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Twisted Palace

Page 17

   


His face is hard, which means he’s worried. I’m learning that Reed gets mean when he feels backed into a corner, and this corner filled with police, investigators, and prison has to feel like the smallest, loneliest corner in the world.
“Does he want me there, too?” I ask warily.
“No. But I do.” Reed glances at his youngest brother. “Seb, you cool driving Ella’s car back?”
Sebastian nods. “No prob.”
I toss him the keys, then watch as he heads for my convertible while Easton jogs off to football practice. Reed and I climb into his Range Rover, but I’m not sure why he asked me to ride with him, because he doesn’t say a single word for the first five minutes of the drive.
I stare out the window, chewing on my thumbnail. Silent Reed is tough for me to deal with. It reminds me too much of when I first moved in with the Royals. All I received from Reed were glares and cutting remarks, which was a huge difference from what I was used to. Mom was slightly—okay, really—irresponsible, but she was always cheerful and never kept her emotions in check. I was the one who did that.
“Say it,” Reed suddenly barks.
I’m startled. “Say what?”
“Whatever it is you’re obsessing about. I can hear you thinking, and if you bite any harder on your finger, it’s gonna come off.”
Chagrined, I look down at the teeth marks on the side of my thumb. Rubbing the redness away, I say, “I didn’t think you noticed.”
He answers in a low, gruff tone. “I notice everything about you, baby.”
“I’m worried. You keep telling me not to be, but it’s only getting worse” I admit. “At school, it’s easy to see the enemy. To categorize people into helpful or unhelpful, for you or against you. This thing just seems so big.”
So scary, but I keep that to myself. Reed doesn’t need to hear my fears. He’d take them on his shoulders and try to carry them along with all the other baggage that’s weighing him down.
“It’s all going to get taken care of,” he says, his capable hands guiding the SUV down the long paved driveway toward the Royal house. “Because I didn’t do it.”
“Then who did?”
“Maybe the kid’s father? Brooke was probably shaking down as many marks as she could that night. I wasn’t the only idiot who—” He stops abruptly.
I’m glad he does, because I don’t like thinking of Reed having sex with anyone else, even if it was before me. God, it’d be so nice if he was a virgin.
“You should be a virgin,” I inform him.
He lets out a surprised laugh. “That’s what’s got you all wound up?”
“No, but think about how many problems would be solved by that. You wouldn’t have this thing with Brooke. The girls at school wouldn’t be drooling all over you.”
“If I was a virgin, all those girls at school would be trying to get in my pants so they could say they were the first to climb Mount Reed.” He grins as he pulls to a stop around the side of the house.
The Royals have an entire parking area in the courtyard with special brick pavers set into a spiral pattern that leads into a garage that stores all their vehicles. Except no one likes to use the garage. Usually the courtyard is filled with the black Rovers or Easton’s cherry-red pickup.
“Girls aren’t like that,” I say as I get out of the SUV and reach in for my backpack. “They wouldn’t compete to deflower you.”
Reed’s hand is there first. He pulls the bag out of my grip with a smirk. “Girls are exactly like that. Why do you think Jordan’s after you all the time? You’re competition, babe. Doesn’t matter what you’ve got downstairs, most people are competitive as shit. And the kids at Astor? They’re the worst of the lot. If I was a virgin, that’d be one more contest for someone to win.”
“If you say so.”
He comes around the front of the Rover and drapes an arm around my shoulder. Dipping low so that his mouth touches the upper curve of my ear, he whispers, “We can play I’m the virgin and you’re the experienced upperclassman after I pop your cherry.”
I hit him because he deserves it, but it only makes him laugh more. And even though he’s laughing at my expense, I’m glad because I like happy Reed over quiet, angry Reed.
His good mood doesn’t last, though. Callum greets us at the door with a stern look.
“Good to see you’re enjoying yourself,” he says flatly as we enter the kitchen.
When I notice Steve at the counter, I jump in surprise. I know it’s crazy, but I keep forgetting about him. It’s like my brain isn’t capable of handling more than one crisis at a time, and Reed possibly going to jail is the only thing I can focus on. Each time I see Steve, it’s almost like I’m hit with the news that he’s alive over and over again.
I don’t miss the way his blue eyes narrow as they land on Reed’s arm around my shoulders. Steve’s expression looks vaguely like parental disapproval, something I haven’t experienced before. Mom was as easygoing as they came.
I slide out from under Reed’s arm under the pretense of going to the refrigerator. “Want something?” I offer.
Reed gives me an amused smile. “Sure, what’re you offering?”
Jerk. He knows exactly why I left him at the kitchen doorway, and now he’s making fun of me for it. Resisting the urge to give him the finger, I grab a container of yogurt.
Callum claps his hands together to get our attention. “Get a spoon and meet me in the study.”
“Us,” Steve corrects.
Callum waves a hand as he walks away.
“Stop it with the innuendo,” I hiss to Reed as I grab a spoon out of the drawer.
“Why? Dad knows about us.”
“But Steve doesn’t,” I point out. “It’s weird, okay? Let’s just pretend to be—”
Reed quirks an eyebrow.
“Friends,” I finish, because all the alternatives are too weird.
“Pretend? I thought we were friends. I’m hurt.” He slaps an exaggerated hand over his chest.
“You’re not now, but I can change that.” I wave my spoon at him threateningly. “I’m not afraid to get physical with you, pal.”
“I can’t wait.” His hand falls to my hip and drags me closer. “Why don’t you get physical with me right now?”