Falling for Hadley: A Novel (Chasing the Harlyton Sisters Book 2) Page 21

  His gaze flicks to mine. “You’re very understanding about this.”

  I shrug. “I already told you that my dad does stuff like this all the time. And some of my sisters have, on occasion.”

  “I know, but …” He stares at me, and I mean, really stares at me, in a way that makes me twitchy, as if he can actually see through the wall I constantly have around me. “I’m just not used to it—being around someone who’s understanding. I mean, my siblings can be sometimes, but none of my friends have ever been this easy to talk to.”

  I squirm, even more uneasy now. “It’s just because I’ve been through similar stuff, so I get it.”

  “I know.” He continues to stare at me in that seeing, knowing, can’t-really-breathe-properly way.

  Finally, I decide I need a subject change before I end up diving out of the car just to avoid that look.

  I rest my elbow on the back of the seat. “So, what do you guys do for work anyway? Because I find it hard as hell to get a job that pays decently and has flexible hours.”

  He studies me for a heartbeat longer before he tears his gaze away from me.

  I secretly breathe in relief.

  “Jax does work around the neighborhood, like mows lawns and stuff—I feel like he’s too young to work more than that,” he tells me. “Alex works at an auto shop. But the only reason he even has the job and hasn’t gotten fired yet is because the owner of the shop is—was a friend of my mom’s.” He scratches his neck, visibly uncomfortable. “I work at the shop, too. Not on the cars, but in the office. Rhyland sometimes works there, but he makes most of his money racing.”

  “Wait. What?” That piques my interest. “How the hell does he make money racing?”

  “People put up bets, and he makes a percentage.” He glances at me with his brows knit. “Didn’t they do that back in your hometown? I know you raced. Didn’t you get money from doing it?”

  I shake my head. “Not really, but I don’t really have a hometown. Maybe if we stayed put in the same place for longer than six months, I would’ve discovered the potential cash flow in something I love.”

  He gapes at me. “You move every six months?”

  “Give or take a month.”

  “Why?”

  I hesitate, questioning how much I should divulge. After all, my dad works for his dad, and telling Blaise the truth—that my dad generally tends to screw people over within that timeframe—doesn’t seem like a great idea.

  I settle on, “We just like a change of scenery, I guess.”

  Skepticism weighs in his eyes, but he drops the subject as we arrive at the outskirts of town and he turns into a gas station.

  I check the time and frown. I’m two hours late for school already. Crap.

  “Sorry, but the tank’s already red lining,” he apologizes as he notes me frowning at the clock. “I promise I’ll hurry. And I can drop you off at school before I take Alex back to the house.”

  “It’s fine. You can go home, and I can just drive myself to school … I don’t want to make you drive to the school with him in the back seat like that”—I nod at Alex—“and risk getting pulled over or something.”

  “Are you sure?” he asks as he parks next to a pump.

  “Yep, it’s cool. Either way, I won’t make it there until after lunch anyway.”

  He silences the engine then gives me a strange look. “Thanks, Hadley. What you did this morning … and agreeing not to say anything …” He clears his throat. “But yeah, thanks. I haven’t felt this grateful in a very long time.”

  “No worries. It’s not that big of a deal.”

  “Yeah, it really is.” He really stares at me again. “Especially with how crappy I treated you when we first met and almost every time after that. I wish I hadn’t, but … yeah, I’m just sorry.”

  “No worries.” As we start to share yet another moment, I bail out of the car. “I’m going to go get some coffee. You want anything?”

  “I’m good, but thanks.” His gaze remains glued on me, dissecting me.

  “Okay.” I shut the door and hightail it into the gas station, my heart racing in my chest. I don’t know what the fucker’s problem is today, but it needs to chill out. So what if Blaise isn’t nearly as bad as I originally thought? My heart doesn’t need to get all fluttery over it. It should be tougher than that.

  I should be tougher than that.

