to Justice, stunned anyone would challenge him. He stood taller, straightening his broad shoulders, and widened his stance. “Why don’t you mind your own business, redneck?”
A sudden pulsing throbbed in my ears. Logan would never allow anyone to call him out in front of people without a fight, and Justice would never put up with any guy disrespecting a girl. The two of them towered above me. I was caught between two boulders coming from opposite directions, with no easy escape routes.
“You’re the one with the loud mouth and bad manners,” Justice retorted.
Logan tossed his drink to the ground and took a step toward Justice. I braced my palm against Logan’s chest and held my arms out between them. My mouth opened in protest but my throat closed, not allowing me to speak. Logan stopped his advance but lobbed his arms out to his sides. “What is it with you, Cowboy? Every time I turn around, you’re hitting on my girl. You need to back off or somebody’s gonna get hurt.”
Justice smirked like Logan had told him a lame joke. “From the condition you’re in, looks like it’d be you.”
Sweat beaded at my hairline. Around me, I sensed Logan’s posse beginning to close in. Justice didn’t understand what he was up against. I knew he was strong enough to hold his own because I’d seen him handle eight-hundred-pound colts, but Logan and his friends had a reputation for winning at all costs.
Logan glowered like a hungry dog waiting to sink his teeth into a juicy steak. “I wouldn’t bet on it.”
“We got your back, Westfield,” a familiar voice called from the crowd. I glanced in front of me to find Red waving over a couple more of their buddies. In the split second he raised his arms to motion for them, a flash of white caught my attention like a neon sign. Bile rose in my throat, and my legs threatened to buckle. Tucked in the front of Red’s jeans was a pearl-handled gun—the same gun Logan had taken away from him the night I walked up on them at the party. Probably the same gun Red grazed the snitch’s arm with.
Red was a loose cannon, and if I didn’t do something fast, God knows what might happen to Justice. There was only one way to get Logan’s attention. “Come on, Logan, you know you’re the only guy for me.” Each word was a knife stabbing into me. “Let’s leave.” When he didn’t budge, I swallowed hard and tangled my arms around his neck, urging his face to mine. Then I kissed him—in front of everyone—in front of Justice.
At first Logan didn’t respond, but when I parted my lips he gave me his full attention. Taking my face in his hands, he thrust his tongue in my mouth and kissed me for what seemed like the longest few seconds of my life. Then to taunt Justice further, he held me tighter against his body, and above my head said to Justice, “Looks like it’s your lucky day; my girl wants to leave.”
With the side of my face pressed against Logan’s chest, I glanced to Justice, my eyes begging him to let it go.
Justice’s jaw muscles clenched. “That what you want, River? You wanna leave with this drunk?”
“We have a DD,” I lied, knowing his question wasn’t really a question. There’s no way he’d let me get in a car with a drunk driver—not without a fight.
His nostrils flared. “You sure?”
My stomach turned inside out as I tiptoed to kiss Logan in hopes of further convincing Justice.
Pain flooded Justice’s eyes: a sickening combination of anger, disappointment, and disgust. I’d known Justice my whole life, and not once had he ever looked at me that way. Shaking his head, he huff-laughed, then turned to walk away.
My heart shattered like someone shoved a lit stick of dynamite inside my chest. I’d just betrayed my best friend in the whole world. He’d never know I did it to protect him.
“Better luck next time, Cowboy.” Logan closed his hand around mine, and a surge of nausea swirled in my stomach as I allowed him to lead me away.
Red clapped Logan on the back and handed him a beer as we walked by him. “Party’s just gettin’ started, huh?”
“Yep.” Logan cracked open the can, threw his head back, and took a long drink.
Kat and Billi Jo caught up with me, but I waved them away and walked on. Kat followed me to the edge of the parking lot anyway. “You can’t leave with him, he’s drunk.”
Logan turned back to face her, took a gulp of his beer, crushed the can, and tossed it toward her. “I’m fine, Captain.” He saluted her, did a one-eighty, and then unsteadily swaggered ahead to his car.
Bracing my hands against Kat’s shoulders, I stepped into the line of fire before she had a chance to retaliate with a beer can to the back of his head and an arsenal of cuss words. Keeping my voice to a loud whisper, I said, “Kat, you know what’s gonna happen if I don’t get him out of here right now.”
“So what!” She flung her arms out. “Justice can handle him.”
