Path of Destruction (8 page)

“Oh, I know him. He’s a douche.”

“That’s not a fair assessment,” she countered, feeling herself becoming overprotective. “He’s always been good to me.”

“Yeah, you and every other poor, naïve girl who crosses his path.” His words were laced with contempt.

If this was what he thought of her, then maybe she shouldn’t have been so flattered that he thought she was pretty. Pretty stupid was more like it.

“Now wait just a damn minute—”

“Easy, girl,” he said, warranting a glare from her.

A little piece of the old Cami surfaced, not liking it when people told her to calm down. Not to mention his choice of words.
Easy, girl.

For just a moment, the world around them fell away, and Brantley Cooper transformed before her eyes into an entirely different boy—a man, really—one with blond hair adjusting his hat in the sunshine outside of her pool house. But then he was gone and only a stranger remained.

“Well, I guess it’s easy to judge people when you hardly know them.” With that, she’d had enough. Enough of this big oaf’s speculation about her and Hayden. Enough of Raquel’s condescension. And enough of this damn school. She didn’t care if she still had a class left. She was going home for the day.

She pushed her chair back from the table and stood. Before he had a chance to catch her with another one of his comments, she was out the door, making a point to toss her useless binder into the wastebasket on her way out.

S
he wasn’t sure which was worse: being in that meeting with all the people who didn’t understand her anymore or being at home with the ones who were so sure that they did.

“I don’t understand why you don’t understand where this is coming from?” her mother argued as Cami flipped through the channels on the television, trying to find a rerun of America’s Next Top Model and ignore her mother. Unfortunately, even the drama on Teen Mom couldn’t drown her out. “You signed up for this pageant months ago, Cameron. You can’t go back on your commitments. Besides, you look incredible and I really think you’ll win this year.”

I look incredible?

Her mother was of course referring to the ten pounds she’d lost while she was in the hospital. In a coma. Why did she have to keep reminding people that she’d almost died?

“I just don’t want to do it,” Cami finally admitted. “Is it really that big of a deal?”

As of late, her mother had been over the top in the smothering, give-you-whatever-you-want-because-I’ve-been-a-horrible-mother category, but she could tell from the look on her face that this subject didn’t fall within the realm of giving in.

“No, it’s not okay. Pageants are your thing, honey. You’re good at them, and the doctors said it’s best for your recovery if you get back to your normal routine.”

She hated her normal routine. She knew that her mother was probably going to blame the next outburst on her swollen brain or PTSD or whatever else the doctors said were her parting gifts from surviving her near death experience, but she didn’t care.

“I’m not doing it. No matter how much you beg or plead, Mom. You can’t force me down the runway. Quit asking.” She dropped the remote control on the couch as she stood up and proceeded to stomp up to her room, making her disdain for the subject perfectly clear. And just in case her mother hadn’t got the memo, she slammed her bedroom door shut behind her.

She fell onto the bed in the center of her room and held her cell phone up in front of her face. After sliding her finger across the screen, the photograph Kyle had taken of them sitting poolside in a lounge chair popped up. His lips were pressed to her cheek and for a moment she could feel the sensation on her skin. She could hear him saying, “Smile,” just before the click of the camera.

Without thinking, she flipped through her contacts list and dialed his number. She was living in the fantasy of his memory, hearing his voice on his voicemail greeting was all she needed to be completely surrounded by him. She waited as it rang. Four rings. She knew how many it took. She probably called his phone at least a dozen times since that day in the hallway when she saw his picture in the trophy case. Hoping each time that he’d answer and tell her it was just a sick and twisted joke. Each time, she waited for a different outcome. Today was the day.

“Hello?”

F
or a solid week, Cooper circled Ella Jane everywhere she went. She didn’t come back to first period, so he suspected she had her schedule changed to avoid him. The only way he was going to get to speak with her was either to throw down with Cooper at school and risk a three-day suspension or go to her house.

He’d gotten his cast off, but as much as his fists itched to give Brantley Cooper a little insight to what a pretty boy he wasn’t, he knew hurting Cooper in any way would upset her. What he also knew was that she’d lowered her guard when he’d kissed her. The memory of her lips moving hungrily against his was enough to have him driving to her house after lacrosse team workouts that Friday.

All week, he’d had to babysit his grandma to ensure that she didn’t do anything that would give his parents a reason to cart her off to the local old folks’ home. The few lucid moments she had, she’d cried, remembering that his granddad was gone. Then she’d slipped blessedly back into her childlike state of eternal confusion.

School had become a kind of reprieve from his house. Then Cami had attached herself to his ass, meeting him before and after every class to detail every moment they were apart. She wasn’t attacking his mouth as much anymore, but she was still hanging on to him like a life preserver, which was so unlike her that he was starting to seriously worry.

So much for a carefree senior year. He was beginning to feel old before his time with all the constant worrying about everyone. Thank God he’d taken most of his graduation requirements already and didn’t have to work as hard as the previous years to maintain his GPA. That was about all he was thankful for at the moment.

That morning, he’d taken Atticus outside to do his business and then made his grandma breakfast—pancakes that weren’t nearly as good as the ones she used to make when he was kid—and made sure she ate before he’d left for school. Then he’d nodded along at Cami’s detailed daily agenda between classes while Cooper shot him death glares before deciding that he wasn’t going straight home after workouts.

Sweaty and sore, Hayden aimed his Jeep toward Hope’s Grove.

He hadn’t been since they’d retrieved a few of his grandma’s salvageable things from his grandparents’ house. The path of destruction was still clearly evident, as not many building or homes had been repaired beyond throwing blue tarps over the roofs. His grandfather’s voice detailing the landmarks of town played in his head as he passed the damaged structures. The pride he could still hear in it made his chest tighten.