  “Remember the rules,” I mutter to myself as I enter the gas station. “We don’t need this getting out …” I trail off as I spot my dad’s truck through the window, parked in the side parking lot. A much nicer truck is parked beside it that has heavily tinted windows.

  Curious as to what my dad is doing here in the middle of the day, I start to head back outside to ask, when the door to the nicer truck opens and my dad hops out. I pause, watching as he peers around nervously. Then he collects a large duffel bag from the truck, hurriedly climbs into his own truck, and then peels out of the parking lot, kicking up a cloud of dust.

  I grind my teeth as I watch him speed off down the highway. “Another duffel bag, Dad? Really?”

  I have a very suspicious and very unnerving feeling that the contents of that bag might be very similar to the bag buried in our backyard.

  Just what the hell has my dad gotten mixed up in? And does this have anything to do with his new job?

  My gaze floats over to where Blaise is standing next to his SUV. He’s currently swiping his card in the machine, but his eyes are trained on the road, right in the direction my dad drove off in.

  Chapter 19

  I remain fairly stuck in my own head for most of the remaining drive home, my mind crammed with questions. Questions about my dad. About what he was doing at the gas station with yet another duffel bag. Questions about Blaise. Like, how much he knows about my dad and about Blaise himself. The biggest question: what led him to seek guardianship of his brothers? What line was crossed that he finally decided they were better off without him?

  How am I supposed to ask him any of this? I barely know him. He barely knows me. Why would he share his personal story with me? He may very well not, but at this point, I’m becoming desperate enough to ask.

  I take a sip of my coffee then flick a quick glance to make sure Alex is still passed out before turning in the seat toward Blaise. He’s hardly said more than a handful of words since we left the gas station, either stuck in his own head, too, or tired of chatting with me.

  “I have to ask you a question.”

  Breaking the silence makes him jolt.

  His gaze skates to me, his expression guarded. “Okay …?”

  I finish off my coffee then set the empty cup in the cupholder. “You saw him at the gas station, didn’t you?”

  He reluctantly nods. “I saw him drive away.”

  “Do you know why he was there?”

  “No.”

  I can’t read him; can’t tell if he’s lying. “Was he there for his job?”

  He shakes his head, sweeping strands of his blond hair out of his eyes. “Probably not.”

  “How do you know for sure? I mean, what does he even do for your dad?”

  “All sorts of things. And I know for sure he wasn’t working earlier because he only works nights.”

  “Nights? But sometimes I see him around the house at night.”

  “Late at night,” he clarifies. “I think it’s the eleven o’clock to five o’clock shift.”

  None of this makes sense, and with how much Blaise is squirming in his seat, I wonder if he knows more than he’s letting on. But why? Because my dad told him not to tell me? Again, why?

  Why? Why? Why?

  “But he acts as if he’s going to work during the day,” I point out, observing his reaction closely. “He even packs a lunch.”

  Blaise thrums his fingers against the wheel, contemplating something. “Maybe he has two jobs?”

  I snort a laugh. “Yeah, and unicorns are real.”

  He gives me a curious glance.
“I’m guessing he’s not the sort of guy who would have two jobs?”

  “Hell no. He’s not the type to even have one job. Honestly, until you said he was working for your dad, I thought he was just going to the bar with his”—I make air quotes—“ ‘lunchbox.’ ”

  He nods understandingly. “I had one of those parents, too. Or, well, I should say stepparent.” He downshifts as we near the turn off to our neighborhood. “Rhyland and Alex’s mom … she’s a real piece of work. And that’s putting it mildly.”

  I seize the opportunity to ask, “Was she the reason you got guardianship of your brothers?”

  “Partly.” A tightness clenches his tone. “My father was the other reason.” He flips on his blinker as he slows down to make a turn. “He was really pissed off at me at first. Or, well, pissed off is an understatement. But yeah, anyway, he was really pissed off until I made a valid point that, with the way things were going, we were probably going to get taken away from him anyway. Well, Alex, Jaxon, and Rhyland were. I was eighteen by then.”

