We were going to be eighteen years old. It was time to grow up and be adults. I was relieved we were all parting ways after high school and going to different colleges. Our friendship from toddlers to children to teens had grown murky. I’ve seen the guys do things I wish I could forget. Hell, I’ve done things I wish I could take back. I’ve participated in acts I didn’t want to be part of. It felt easier for us to just separate. The Savages couldn’t last forever. Nothing good ever did.
They were my brothers, and even though I loved them to death, it was getting harder and harder to rein them in. We all wanted different things out of life, that much was obvious. I wanted to use college to make a name for myself. One that didn’t involve my father or the strict hold he had on my life. Vincent wanted to plow his way through every pussy on the planet, in hopes to forget his childhood. Zach wanted to degrade women to make himself feel better. Trent wanted to live off his parents’ money for the rest of his life without lifting a damn finger, and Marcus, well, he wanted the same thing as me—freedom.
I down the remaining contents in my cup and hiss at the bitter taste, as it travels down my throat, warming my chest. I sneak a glance toward Summer and her friends, and I refrain from rolling my eyes when I realize she’s watching me. Her gaze is glued to me, waiting for my reaction as she grinds on Everette Hill, in the hopes she’ll make me jealous.
It doesn’t work.
“What time you out of here?” Vincent asks, dragging my attention away from her.
I pull my cell out of my pocket and glance at the screen. “In a few hours, actually.”
“You never did ask if I could come along, did you?”
Nope.
I shake my head. I thought about it, but honestly, these vacations were just that, a vacation. From everyone. Including my brothers.
“Fucker.” He chuckles, taking a sip of his drink.
I shrug, smirking as the alcohol works its way through my system. I’m glancing around the party when my gaze snags on a girl. Dressed in a black sweater dress and sneakers, with long blond hair tossed over one shoulder, she looks deeply into the fire as if lost in thought. She’s pretty, not in the all-in-your-face way that Summer and the rest of the cheer squad is, but still pretty, nonetheless. It’s a quiet pretty. One you’d need to take the time to thoroughly appreciate. Take the time to stop and stare at. Something about her is so familiar, though, but I can’t quite put my finger on it.
I toss the red plastic cup and am about to head toward her when Vincent’s lowly spoken question gives me pause.
“I need a favor from you while you’re on vacation.”
My lips purse in a grim line, and I shoot Vincent a dark look. “What is it?”
“I have something someone wants. Something she’d stop at nothing to have back. I need you to make it go away.”
I glance back toward the pretty girl and the roaring fire. Being a leader was all about cleaning up after my brothers’ messes. It was about being the one they came to when they needed help. I’d never once had a problem that I couldn’t solve on my own or that I needed to enlist the help of others for. But it seemed they always did.
“And what will I get in return?” I counter.
Vincent raises his brows, shocked by the request. I never ask for anything in return, but things change, as do people, like the tides.
“I’ll be indebted to you until the end of time,” he replies dryly.
A cold grin washes over my face. “You make it too easy, Hawthorne.”
Vincent chuckles, shoving my arm. “Fucking asshole.”
“Don’t I know it.”
My gaze finds the pretty girl again, only now I realize she’s not alone. Her big doe eyes are fixed on Trent as he makes his move on her. She’s utterly transfixed by him. It’s written all over her face.
“Taking anyone back to the kissing rock tonight before you leave?” Zach asks, clapping me on the shoulder, as he sidles up next to Vincent and me. I glance around at the half-dressed girls, the drunken ones, and the quiet ones, and I shake my head.
“I’m not going.”
“All the more pussy for us.” Zach smirks, sharing a conspiratorial look with Vincent.
I startle on the couch as Marcus shakes me awake, cursing violently.
“Get the fuck up, Sebastian!”
I jerk his arm off me, not in the mood for his shit. The alcohol is still swimming through my veins, making me drowsy.
“Get up, goddammit! Vincent is in the hospital. Do you understand me? This is bad. So fucking bad.”
My eyes spring open, and I jerk upright, the remnants of my dream clearing, as my consciousness hits me full force. My stomach clenches, threatening to spill the hordes of liquor I consumed only hours prior.
“What the fuck happened?”
“I don’t know,” he pants, raking a hand through his hair, as he paces back and forth like a caged animal. “I told you when I got here that something was up. He’s been acting strange. When I tracked his phone, he was in Ferndale. I just got a call from his mother. They’ve airlifted him from Eureka to West Hills.”
A cold chill travels down my spine at the mention of our hometown. It’s a sore spot in our friendship. The name alone makes all the guys act irrational, out of fear.
“We need to leave. Now.”
With a slew of curse words, I shoot to my feet and dress in record time. The penthouse is a fucking mess, but that’ll have to wait until later. I follow Marcus out, my head spinning with theories. For years, there’s been dead silence on the Ferndale front. No one spoke about that summer, and no one bothered looking into the case, but something has changed. Why now? Why is someone digging nine years later?
Who the fuck would care?
During the entire ride to West Hills Medical, my phone is blowing up with article after article, posting about Vincent’s apparent wreck. Some tabloids claim it’s drugs, others drunk driving, while others merely wrote the bare minimum. Once the calls start coming through, I heave a tired sigh. That was the thing about the media and being in the spotlight. The vultures just sit in lieu with the others and wait for the shoe to drop. They wait for a morsel of a story they can spin. And this? They didn’t need to wait long. One of us in a car accident is enough of a story and fodder to keep them going for the next two weeks, before they move on to the next poor, unfortunate soul.
I rake a frustrated hand through my hair, still feeling the effects of the alcohol and everything that happened with Mackenzie running through my system. I need to sober up. I need a clear head before I deal with whatever shitshow is happening in Vincent’s life now.
Tension fills the air when I step into the sterile hospital room beside Marcus, my gaze narrowing on Vincent who is currently in bed, hooked up to a machine. The side of his face is bruised and scraped. His nose is obviously broken, and his leg is propped in a sling, wrapped in a cast. He looks a fucking mess with an arm that is casted. Save for the bruising and the cuts all over his face, I’m guessing whatever happened could’ve been much worse.
Averting my gaze, I glance around the rest of the hospital room. Of course, it’s a luxury room, equipped with chaises instead of the normal hard chairs the visitors are forced to sit in. The only other person in the room is Trent. Zach is nowhere to be found.