CHAPTER TWO
age sixteen
The only time my father ever smiled at me was when my crew crossed the finish line first at Crestview Lake, and that was only because that meant we’d beat Lincoln’s crew. Like we just did for the third year in a row, but who was counting.
“Heads up, Donahue,” Lincoln said as he eased his shell up to the launch.
I smirked. “Try not to trip over my dick when you get out.”
He flipped me off, then spit into the water. One of his friends, Ethan Williams, clapped him on the shoulder and said something I couldn’t hear.
Fucking pricks, both of them.
Our fathers hated each other, and somehow that feud had trickled down to us. We still all hung out together because it was easier to watch your enemies if you kept them within eyesight. Our dads acted like they were tighter than brothers while wishing each other dead behind their backs. Lincoln and I didn’t give two shits about appearances. We wore our contempt on our sleeves.
There was only one good thing about the Huntington family. And she was sitting at the edge of the boat launch, like she always did after the race. Her hair was pulled back in a braid. She cheered for her brother during the regatta, but I always caught her watching me. I knew this because I watched her too.
Tatum Huntington always managed to find trouble—or maybe it found her. Either way, she was always right in the fucking middle of it.
The first time I ever saw her was when I was ten and she was six. We were at a wedding, some big event for a high-profile celebrity couple. Come to think of it, the only reason kids were allowed to attend was because the couple was famous for adopting a shit ton of them. Any other time, we’d have both been stuck at home with a nanny. I was looking for a place to piss, and Tatum was in the bridal suite doing what I supposed all little girls did—spinning around in front of the mirror with the bride’s veil over her head—probably imagining herself as the bride. Where the actual bride—or any other adult—was, I had no idea. I didn’t care. All I knew was that there was a little girl cloaked in white, dripping in innocence as she smiled and twirled, and I had the overwhelming urge to make sure she stayed that way. I yanked the veil off her head before she did something stupid like step on it and rip it, or worse, got caught by someone other than me. She rubbed her hands through her long brown hair then poked her lip out in a pout. “You’re mean,” she’d said. I wasn’t, though. Not then. Not yet. I grabbed her wrist and dragged her back to the main area where all the other guests were. She’d called me names the whole time, but I didn’t care. From the moment I laid eyes on that girl, I had this all-consuming need to protect her, this underlying current sweeping me toward her. Even when she was yelling things likestupidheadat my back while I dragged her down the hall.
Two years ago, I’d caught some asshole watching her from the woods here at the lake. I had the urge to protect her then, too. And I did. Even though she would never know it. She wouldn’t be able to look at me with those same innocent eyes if she knew what kind of person I truly was.
It was always there, this basic, primal need to keep her safe.
Even at a young age, I recognized that she wasn’t like the rest. She didn’t belong in this world. People like me—like my father—would devour Tatum Huntington.
I quickly learned the only way to protect her from the monsters was to become one of them.
She looked so innocent right now, staring out onto the water. The sun hadn’t set over the lake yet, and the adults were already up on the embankment with their alcohol and live music under the tent.
I walked over to her, pulling my shoes and socks off as I went. “You shouldn’t be out here by yourself.”You’re vulnerable when you’re alone.I sat down, letting my legs dangle off the launch.
She gripped my knee. “Don’t.” Her eyes were wide with panic.
I was wearing khaki shorts with a blue polo. Her fingers dug into my bare skin.The fuck is that about?
“You don’t know what’s down there.” She glanced at the lake, then slowly pulled her hand away.
I knew exactly what was down there, and it was nothing we needed to worry about.
I played her game, though, and crisscrossed my legs the same way she had. “Okay.”
We sat there, quiet, for the longest time. Music floated down from on top of the hill. The surface of the lake rippled in the breeze.
“Lyric’s mom left,” she said, breaking the silence.
That didn’t have shit to do with me, but something told me Tatum just needed to say it, to talk to someone.
“That’s why she’s not here.” She kept staring forward, not looking me in the eye. “She doesn’t want to be around anyone. Her mom wasn’t great, but…” her breath hitched, “…now Lyric is alone.”
I didn’t say anything. This conversation wasn’t for me. It was for her, another way for me to watch over her.
She swallowed. “I mean, she has her dad, but…” Her words trailed off. “I have both of my parents, and I still feel alone. If it wasn’t for Lyric—” She cut herself off. “What if she stays sad? What if she never wants to come back?”
“You willneverbe alone.” I didn’t know why I promised her that. I just knew the words were out before I could stop them. And that I hated her family even more now after hearing how they made her feel. She was a twelve-year-old girl. She should have felt loved, happy, safe—neveralone.
Her gaze shot to mine. Her eyes welled with tears. “Would you just sit here with me for a minute?”
This was a rare moment, one of those that you tucked away in the back of your mind for later. Tatum was always fighting me, always defying me. Right now, she was letting me in, and it damn near fucking broke me. If I thought I needed to protect her before, that was nothing compared to what I felt now.
“Yeah, Little Troublemaker. I’ll do whatever you need.”