  I realize something doesn’t add up. “Wait. How long ago was this? I thought Rhyland said six months ago.”

  “I started the process about nine months ago. It took three months to get it done and probably would’ve taken longer if my dad hadn’t decided to be cooperative.” He presses his lips together, pausing. “I’m guessing by that confused look on your face that you’re doing the math and realizing I’m almost nineteen yet still a senior in high school. That has nothing to do with me getting guardianship … Back in sixth grade, I had to miss a year of school.”

  I almost ask what for, but he looks on the verge of being sick, his skin pale, his breathing increasing.

  “So, your dad just gave you guardianship then?” I ask instead.

  “After a bit of a fight, he did.”

  “Do you guys see him at all?”

  “Occasionally, but we try to avoid it at all costs. Well, except for Alex … but he doesn’t always think clearly.” His eyes travel to the rearview mirror. “I wish he would. The last thing I want is for him to get more mixed up in my dad’s world … It’ll destroy him.”

  I recall how I overheard Blaise and Alex arguing last night, how Alex declared he was torturing my sisters and me because someone fucked him over.

  “Why did Alex go after my sisters and me?” I ask cautiously. “Was it just because of what I said to you the first time we met? Or is there more to it than that?”

  “Alex barely had any involvement in that,” he lies flatly. “It was mostly me.”

  “If you say so.”

  “I do say so.”

  “Okay.”

  He nearly growls. “You’re so frustrating sometimes. Seriously, are you always like this?”

  “Yeah, pretty much,” I admit truthfully. “But, FYI, you’re equally as annoying. And I know for a fact that you had nothing to do with my tires getting slashed or the flyers. But it’s cool. I get you’re trying to protect your brother, so I’ll let it drop.”

  He assesses me with his lips pressed together as he steers up his driveway. “I can’t figure you out at all. I mean, you can be rude and intense and maybe even slightly crazy, yet you’ve been so understanding with stuff, and you’re just …” He shakes his head. “I don’t get you.”

  I stay put despite how badly I want to dive out of the car. But he’s got that stupid look on his face again, the one where I’m pretty sure he can see through my layer that I keep hidden.

  “Most people can’t, so you should probably just stop trying to do it.”

  He shakes his head, not saying a word as he pushes the shifter into park, neither agreeing nor denying with my request, leaving me to wonder.

  I really need to stop wondering about him.

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to drive you to school?” he asks, glancing at his brother. “I can hurry and put him inside then drive you, if you need me to?”

  “Nah, I can drive myself. I’m not a very good passenger anyway. I like to be behind the wheel too much.” I try for a smile to lighten the mood, but this ride has been too intense and I’m not really feeling it.

  Blaise seems on the same page, offering me only a stiff smile.

  “All right,” he says, making no move to get out.

  “Okay.”

  I tell myself to get out of the car, but instead, I just end up staring at him, wondering, wondering, wondering.

  Wondering way too much about him.

  As awkwardness stretches between us, I find myself missing arguing with him again. At least then I didn’t feel so out of my element.

  Throwing him a quick grin, I jump out and hurry toward the fence, feeling weirded out. I try to blame it on lack of sleep, but the truth is Blaise got me all baffled and confused. My first initial assessment of him feels way off now. Still, I can’t get past the first time I met him.

  How can that cocky jerk be the guy who just opened up to me? Or who takes care of his drugged-out brother?

  As I make my way up my driveway and toward my car, I watch out of the corner of my eye as Blaise opens the back door of the SUV, gently picks up his brother, and carries him toward the house.

  Who is Blaise Porterson? And, can I trust him?

  Part of me says yes, but the other part—the part that believes he knows more about my dad’s job than he’s letting on—cautions me to be careful.

