Falling for Hadley: A Novel (Chasing the Harlyton Sisters Book 2) Page 22

  “There might be a little truth to that statement. How did you know?”

  “It’s pretty obvious.”

  He bobs his head up and down. “Yeah, my brother’s never been that subtle, I guess.”

  “Yeah, I could tell that from the first time I met him and he tried to hit on me. He has the worst moves ever. How he’s ever gotten a date is beyond me.”

  Rhyland barks out a laugh, causing even more people to stare at us. “Jesus, you’re amusing,” he says through his laughter.

  As the bell rings and the teacher starts to call roll, I slant forward and whisper, “Why’s that so funny?”

  Tears of laughter glimmer in his eyes. “I was just picturing Blaise actually going out on a date and trying to ask a girl out.”

  Confusion tap dances inside my mind. “You say that like he’s never dated.”

  “That’s because he hasn’t,” he says in all seriousness. “Not really anyway.”

  I think back to how he acted like such a player—my initial assumption of him. “Does he know that? Because he acts the opposite.”

  He scans me over with intrigue. “Just what exactly has been going on between my brother and you?”

  I chew on the end of my pen. “You should know. You’ve been there for most of it.”

  “Not the first time you met.”

  “That was probably the worst.”

  “Why?” He’s even more intrigued.

  “Um, because he called me baby and sweetheart, and then acted like an asshole when I told him a very colorful way to go fuck himself. It was like no one had ever told him off before.”

  “That’s because people rarely do. It’s the curse of our last name,” he explains while struggling not to laugh. “I don’t know what’s funnier—you telling Blaise off, or Blaise trying to flirt with you? I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him flirt with anyone.”

  “Are you being serious right now? Because what you’re saying and what I’ve seen doesn’t match. So far, Blaise seems like an asshole.” Well, minus some parts from today.

  “I think you—”

  “Rhyland, please turn around in your seat,” the teacher interrupts before Rhyland can answer.

  Shrugging, Rhyland faces forward, but not before whispering, “You should cut Blaise some slack, Hadley. He’s had a rough life and rarely lets people in. But the people he does let in are really lucky. Trust me.”

  He leaves it at that, only adding to my developing confusion of who Blaise really is. It shouldn’t matter to me. If I was sticking to my rules, it wouldn’t. But apparently, within the course of two weeks of living in Honeyton, I’ve managed to veer off course and lose focus on what’s important. And that can’t happen. Ever. I need to stay focused, not just for my sake, but for my sisters’. That means no more thinking or worrying about Blaise.

  Chapter 21

  My sisters are surprisingly upbeat as we drive home from school. I assumed, since people hadn’t let up with the whole flyer incident, that they’d be mopey and in desperate need of some ice cream. Instead, they’re all giggles and jokes and chatting about hot guys.

  “Speaking of who’s hot …” Payton slides forward in the back seat and rests her arms on the console. “How was your morning with our sexy next-door neighbor?”

  So much for not thinking about Blaise. “I’m assuming you mean Blaise?”

  “Well, sexy could describe any of them,” she says, “but yeah, I’m talking about Blaise. Unless you spent the morning with more than one Porterson?”

  “Actually, Alex was with us,” I tell her, only because I already told Londyn.

  Payton crinkles her nose. “God, I feel so bad for you. He’s so annoying. I’ve heard a lot of other people say terrible stuff about him.”

  “He’s got quite the rep for being a douchebag,” Bailey agrees. “The rest of Portersons don’t seem so bad. Well, Rhyland and Jaxon don’t. I know you hate Blaise, even if you two did kiss the shit out of each other.”

  Payton snickers. “Hell yeah, they did.”

  “No, we didn’t,” I protest, knowing I’m so full of it. That kiss yesterday was hot, just like that whole licking thing that happened between us, which FYI, I am never telling my sisters about. They’d never let it go.

  “Sure, you didn’t,” Bailey singsongs, perfectly in pitch.