Pops had been proud of this place, and after a life-changing summer in it, Hayden could see why. He made a mental note to get in touch with the pastor at the church his grandma attended and find out how to help with the cleanup. He was already going to be in Hope’s Grove helping work on his grandparents’ destroyed roof—might as well help out with the rest of town while he was there.

Pulling up in the Masons’ driveway, passing the faded white sign with Mason Lawn Care & Landscaping written in dark-blue chipped paint across it, he recalled the many mornings his granddad had dropped him off at the ass crack of dawn—something he’d initially hated. Until her.

He could still see her coming out the front door, the way her tan lines had shown beneath her tank top. That fierce look of determination she always wore, his throat constricted at the memory of how that look had softened on him eventually, how she’d looked past who he was and where he was from and finally saw
him.

Damn. This was not going to be as easy as he’d originally thought. But then easy was no longer his style. That guy who’d wanted everything handed to him had changed, after having his ass kicked and handed to him all summer by a seventy-eight-year-old man and sixteen-year-old blue-eyed blonde, he’d learned to appreciate the fact that the things worth having in life didn’t come easy. He was willing to work for them—however long that took.

He just hoped it wouldn’t take
too
long because not being able to hold her, kiss her, and tell her everything he wanted to say was killing him a little.

He didn’t see her late brother’s truck outside, but he knew they had a detached four-car garage it could have been in. What he did see was a shiny, black Lexus IS 350 C out front that screamed midlife crisis. Mrs. Mason hadn’t seemed like the type to splurge on something so impractical, but it was a badass piece of machinery, and he gave it a solid once-over as he walked around to the front door.

He’d barely so much as knocked when the door swung open wide. “Can I help you?”

A middle-aged man with startling, ice-cold eyes and perfectly styled golden hair stepped out onto the front porch.

“Nice car,” Hayden said, stepping back and gesturing behind him.

“It’s not for sale,” the mystery man answered. The way he crossed his arms reminded him of someone. Not Ella Jane exactly, but someone… Her brother.

This man was basically a slightly shorter, nearly as fit, but much older version of Kyle Mason. Their dad, then. Hayden didn’t know how to feel about him. He’d lost his son, so he knew he should offer his condolences, yet he’d seen how deeply wounded Ella Jane had been about his taking off and never bothering to visit her. So the reaction he was having wasn’t the appropriate one. His eyes narrowed, but he minded his manners as Pops had taught him to.

You respect adults, son. Always.

Taking in a quick breath, he reached out his hand. “Hayden Prescott. I worked here a bit this summer. Erwin Prescott’s grandson.”

Surprisingly, Mr. Mason didn’t shake his hand. He eyed him warily before smirking. “Kevin Prescott’s son, you mean?”

“Uh, yes, sir.” Hayden let his hand fall to his side. So her dad was a dick then. No big surprise there.

“Well I can see why you’d introduce yourself the way you did then.”

“Excuse me, sir?” It took all of his effort not to speak through gritted teeth.

“Your father… Let’s just say I’m well aware of some of his less-than-legal business ventures.”

Tension tightened in his gut.
That makes two of us.

“I’m not sure what you’re referring to, sir.”

“What are you doing here, Hayden? I already told you the car isn’t for sale. Something else I can help you with?”

He swallowed the nerves building behind his question. “I’m here to see Ella Jane, actually.”

“You’re here to see my daughter?” Her dad smirked at him as if he’d said something amusing.

“Yes, sir.”

“And why would you want to see my daughter? I’m sure you see her plenty at school, right?”

Hayden wanted to kick his own ass. He could hear his voice rising as the man glared at him.

“Actually, no, sir. We don’t have any classes together, so I don’t see her much at all. I’m a senior this year.”

He didn’t know why he’d added that last part. Probably wasn’t helping his case any.

“Well, let me give you some advice. If Ella Jane wants to see you, you’ll know.”

This much was true.

“Is she home?”

The man leveled him with a cool, even-keeled stare. But Hayden saw the answer. She wasn’t here anyway, so why her dad felt the need to muscle him out, he wasn’t sure. The man hadn’t cared what she’d been up to all summer. But maybe losing one kid made you extremely protective of the one you had left. Despite the fact that her dad seemed like a first-class jerk, Hayden was glad that she’d have him back in her life if that was what she wanted.

Now to figure out if she wanted
him
in her life.

“It was nice to meet you, sir.” Hayden didn’t make a fool of himself by trying to shake the man’s hand again. He just gave a slight nod before turning back to his Jeep.

“Hey, kid,” Mr. Mason called out just as Hayden reached it.

He turned, standing still with an arm on the door to let him know he was listening.

“I don’t know what your interest in my daughter is, but if I find out it’s anything more than help with your homework, I’d have to make a call to a buddy of mine at the local precinct.”

Hayden’s brow dipped in confusion. He was about to turn eighteen, but she’d be seventeen a few months after. He couldn’t imagine that the cops would get involved over a one-year age difference.

“I don’t know what you—”

“I’m sure the boys down at the station would love to know about your dad’s extracurricular activities.” Hayden felt his own eyes threatening to put his fear on display. He schooled his features to remain unaffected. “And I’d be willing to
bet
,” her dad continued, pausing intentionally, “that you have some interesting extracurricular activities of your own.”

Hayden swallowed hard.

How the hell does he know?

He hadn’t told Ella Jane about his dad and the crap he’d gotten him into. So how Mr. Mason knew was beyond him.

What would Pops say in this situation?