Never His Girl (Kings of Cypress Prep #2) - Rachel Jonas Page 0,1

He showed up without a single question and had been holed up in this seedy motel room with me for a little more than twenty-four hours.

Not sure what I would’ve done without him.

‘What West did sucks, but you don’t have to hide from me,’ is Jules’ next text. ‘Remember that time I made out with that guy at Marie’s party? Only to find out he’s kind of my cousin? If I survived that, you’ll get through this, BJ. Trust me.”

I hate that she’s managed to make me smile. It feels undeserved, like all I should be doing right now is beating myself up for being so, so stupid. I’d been perfectly fine wallowing in self-pity before this.

‘Soon’, I promise her. ‘I just need a minute to clear my head.’

‘Fair enough, but call me as soon as you feel up to it.’

‘Of course.’

Ricky’s bed creaks again and I lower my phone, turning to face him. Both his arms are folded behind his head while he stares at the ceiling. The way he’s working his jaw makes it even clearer he’s not himself. Hasn’t been since he showed up. He stepped in to save me from the whispers, the pointing, the laughter at my expense, but it isn’t lost on me that seeing the video affects him differently than others.

Once upon a time, I was his. Which is why I know him to be a fierce protector. Like, the kind who once broke a guy’s nose for groping me at a party when he thought Ricky wasn’t paying attention. His temper is like nothing I’ve seen before, which is why I’m willing to bet he saw red the entire drive out to this place. Some of that may have been fueled by ego—the sting of seeing me with someone else—but it’s more than that. He cares, and he also knows I’m hurt.

Bad this time.

His phone chimes and he glares at the screen through the darkness. It’s gone off about fifty times tonight and I don’t have to guess who’s hawking him.

“Sorry I dragged you out here. I know Paul’s probably pissed you left,” I say quietly.

I see his silhouette, outlined in pale, fluorescent light filtering in from the bulb over the walkway outside our room’s window.

“It’s fine. I just left some things undone, now he’s all up my ass about it. Things have been … busy.”

Busy.

I know what that means, and it makes my heart skip a beat. It means he’s been out on the streets more, doing his uncle’s bidding, putting himself in danger. I knew as much when he took off his shirt before going into the bathroom to shower last night. Not only was there a gun visible, tucked into the back of his jeans, but there was also a new-to-me tattoo on his back. With its bold colors and pristine artwork, I found the depiction of a skull clutching a bloody rose in its teeth both beautiful and tragic. Above the image, words I’d seen and heard before.

‘Justicia en la vida. Justicia en la muerte’.

Justice in life. Justice in death—the maxim upheld by those entangled in his family’s “business”.

Seeing it there, forever marking his skin, it became clear how much deeper he’s gotten involved since we were involved. How much harder it would be for him to get out, if I thought it possible at all.

I decide not to speak on what he’s just shared about his uncle. It’ll only end in an argument, and I don’t have the energy. Instead, I lie still and quiet, trying to convince myself this nightmare of a life isn’t real.

Mike isn’t a raging alcoholic.

Mom didn’t run away and forget about me and Scar.

Hunter isn’t locked up.

Ricky isn’t headed down that same path.

And I didn’t just make even more of a mess of my life.

When will I wake up? When will the bad dream end?

“Not gonna happen.”

I’m startled when Ricky utters those three words, seeming to answer the question I hadn’t said out loud. Then, I realize he’s on a call.

“I understood the first time you said it, and I already told you, I’m not worried.”

Before I can catch the gist of what the conversation is about, it’s over.

“Paul again?” I ask.

There’s a long sigh before Ricky answers. “Who else?”

For a second, guilt sets in. After all, he dropped everything to be here with me. But then I remember what it is I pulled him away from, and I don’t feel so bad about it anymore. At least with him here, I