  Chapter 20

  I arrive at school right around the time lunch ends, so I have no time to talk to my sisters. After I check in with the office, giving them a forged note excusing my absence, I hurry to class to avoid being late again. Since I missed fifth period yesterday, I ask the teacher what I missed. Then I take a seat in the farthest row back, hoping to keep my head down and avoid the gawking, because apparently, people haven’t gotten over the whole flyer thing yet.

  “Hey.” Rhyland drops his books on the desk in front of mine then plops down in the seat. “You made it?”

  “Yeah, just barely.” I dig a pen out of my bag then straighten in the seat, too aware that the gawking around me has increased since Rhyland started talking to me. “Hey, thanks for giving my sisters a ride this morning. That was really … nice of you.”

  “Nice?” He smiles amusedly. “Wow, did I just get a compliment from you?”

  I shrug. “I give compliments occasionally.”

  “Yeah, but you seem like a hard girl to win over, so it kind of feels like, I don’t know, an honor or something.”

  “It is.” I can’t help smiling when he grins at me. “But being a hard girl to win over isn’t a bad thing.”

  “I know. But you need to let people win you over sometimes; or else, how are people supposed to get to know you?”

  My smile withers. “Sometimes it’s easier not to.”

  He pauses for a beat. “You sound a lot like my brother.”

  My lips dip downward. “Which one?”

  “Blaise.” He searches my eyes. “Was that the answer you were hoping for or not? I can’t tell.”

  Shrugging, I relax back in my seat. “There could be worse answers, I guess.”

  He chuckles softly, but his laughter hastily fades as he sneaks a glance around the room. Then he lowers his voice. “How did it go this morning with Blaise? He hasn’t texted me yet. Did he make it to school?”

  Remembering how Blaise mentioned his siblings not knowing how bad Alex has gotten, I decide to be as vague as possible. “This morning went okay. We picked up Alex, got gas and stuff, then he dropped me off at my car. He didn’t come to school, though. Said he has some stuff to do or something.”

  “Oh.” His lips thin as he presses them together. “Alex was okay, though?”

  “He seemed okay,” I lie again, wishing I asked Blaise what I was supposed to tell everyone this morning. It’s the first rule of telling a believable lie: make sure your stories line up. “I actually didn’t talk to him too much. Alex, I mean. In case you haven’t heard, he’s not a huge fan of me.” The last part c
omes off teasing.

  Sometimes I’m such a fantastic liar that I freak myself out. I didn’t used to be this way. Before my mom died, I cried every time I tried to lie. My parents used to laugh at me, saying I was going to turn into the most honest person in the world with how terrible of a liar I was. And look at me now. I can lie without missing a beat and rarely does anyone get to know the real me.

  Rhyland sighs. “He does seem to have some sort of vendetta against you, doesn’t he? That’s just Alex. All of us Portersons have our one quirk that rubs people the wrong way.”

  “Just one?” I question.

  He chuckles, his eyes crinkling around the corners. “Okay, maybe we have more, but not all of them are completely bad.” He rests his arms on top of my desk. “We have good traits, too.”

  I toss a glance at the people openly staring at us. “And are people staring at us because of your good traits or your bad ones?”

  He peers around the room, his mouth curving downward as his eyes land back on me. “It’s probably because of both.” He fiddles with a leather band on his wrist. “Some people fear us because of our last name. Some people want us because of who we are. Honestly, either way, we have a hard time trusting people. It’s why Jaxon barely talks to anyone, why we don’t have any close friends, why we rarely date.”

  A soft laugh escapes me. “I have a hard time believing the last one.”

  When his gaze lifts to mine, curiosity sparkles in his eyes. “Why not?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe because everything about all of you—well, except for maybe Jaxon—screams player.”

  He presses his hand to his chest, mocking offense. “I am so not a player. I barely flirt with anyone.”

  “Liar. You flirted with me the first time we met.” Despite my seriousness, I’m on the verge of laughing.

  “I mildly flirted with you,” he corrects, grinning. “And I backed off, didn’t I?”

  “Sort of. But I’m guessing only because Blaise made you.”