“He was out of line regardless,” Chasm growls, gritting his teeth in frustration. “I should rightfully kick his ass.”
“But you won’t, because you know he’s got a point. He suspects us for a reason.” I head into the hallway with Chasm following, already dreading the day before it even gets started. I can’t imagine things are going to improve from here on out. I’m averaging maybe three hours of sleep a day if I’m lucky. Last night, I couldn’t bear to close my eyes. All I could think about was Parrish and that knife pressed to his chest. He’ll have seven marks by now. Seven. I can’t even imagine what he’s going through.
We head downstairs to where Maxx is waiting, leaning against the wall near the garage with his arms crossed over his shirt. It’s black and green, another Wright Family Racing tee. His stare is so intense that I can’t help but fidget underneath it.
“Dude, really? Why don’t you find something better to do?” Chasm gets up close and personal with his friend, but I grab him by the blazer sleeve and force him back a step. I’m not about to see two childhood friends get into a brawl because one of them rightfully suspects the other of lying. It’s not Chasm’s fault that he can’t tell the truth, but it also isn’t wrong of Maxx to be angry with us.
“Oh, believe me. Once I get even a hint of the bullshit you two are up to, I’ll have a lot of better things to do. I might tell Tess. I might tell the cops. Who knows? Depends on the situation.”
Chasm goes to lunge forward, but I throw my arms around his waist, squeezing him tight. The move seems to stun him. It also serves to confuse Tess as she comes out of the kitchen area to see me hugging her son’s best friend like we’re an item or something.
“Dakota,” she warns, but at least she gets my name right. I release Chas as quickly as I grabbed onto him, my face flushing as I stumble back and turn to face her. Tess looks like a different person right now, like all the silly, quirky parts of her—the parts that mumble plot points in the kitchen or choose typewriters over laptops—have been squashed. She’s all cold, frigid multimillionaire today. “Make sure you come home early; I’ve already called the school to let them know you’ll be leaving after lunch.”
She turns and walks away, but she doesn’t tell me why, exactly, she wants me home.
“The entire family is going on the news to plead for information on Parrish; Tess is even offering a million-dollar reward for information leading to his safe return.” Maxx stands up straight and sighs, giving Chas and me a once-over. “You will be here for that, right?”
“Go fuck yourself,” Chasm spits, shoving past him as Kimber comes down the stairs to join us. She gives us all a weird look, but her spirit is as diminished as everyone else’s. Parrish is to Kimber as Maxine is to me. She loves him, even if they don’t always get along.
I use her as a shield to escape Maxx. I’m not sure I can handle another confrontation like the one we had on Thursday. But as I’m trying to slip out, he grabs me by the arm and Kimber slips past me.
Shit.
“I think I can get you out of the house tomorrow if you pretend to join the search party; Maxine really wants to see you.” I nod, but he doesn’t release me, wetting his lips like there’s something else he wants to say. Instead, he lets go of me and we exchange a long, studying sort of look. “I’ve decided that if you’re not talking, you must be in danger.”
I blink at him because, like, that’s a huge jump to make. Isn’t it?
“Why would you think that?” I whisper, unable to make my voice raise even a single decibel.
“Because you’re not the sort of person who’d do something like this intentionally.” Maxx leans back, putting one foot up against the wall.
“You’ve been spending too much time with Maxine.” I snort and shake my head, but Maxx gives a derisive laugh that makes me pause.
“No, it’s not that. It’s you. I’ve been looking at you through the wrong lens. You’re not like other people, Dakota Banks. I liked you straight off, first moment I met you. That’s never happened to me before. I refuse to believe my instincts about you were wrong.” He crosses his arms over his chest, still watching me, taking me in with those beautiful eyes of his. Once again, his words ring with confidence, with a self-assuredness that I find almost staggering.
“Arrogant, much? I must be a good person because you think I am? You’re a cocky asshole, Maxx Wright.” It’s a quip not unlike one I might’ve once slung at Chasm or Parrish. Guess Maxx and I have a like-hate thing going on, too.
