Credence

“You said you didn’t want to fish,” my uncle says behind me.

I reel in the line, glancing over my shoulder and seeing him approach.

I turn back around.

He found me.

My flannel, tied around my waist, blows against my thighs as the skin on my bare back and shoulders prickles.

He stops next to me, baiting his hook.

After the boys darted off to cliff dive before, Jake tried to get me to fish, droning on about how the reel and rod work and how to cast a line, but I barely listened. Kaleb’s jump off the top of the waterfall made my stomach drop even more than it already had during my interaction with Noah this morning.

I hadn’t wanted him to leave the shower.

I waited for him to touch me.

“You don’t like help, do you?” Jake asks me.

I draw in a breath. Nope. Which is why I decided to sneak over here when you weren’t looking and do it myself.

I watch the water flow where my line disappears under the surface. Do fish actually swim in streams with this much of a current?

“You’re not asking, you know?” he continues, trying to catch my eyes. “I was offering.”

“I’m a loner.”

He snorts under his breath. The current pulls the line, and I reel it in a few inches as he casts his own, the spool singing loudly.

He clears his throat. “So how is it you can shoot, but not fish?”

“I never cared to learn.”

“And now?”

I throw him a look. “I don’t want to be the only one who doesn’t know how.”

I don’t want the boys doing everything for me. And learning new things keeps my mind busy. I can do origami, play three songs on the ukulele, type seventy words a minute, and it only took me three months to train myself to do a handstand.

“Competitive, huh?” he asks.

“No, why?” I arch an eyebrow. “Is that a de Haas family trait?”

“No, a Van der Berg one.”

I look up at him. I expected a remark about my family.

“You’re ours now,” he says and looks down to meet my eyes.

Ours now.

When you’re here, you’re a Van der Berg, Noah had said.

Jake’s soft eyes hold mine, and the way he stares at me makes warmth bubble up in my chest, and I don’t know why. Noah and Kaleb seem miles away.

I look away, suddenly aware he’s half-dressed, but his eyes stay on me. I can see him out of the corner of my eye as I reel my line back in a little. His smell surrounds me—a mixture of grass, coffee, and something else I can’t place.

“These things are like ropes,” he says, and I feel him pick up one of my braids.

He squeezes my thick, blonde braid in his fist and releases it, clearing his throat. “Can I tell you something?” he asks.

I glance at him, my heart beating fast.

“Fish are usually hanging out where there’s a change in current or a change in depth,” he tells me. “See that eddy over there? The still water by the rock?”

I follow where he’s pointing, looking past the small rapid and whitewater, to the small, gently swirling pool.

I nod.

“That’s where we want to get your line,” he explains. “They’ll be waiting for insects, minnows, and all the other little guys to get washed down in the rapid.”

Oh.

That makes sense. I thought fish just swam everywhere.

Setting down his pole, he takes mine, reels it in, and then takes my hand, leading me out into the stream.

I tighten my grip, feeling the grooves of his rough palm in mine, almost wanting to thread my fingers through his just to feel it more.

My feet hit the cold water, my shoes instantly filling up as we tread out a few feet, and he comes up behind me, fitting my hand in his and putting both of ours on the handle.

I still, his bare chest blanketing my naked back, and I close my eyes for a moment.

Pulling our arms back, in unison, he tosses the line, letting it fly to the still pool and reeling it back in.

“If you don’t like fishing,” he says behind me, his voice low and husky, “there’s a pretty cool cave behind the waterfall. It doesn’t go that deep, but it’s peaceful.”

We cast the line again, trying to reach just beyond the pool. “Sounds like a good place for teenagers to do bad things,” I joke.

“As a matter of fact…” He chuckles.

Oh, great. I can only imagine what the boys get up to back there, growing up here as they have.

“If a guy takes you there,” he tells me, “now you’ll know what he’s after.”

“Then maybe you should take me.”

