“Yeah,” Matt said, even though he hadn’t been watching the game. “Mr. Pruitt?” He looked over at him.
“Yes, Matthew?”
“While you’re fixing up the security at your place, could Brooklyn come stay at my house?”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
As much as I loved being surrounded by my mom’s old things…I wanted to go with Matt. Mr. Pruitt didn’t let boys spend the night. It was one of the only rules I knew. But I had a feeling Matt’s house would be different. I missed falling asleep in his arms. I didn’t want to have to spend the night here without him. “Please, Dad?”
His eyes softened. “Is that what you want?” he asked.
I nodded.
Mr. Pruitt looked back at Matt. “Do you still have that security system?”
“Yes,” Matt said.
“And you’ll let me send a few of my own people?”
“I’m sure that will be fine.”
“Well, let me call your mother to make sure it’s okay. Separate beds though, yes?”
“Of course, sir,” Matt said.
I hoped he was lying.
“I’m serious about the sleeping arrangements,” Mr. Pruitt said, as if he could read my thoughts.
“As am I,” Matt said.
Mr. Pruitt nodded. “I’ll call your mother then. Maybe we can head over after the game?”
“That would be great,” I said. “And maybe we can swing by Kennedy’s to check on her?”
“She’s resting. How about you wait to chat with her until tomorrow when she’s feeling better?”
“Oh. Okay.” I wanted to press it, but he was already letting me stay with Matt. I had to take that win. I just hoped Kennedy was feeling better soon because I missed her terribly.
My father pulled his phone out of his pocket and stood up. “I’ll be right back.”
“Separate beds?” I whispered up to Matt.
“No. I’m not letting you out of my sight after last night. I just knew your dad wouldn’t approve.”
A little white lie was worth getting to be back in his arms where I belonged.
He ran his fingers across my bottom lip again. “I swear I’m going to protect you, Brooklyn. Nothing bad is ever going to happen to you again. I promise.”
I believed him. He used to lie to me. But there was nothing to lie about now. And as soon as I told him about Miller, we’d have no secrets.
“Miller and Donnelley will be here to drive you over,” my dad said.
Oh God.
“I’ll want them both to secure the perimeter for the night.”
I wasn’t sure which was worse. Miller having to escort me to Matt’s before I’d had a chance to talk to him, or Donnelley because he was freaking in Isabella’s pocket. “But Donnelley…”
“Has been taught a lesson,” my dad said. “He won’t let anything bad happen to you ever again. And he had valuable information about Isabella’s plans. You can trust him. He knows the consequences if he steps out of line again.”
I had no idea what he meant by any of that. But I didn’t like the sound of it. Especially the fact that plans was plural. What else had Isabella been planning?
“You okay?” Matt asked.
“Mhm.” But my voice came out weird and high-pitched. I couldn’t tell Matt about Miller in front of my dad. Or else Miller would get fired. And I wouldn’t get a chance to tell Miller that I was choosing Matt before seeing him. It was a disaster.
***
Oh my God. I stared at Miller who was leaning against the car. His face was barely recognizable. There were so many bruises and cuts. He stared at me like he was dying. And I didn’t know if it because of his physical pain, or if it was just killing him to see me with Matt.
I looked at Donnelley in the driver seat. If anything, he looked worse. Is that what it looks like when Mr. Pruitt teaches someone a lesson? A chill ran down my spine. And why had he done it to Miller? Or had someone else done that to Miller last night? He’d disappeared. I’d thought he was mad at me…but what if he’d been in trouble? He’d needed me and I hadn’t been there.
“You okay?” Matt asked and slipped his hand into mine.
The look on Miller’s face said it all. He was angry and sad and hurt. So freaking hurt.
I looked down at my feet. “Yeah.”
“Miller and Donnelley, check out the Caldwells’ security system,” my dad said. “If there are any weak points, notify me right away. Otherwise, I expect you to do surveillance for the evening. And Brooklyn needs her rest, so she won’t be going to school tomorrow. You bring her right back here in the morning.”
“I’m skipping school tomorrow,” Matt said. “To take care of her.”
My dad nodded and turned back to Miller. “Very well. I’ll have someone switch out with you two in the morning. Got it?”
“Yes sir,” Miller said.
My dad leaned down and hugged me. “If you need anything, call me,” he said. “Anything at all, okay?”
“Okay.” My voice sounded strangled. I wanted to yell at him for what he had done to Donnelley and maybe Miller too. But I didn’t know what to say.
He kissed my cheek and then climbed into his town car.
Matt grabbed the back door and opened it when Miller didn’t move. “After you,” he said with a smile.
I didn’t move. I couldn’t move. “Did my dad do that to you?” I asked Miller.
“Your dad?” He seemed confused by what I’d called Mr. Pruitt. And then he looked down at my hand in Matt’s. He shook his head. For a few seconds, he didn’t say anything at all. But his silence was loud and clear.
“Miller…”
“Miss Pruitt, please get in,” Miller said, cutting me off. “And make sure to buckle your seatbelt.”
Miss Pruitt. The words felt like a knife in my chest.
“Come on, Brooklyn,” Matt said. “I’ll help you.” He lifted me into his arms like the reason I wasn’t moving was because I was in pain.
I was. Just not the way he thought. I blinked away the tears in my eyes.
Miller slammed the door behind us.
Miss Pruitt. Did Miller seriously think I was like them? I was still a Sanders. I was. Right?
I looked at the front seat where Donnelley was sitting. He flinched under my gaze. Was he scared of me?
Matt put his arm around my shoulders, oblivious to how Donnelley and Miller were acting. If this was what it felt like to be elite, I didn’t want anything to do with it.
Chapter 7
Sunday
The car came to a stop on the circular driveway. I looked out the window. The first time I’d been to Matt’s mansion, everything had seemed sinister. The gargoyles didn’t look quite as menacing during the day. Besides, he was here with me. I looked at the front seat. And Miller. My stomach twisted in knots.
“Ready to meet my parents?” Matt asked.
Not really. I felt like I was going to be sick. How could I meet his parents when I had been in Miller’s bed just a couple days ago? And I was wearing my mom’s squirrel pajamas. I’d added a jean jacket to it that had been in the room with all my mom’s things. But none of it could be classified as ready to meet the parents attire.