  “It’s okay if you did,” Londyn reassures me from the passenger seat. She has a soccer ball on her lap and is twisting her hair up into a messy bun. “I know I said a lot of crap about them the other day, but I think I’ve decided not all the Portersons are bad. Alex is not included in that assessment. And Blaise … I’m still undecided about him. He seemed like such a jerk when we first met him, and then that stupid bet … But I don’t know if I’m right or not.” She looks at me for my opinion.

  “He might not be as bad as he seemed at first. And the bet, that was partially my doing,” I say as I speed up to pass a car. “Plus, I think he was the one who bought me the new tires.”

  Londyn’s jaw basically ninja slaps her lap. “Seriously?”

  I nod, shifting gears. “Yeah, I overheard him talking to Alex about it. I guess Alex was the one who slashed my tires and Blaise bought the replacements.” I purposefully don’t mention when I overheard this conversation, hoping to avoid talking about the bag buried in the backyard, since that will only lead to me lying more.

  “Then, why did Blaise act like he was the one who slashed them?” she wonders, dropping her soccer ball onto the floor.

  “I think because Alex gets into so much trouble,” I tell her. “He’s trying to protect him or something.”

  She aims a purposeful glance at my neck where my necklace once was. “That sounds familiar.”

  My hand floats to the base of my neck. “I guess so … But anyway …” I lower my hand and change the subject, not wanting to talk about Mom’s necklace. Or for Bailey and Payton to find out that I pawned it. “The tire thing was pretty cool of Blaise. And he didn’t really seem too bad this morning. I mean, don’t get me wrong, he still got under my skin, but he wasn’t as terrible as I thought he was going to be. I’m still trying to figure him out—if he’s really a nice guy and my first impression of him was wrong, or if he’s just putting on an act now. According to Rhyland, Blaise isn’t cocky at all. And he says he doesn’t usually hit on girls or date, so I don’t get why Blaise was trying all that sweetheart, baby flirty crap the first time we met …” I trail off as I become highly aware they are all staring at me in amusement. “Why are you guys looking at me like that? What’s so damn funny about what I said?”

  Londyn slowly shakes her head as she stares off into empty space. “It’s nothing.” She then trades a smile with Bailey and Payton.

  “It’s something,” I scoff. “Or else you guys wouldn’t be grinning at each other like a couple of silly Muppet babies.”

  Bailey giggles. “We’re Muppet babies.”

  I sigh. “Come on; just tell me.”

  “It really is nothing.” Londyn pulls out a pack of gum from her bag, pops a piece in her mouth, and then props her feet on the dash as she sits back. “We’ve just never heard you talk about a guy so much. You’re usually so anti-guys.”

  “Because guys are trouble.” Irritation burns inside me at her speculation. I’m mostly irritated with myself, because she’s right. “And I’m only talking about Blaise because you guys were asking me questions about him.”

  “Okay.” Doubt laces her tone, which only frustrates me more.

  “It’s the truth.” I turn into our empty driveway. So, Dad’s not home yet. “You guys brought Blaise up first when you asked me how my morning went with him.”

  “True.” Londyn nods in agreement then glances over at the Portersons’ driveway where their SUV and Rhyland’s car is parked.

  Rhyland is getting out. He throws us a wave while Jaxon hops out and scrambles up to the house without a glance in our direction.

  “He was so offish on the drive to school this morn
ing,” Bailey remarks as she slings her backpack over her shoulder.

  “I think he’s just shy.” Payton’s eyes remain on Jaxon until he disappears into the house.

  I slip the keys out of the ignition and open the door. “How did your drive with them go this morning anyway? Londyn said not too bad.”

  Bailey stuffs her phone into her pocket. “It was okay.”

  “Much better than I thought it was going to be,” Payton agrees as Londyn gets out and flips up the seat to let her out. “When Londyn first accepted Blaise’s offer to ride with them, I nearly shit a brick.”

  “Me, too,” Bailey says as I hop out and slide the seat forward. “I’m sure if Alex was with us, things would’ve been awful. It just sucks that you had to spend the morning with him.” She offers me an apologetic look as she ducks out of the car.

