Page 21 of Victory at Prescott High (The Havoc Boys 5)
Aaron pauses there and waits, but when nobody says anything, a deep frown appears on his face.
“What took so fucking long?” Vic asks, moving up behind me and stealing Aaron’s pizza slice. We’re all starving; we have to take a break to eat. Really, I could use a shower and a nap, too, but I’m not sure I’ll be able to relax enough to do any of those things.
“When they wouldn’t tell me if Bernadette was safe, I spit in Constantine’s coffee.” Aaron strokes his fingers through my hair and smiles down at me. “He left me in the interrogation room for six hours by myself.”
I almost laugh, but the sound hurts too much trying to come out, so I don’t bother. Instead, I curl my arms around Aaron’s neck and lean up on my tiptoes, watching his long lashes flutter as our lips brush and then ignite with that usual sense of desperation and need. We were separated for too long; we can’t get enough. Even as we kiss, and I dig my fingers into his wavy chestnut hair, I know that I could fall forever into him and I would never hit the ground. It would be an endless sensation of floating, of falling, of dizzying heights rushing past at the speed of light.
The home phone rings, and I startle so bad that I end up nicking Aaron’s lip with my teeth.
“Cal …” I breathe, glancing back.
“Go,” Aaron says, pressing an aggressively affectionate kiss to my forehead and giving me a small push with his hand. I notice that his cast is missing which annoys me since it’s about two weeks early for it to come off. But I’ll chastise him later.
This could be Callum, calling to let us know he’s okay.
It has to be Callum, right?
Because as much as he jokes around about being the first of us to die, I won’t allow it. I won’t allow any of them to sacrifice themselves or be snuffed out in a stupid fucking gang war. Prescott—and the city of Springfield—belong to us. We deserve to rule first; we deserve to be happy first.
“I feel like I’m in a fucking nineties movie,” I grumble, because dark humor is Cal’s thing, and it makes me feel closer to him when I use it. “Hello?”
I swear to fuck, if this is someone asking me if I like scary movies, I’m going to kill them and bury their body under an endangered plant so that nobody can legally dig it up.
“Bernadette, it’s Sara,” the detective begins, and I sigh. It’s a sound so heavy and ominous that it causes police girl to hesitate. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I don’t want to hear from Sara motherfucking Young.
That is … unless she has news about Callum.
I close my eyes.
“Where did you get this number from?” I ask, but then I realize that I already know the answer: off my fucking phone. “Never mind, don’t answer that. It’ll just piss me off.”
“Honey, I need to talk to you for a moment. Are you alone?”
That gives me pause, but I just shrug my shoulders, remember that she can’t see me, and sigh again. “Close enough. What’s up?”
“Well, the hospital just called your cell.”
I stare at the wall above the phone where an old painting sits. It’s a wolf, painted by Aaron’s mom back in high school. I’d wonder why it was still hanging here if I didn’t understand how screwed up mommy issues could be. My mother allowed her husband to rape my sister. How could I ever forget that? Why don’t I just want her dead and fucking gone?
“Okay,” I say, because I have no idea where this is going. “And?”
“They’d like you to call them back. It sounds urgent. Do you want to write their number down?” I just narrow my eyes slightly. I don’t like the direction of this conversation. Immediately I’m thinking internal bleeding or some shit. I let them draw my blood when I was there, do some tests. Maybe a result came back that isn’t good? At least if I call them back now, maybe I’ll understand why I feel like such shit at the moment.
“I have Google, but thanks for letting me know. I’ll call them.” I hang up and turn back to the table, grabbing Aaron’s laptop off the edge of the couch arm on the way.
“What’s up?” Vic asks, but I just shake my head.
“I need to call the hospital real quick,” I say, and he gives me a dark look. “I have no idea what for. That was Sara Young; she said they called my phone, so I’m calling them. Chill out.”
My stomach clenches again, and I let out a long, low breath, putting my hand across my belly. Period cramps plus body aches from being beaten on the front lawn of my school. Fucking ouch.