He stops spinning the reel, and I stop breathing. That sounded…

Oh, my God.

“I’ll be safer with you,” I rush to add, turning my head to glance at him. “I mean, right?”

He stares down at me, almost like he’s not breathing, either. “Yeah,” he mutters.

He finishes reeling the line back in, and I take it from him. Rearing my arm back slowly to give him time to veer out of my way, I cast the line, pressing my thumb into the button as soon as my arm shoots out in front of me. The line—silver in the sunlight—glints as it flies, and I land it just at the far edge of the pool.

“Good,” he says. “One more time.”

His heat covers my back, making the rest of my body miss the warmth. I reel the line back in.

Holding the handle, I inhale through my nose and finally pinpoint the part of his scent I couldn’t place before. Burnt wood. He smells like a fall night.

Unable to stop myself, I lean back a little, meeting his chest with my back as he puts his hand over mine on the handle.

“Am I crowding you?”

“No.” I shake my head.

Here I am, saying I don’t need help, but please don’t take your hand off.

He fits his grip on top of mine, both of us holding the handle and my arm resting on top of his.

He draws my arm backward. “Back,” he whispers with my thumb on the button and his thumb on me. And then we throw it, flicking our wrists as he calls out, “Release,” casting the line far out into the stream.

It billows into the air, pulled by the weight of the bait and drops into the water with a plunk.

His chest moves rapidly behind me, and I can barely hear his voice when he says, “That’s good, Tiernan.”

But he doesn’t move.

A light sweat covers my forehead, my breasts heave, and I wonder if his eyes are on them. I hope—

“We haven’t had a woman living in the house since their mother,” he tells me. “I don’t have a… a great track record with taking care of women.”

I look over my shoulder and up at him.

He shakes his head, whispering, “No matter how hard I try.”

His brow is etched with pain as he focuses on the stream, and my throat tightens.

His first love killed herself, and the mother of his children was sent to prison. He feels responsible.

“I thought I was protecting Kaleb and Noah, keeping them secluded up here,” he says, watching his line. “I think I just gave up, though. I didn’t want to fail again.”

I gaze at his eyes and how young they still are. How they betray all the things he still wants.

“I didn’t even have a desire to try,” he murmurs.

Then he looks down at me, and everything else stops.

“But now we have you,” he tells me.

His heated stare holds me frozen, and something pulls at every inch of my skin, begging for something.

His hands. His rough hands.

Heat pools low in my belly, and I’m wet. I feel the slickness between my thighs as I throb, embarrassment rising to my cheeks.

The fishing pole slips through my fingers, I jump, sucking in a breath, and watch the stream carry it away, bobbing over the current.

“I’m sorry,” I rush out. My mouth hangs open, and I back away, looking at Jake. “I’m…”

I struggle to keep my balance on the wet rocks.

He shakes his head, his voice gentle. “It’s okay,” he says, watching me. “Tiernan…”

“I’m really sorry,” I say again and dash away, jogging back up onto the beach and heading for the pond.

I need to dive. I need my whole body under the cold water.

Oh, my God. What was that? Did he know what I was thinking? Could he tell? He’s spilling his guts, and I’m standing there, getting turned on?

I charge for the pond, the boys nowhere in sight. Dropping my shorts and peeling off my shoes, I wade into the water a few feet and dive, the cool freshwater covering my body and caressing my scalp. My pores open up, releasing more heat, and I continue swimming, not wanting to come up and show my shame.

Only when my lungs are painfully stretched do I pop up to the surface, drawing in deep breaths. The waterfall pounds, shielding all other noise and enveloping me in a sort of silence as the mist hits my face.

Jake must think I’m such a girl. Emotional. Erratic.

I close my eyes and sink under the water again. Jesus.

I swim around the waterfall, grabbing hold of the rock as the water pummels my back. The sun is gone, and I push up, gasping for air and slicking my hair back over my head.