  “Actually, he was pretty quiet for the most part.” I can feel all their gazes on me as I make my way up the driveway, probably wanting more of an explanation. But I promised Blaise. And while I can be a straight-up liar about a lot of things, I respect—and understand—his need to protect his brother way too much. So, I shrug when I reach the front door and see they still haven’t stopped staring at me. “What? He was.”

  The three of them trade yet another glance, and then Londyn’s gaze zeroes in on me. “What’re you not telling us?”

  I avoid their gazes as I unlock the door. “I’m not keeping anything from you. Why would you ask that?”

  Her gaze is relentless. She knows me too well. “Because I know you, and I can tell you are.”

  “I’m really not.” I’m so torn. Torn over telling her the truth and keeping my promise to Blaise. “I don’t know why it seems that way.”

  She stares at me for a bit longer before looking away with hurt in her eyes. “All right.” Then she steps inside the house and heads straight up to our bedroom.

  Releasing a sigh, I move to chase after her so I can tell her … well, I’m not certain yet, but then our dad pulls into the driveway and my worries transfer elsewhere.

  I step back outside onto the porch. “Hey, Bay, Payton, can you guys go up to your room for a bit? I need to have a chat with Dad.”

  “About the alcohol he buried in the backyard?” Bailey glances at our dad’s truck.

  “Yeah.” Another lie. At this point, I’ve told so many I’m starting to get tangled up in them. “Well, that and a couple other things.”

  “Good.” With a firm nod, she goes inside.

  Payton follows, patting me on the shoulder. “Don’t go easy on him, Had,” she encourages. “He doesn’t deserve it.”

  “Oh, I won’t,” I swear. When she shoots me an unconvinced frown, I stress, “I know I’ve gone easy on him in the past, but I’m at my final straw. It’s time he understands that we’re not going to put up with any more of his shit.”

  Her lack of confidence in me decreases a notch. “Good. And if you need any help, shout for us, okay? Don’t let him bully you into backing off.”

  “All right.” But I’m not about to bring them into this. As the oldest, my job is to protect them. To keep them away from our dad. To make sure they’re safe. To make sure they’re happy, even if it means giving them some of my happiness.

  My attention briefly strays to the Porterson house. Does Blaise ever feel this way? Like he’s okay with being less happy as long as his siblings are content?

  I instantly shake my head. Why, oh, why did I start thinking about him again?

  Get him out of your damn head, woman!

  Shifting my focus off Blaise’s house, I trot down the steps and approach my dad’s truck. He’s sitting in the driver’s seat, distracted by his phone. The duffel bag I saw him collect earlier is on the passenger seat.

  When he remains oblivious to me standing there, I tap my knuckles against the window. He jumps so badly he drops his phone.

  “Shit.” He hastily collects his phone from the floor and straightens in his seat, blinking at me. “Hadley, where’d you come from?”

  “The house.” I hitch my thumb over my shoulder. “Didn’t you see me walking down the driveway?”

  He shakes his head then rolls the window down all the way. “But, what’re you doing at home?” His puzzled expression alters into a scowl. “Wait. You aren’t cutting out on class, are you?”

  “Like you’d care if I was. You never have before,” I say bitterly. “And no, I’m not cutting.” I don’t offer a further explanation as I open the truck door. “You and I need to talk.”

  He has the audacity to appear perplexed. “About what?”

  “About the bag you buried in the backyard.” I glance at the bag on the seat. “And that one right there, too, if it has the same contents as the one in the backyard.”

  His eyes fleetingly widen, but then he narrows them into slits. “How many times have I told you to stay out of my goddamn business?”

  I lean in closer, lowering my tone. “When your goddamn business could get you arrested and Child Protective Services called, then it becomes my goddamn business.”

  “Shut your fucking mouth,” he hisses, glancing around in a panic. “And stay out of my fucking business.”

  I shake my head. “No, I’m not going to this time. I’ve had enough. I had enough a long time ago, actually—ever since Mom died—but I let you get away with a lot of shit because I felt sorry for you. That was my mistake. I’m not going to do it anymore.”

  “What exactly are you trying to say?” His tone is like ice.