“You know as well as I do Logan and his friends don’t always fight fair.” It was true they had a reputation for outnumbering their rivals, also true they’d made verbal threats with guns. What Kat didn’t know was that the rumor that swept through the county a few months ago was true.
Kat’s green cat eyes narrowed. “River, don’t be stupid. Justice has plenty of friends here; they’ll back him.”
“Kat…they all have guns. They keep them in their vehicles and—”
“This is rural fucking Texas. Everybody keeps guns and rifles and shit in their vehicles.”
“I’m not talking about hunting rifles.” I glanced ahead to Logan’s car where he was bent over, reaching inside. Red fidgeted beside him and stared in my direction like he was the lookout guy. Dammit, neither of them needed another drop of whiskey. I didn’t have time for this. There was no way around it—I had to tell Kat the truth so I could get them out of here.
“Okay, here it is: you know the rumor that was floating around about Red shooting that guy from Ridgewood High? It was true. Red was afraid they were going to kill Logan, so he tried to scare him, only he got too close. The guy changed his story later, but it was because Red got ahold of him before he talked to the cops. He caught the guy alone at that party down by Miller Lake and pulled a gun on him. Thankfully, Logan caught Red and took his gun away from him.”
Kat cocked her hip as she folded her arms across her chest. “Oh, so Logan’s a hero now?”
“That’s not the point.” I jammed my fingers through my hair. “I’m saying that Red is unpredictable and they’re both shit-faced on whiskey. I need to get them away from Justice. Now.”
“You’ve been drinking. You’re not driving anywhere.”
“I’m not.” I pointed to a girl standing with a group of people near Logan’s car. “Blondie’s the DD.” It wasn’t a complete lie. I’d overheard her earlier saying she was driving one of Logan’s friends, I just didn’t know which one or if they had extra seating. “I’ll catch a ride home as soon as I’m sure Logan and Red will stay put at the after party.”
“This is fucked up, River,” Kat growled. “You’re in way over your head, and you better wake up!”
I didn’t want to leave with Logan any more than she wanted me to, but I couldn’t let her see me wavering. She’d try to talk me out of it, and there was no way I’d take a chance on Justice getting hurt because of me. “You know I have to go.” I took a step back, but before I turned, Kat spun on her heel and walked off, her long, shiny black hair whipping behind her. Kat hated to be left behind, so she always made sure she was the leaver.
When I got to the car, Logan was waiting at the passenger side door. Behind me, a car engine revved and a male voice yelled, “Hey Westfield, party at your place?”
“Yeah, I’ll be there in a little bit.” Logan twirled his key ring on his finger. “I have to make a stop first.”
When I raised my eyebrows, Logan smiled. “Your present.”
An hour ago, Logan’s words would’ve given me butterflies; now they gave me cold chills.
I reached for his car keys. “Come on Logan, you’ve had too much to drink. Let’s find that blonde girl who—”
He pulled his hand away and opened the door for me. “No way I’m leaving my car here.”
“Then we’ll find someone—”
“Nobody drives my car.” He pressed his lips to mine, and it tasted like I’d done a shot of whiskey. “Mmm, not even you.”
“Logan, you can’t drive like this.”
“Okay.” He chuckled as he glanced toward the pavilion where the party was still in full swing. Then he cupped my face, his thumbs brushing my cheeks as his glassy eyes penetrated mine. “We can stay here until my buzz wears off if that’s what you want. I’m sure your friend would like that.”
“Come on, man.” Red smacked the passenger side door of a white four-wheel drive he was crammed into. “What’s the hold up?”
My stomach twisted in knots and my legs grew heavy as I clutched the door frame for support. I had no other choice—no good one. If we stayed, that meant Red stayed. It meant they all stayed.
“Your call, Beautiful.”
Fire erupted in my chest and spread to every limb of my body. I was angry that there were no good options, even angrier that I’d been forced to choose between Logan and Justice in the first place. To everyone at the party and to Justice, it looked like I chose Logan, but in my heart and soul, Justice was my choice. I had to leave with Logan in order to protect Justice.
“Let’s go.”
Smiling, Logan leaned down to whisper in my ear, “Trust me, Baby, we’ll take it slow.”
White hot tears pricked my eyes as I watched myself, or someone that resembled me, get into the car. I told myself everything would be okay if we just took it slow.
My gut told me something else.