I look around, the water pounding behind me and shielding me from everything. I spot the entrance to the cave Jake mentioned, and trail down the rock ledge, heading for it, because it’s a decent place to hide for the moment.

My feet touch sharp rocks underneath the water, patches of icy water hitting my skin as I lightly step up for support. Water flows into the cave, ledges on both sides, and the hair on my neck rises as I look around the black den. I can hop up on the pathways on the side of the tunnel and walk deeper inside. Who knows how many caves and rooms sit off to the sides?

Tipping my head back, I feel drips hit my face as the roof bleeds, and I inhale the musty scent of wet rock and dark earth that sinks into my lungs.

A giant red octopus is spray-painted on the wall to my right, chipped and worn after years of erosion. Was it here when my uncle last was?

Do the boys come here?

My stomach swirls as I close my eyes, letting my heart calm and my head wander.

I shouldn’t have been having those thoughts about Noah in the shower. I should’ve stopped Kaleb the moment he started.

I shouldn’t feel…nervous around Jake Van der Berg. I’m desperate for attention and confused.

It feels good.

And right now, I want it. Drifting away behind my closed lids, I dive deep into my head, in the dark cave and surrounded by the thunder of water, so no one can hear my thoughts except me.

Here, I’m safe.

He’s there. Close. Taking my hand.

I follow as he leads me deeper into the cavern, and I want to go with him. I want him to want me somewhere dark and private.

I stop, and he circles around me, coming up behind me and pulling the strings of my top. My bikini falls away, and my instinct is to cover myself, but he reaches around and scoops up my breasts in both hands before I have a chance.

I groan at the images in my head, grabbing onto the rock for support. The tiny pulse between my legs throbs, and I slide my hand under the water and inside my bottoms.

I breathe hard. Shit. God, I want…

I want…

He squeezes me, pulling me hard against his wet chest, and he doesn’t talk. This is a secret.

My nipples pebble, the hard, little points poking through my swimsuit top, and I rub my middle finger over my clit in small, slow circles. Gripping the rock by my head, I imagine him at my back, and I shake my head, trying to picture anyone else.

It could be anyone.

But it’s the same hard, sun-kissed body pressing into me, his rough fingers against my soft flesh, and I’m so wet and hot, and so…

Empty.

I rub faster, gasping and whimpering, all alone in the cave, but I need something more. Something I can’t give myself.

Something solid inside me and my mouth on him and his eyes looking down at a body he wants to touch but can’t and taking me in his possessive hands with his lustful eyes and making my heart pound in my chest.

He hates my father but wants me.

My clit pulses as I feel the orgasm crest, and I want him to make me scream and come and feel everything I’m tired of not feeling. I want to be breathless.

Fuck me.

Fuck me.

“No!” someone suddenly shouts. “Stop!”

I pop my eyes open, pulling my hand out of my bottoms. The pulse between my thighs rages as the orgasm aches and fades away.

“No, I said…” But her voice lowers to a mumble, and I dart my eyes around, looking for anyone.

Who is that?

God, if anyone saw…

I twist my neck, taking in the empty cavern and no other bodies in the pool or by the waterfall.

“Ugh!” a woman cries out, and I hear a shuffle as I back away.

No one else was on the beach when we came, and I didn’t notice anyone else show up. Who…?

But just as I push myself back in the water, getting ready to bolt, a figure emerges from the darkness, and I freeze as a young woman steps out of some tunnel or adjoining cave.

She sees me and stops.

Cici Diggins. The woman from the pharmacy who was a little too interested in who I was. She must’ve arrived while I was fishing. She wears a blue bikini, her long, dark hair wet and spilling around her, and I spot a trickle of blood coming out of one of her nostrils.

I narrow my eyes. Why is she bleed—

She walks past me, above on the ledge, and dives back into the water, disappearing beyond the waterfall.

What the hell? Who hit her?