  “That if you don’t cut this shit out”—I point at the backyard and nod at the bag—“then I’m going to try to gain guardianship of my sisters. I’m eighteen now, and I know, under the right circumstances, I can get it.”

  “You can’t do that,” he warns lowly, turning in his seat. “Again, you’re forgetting who the parent is. Those are my daughters in that house. A house I pay for us to live in.” He grinds his teeth. “And you’re my daughter, too, even though I wish you weren’t right now.”

  My heart squeezes in my chest, but I shove my walls up.

  Don’t let him get to you. Don’t feel a thing.

  “I …” That’s when I smell the whiskey on his breath. I shake my head. “Great, you’re drunk, and you’ve been driving around town. Awesome parenting example, Dad.”

  “I just had one drink,” he snaps, the vein in his neck bulging. “And what I do as a parent is none of your business.”

  “It is, too, my damn business!” My voice is rising as my temper gets the best of me. “You can’t just do whatever you want and think it’s not going to affect us! Because it does! All the time! You don’t pay the bills, you don’t take care of us, and you haven’t since Mom died. And if she were here, she’d be so disappointed in you—”

  He lunges from the truck and strikes me across the face so hard my ears ring.

  I move back, cupping my cheek, when he comes at me again, this time bringing his hand down on top of my head. My teeth clank together as tears sting my eyes and blood drips from my nose. Shock whips through me.

  Holy shit, he’s going to beat the shit out of me.

  He comes at me again with his fist raised, but stumbles, giving me just enough time to swing around him.

  I start to take off up the driveway when he grabs my hair. I let out a cry, more tears falling from my eyes. I’m not even sure if the tears are from the pain in my body or my heart. I don’t even care anymore.

  Balling my hand into a fist, I swing at him, my knuckles colliding with his shoulder. He grunts, but then yanks on my hair harder.

  “Goddamn, Hadley, why can’t you just let this go!” he screams out. “You don’t even know what you’re messing with!”

  “A monster!” I shout as I grab his hand and try to pry his fingers off my hair. “Let me go!” I scream.

  More screams echo. Not mine.

  I glance toward the house and spot Londyn striding forward. Payton and Bailey are by the side door, Payton holding Bailey back wi
th tears streaming down her eyes.

  “Let her go!” Londyn shouts at our dad.

  Either he doesn’t hear her, or he’s lost his mind, because he only yanks on my hair harder and spins me around toward the truck.

  “No!” he yells, his grip constricting. “You couldn’t just leave me alone. Why can’t you just leave me alone?” His voice catches.

  I think he might be crying, yet he still doesn’t release my hair.

  “Mel, let her go.” The firm voice belongs to a guy, but it takes my wired mind a second to connect a face to it.

  Blaise.

  “Stay out of this,” my dad snaps at him. “This is none of your business.”

  “Do I need to remind you who my father is?” Blaise asks calmly as he hoists himself over the fence and lands in our yard. Then he stalks toward us, taking measured steps. “Now, let go of Hadley, get in the truck, and get the fuck out of here before I call the cops.”

  “Too late.” Londyn moves up beside Blaise, her wide eyes fixed on me and Dad. “I already called them.”

  “Shit,” my dad and I say at the same time.

  My dad quickly releases my hair and dives into his truck, slamming the door. I start to storm after him—no way am I letting him just take off and leave this mess to me—but arms are wrapped around me, holding me back.

  “Just let him go,” Blaise says softly in my ear. “It’s better if he’s gone.”

  “I don’t want him here”—tears fall from my eyes, but my tone is so hollow—“but if he’s not, my sisters are going to get taken away from me. He needs to give me guardianship first.” I’m about to crumble, fall to pieces that I may never be able to pick up.

  I suck in a breath. Then another.

  Don’t fall to pieces, Hadley. Keep it together.

  Then I hear the sirens, and I damn near collapse.

  “I’ll help you,” Blaise whispers, holding me up. “But you have to keep your shit together, okay? They’ll probably take your sisters for a little bit, but I can help you get them out. I promise.”

  I nod, hoping to God I can trust him.

  At this point, I’m not sure if I’ll ever trust anyone again.

  Chapter 22