Just then, I hear pebbles shuffle, and I turn back around in time to see Kaleb walk out of the same tunnel she just came from.

The water shimmers across his dark eyes as they meet mine, and he steps forward, dropping into the water and sinking waist deep, dressed only his jeans.

He stalks toward me, and I back up toward the waterfall, unblinking.

Did he hit her? I scan his face and body, seeing no marks of self-defense.

The room is dark, and it’s just us, his hard eyes zoning in on me the closer he gets, and my heart leaps into my throat.

But then… he just walks right past me. Diving under the waterfall, he disappears, too, and the fear of what I’d been doing to myself under the water with them right in here is thankfully overshadowed by what the hell was just going on in that tunnel.

What was she arguing with him about? He didn’t do that to her, did he?

And how the hell do you argue with someone who doesn’t speak? How does that work?

I head out of the cave, swimming under the water and back out to the middle of the pond. My uncle loads up the truck in the distance, Noah helping him, and I watch the guys working, my cheeks warming at the memory of my fantasy. I never actually put a face to him in the dream, but I know who it was.

It’s okay.

Everyone has thoughts. Everyone touches themselves. A therapist would say I’m seeking an outlet to cope with my troubles. That’s what this is, and better this than drugs or alcohol.

The breeze causes the water to ripple, and I dip my lips in, wetting them as I watch the guys load the truck.

It did feel good, though. The feel of him at my back, his smell around me, the thought of his bed covered in that scent…

“Tiernan, come on!” Noah yells over at me.

I blink, looking up at him. He climbs on his bike.

“They’re having a pop-up race in Gent,” he calls out. “Let’s go!”

A pop-up race?

Kaleb throws his leg over the other bike, while Jake climbs into the truck, and I quickly nod, swimming for shore.

Not sure what a pop-up race is, but it sounds noisy. And crowded.

Two things I typically hate, but maybe Jake isn’t right this time. Maybe a nice, non-familial distraction away from the peak is exactly what I need, after all.

Pretty sure the three best-looking guys in town live under my roof, but we’re going to Gent, is it? Whole new babe pool, as Noah would say.

“What’s a pop-up race?”

Jake glances over at me as he pulls through the crowd and veers toward a clearing on the left.

Green hills rise up on both sides in front of me as the sun slowly slips behind, and the smoke from the bonfire stings my eyes. Firecrackers, remnants from the 4th of July probably, pop in the distance, and I inhale the scent of barbecue.

“A good opportunity to network,” he replies. “It’s almost the off season. It’s just a bunch of racers, vendors, and sponsors getting in some last, good practice and making some money.”

The truck bobs over the terrain of grass and dirt, and he finally hits the brake, putting the truck in Park.

“What will I do here?” I ask him.

“Keep your butt under our tent, that’s what.”

He hops out, and I follow him to the back as he pulls the tailgate down.

I frown but help him start to unload. Noah comes speeding up with Kaleb behind him, and I look away, taking the other end of the pop-up tent for Jake.

How did Cici get a bloody nose? I need to talk to Jake about that. I’m living with Kaleb, and Jake doesn’t know how aggressive he got with me the other night. What if there’s more he doesn’t know?

I look over my shoulder at Kaleb again, his jeans now mostly dry and a black T-shirt on. He pulls off his helmet and hangs it on the handlebar, ignoring the people calling to him and walking over to take a beer from the cooler.

He doesn’t look at me before he turns around and disappears into the crowd.

“Tiernan.”

I turn my attention back to my uncle and continue walking.

It only takes the two of us twenty minutes—no choice, because the boys ran off—before we have all the swag, gear, posters, and display set up. Jake positions the guys’ motorbikes on either end of the table, and I dig out the Bluetooth speaker we had while fishing and sync it to my phone, starting a playlist.

Ratt’s “Nobody Rides for Free” pops on, and he laughs under his breath, tossing me a smile. Fitting, I guess.

Pushing my rolled sleeves up, I grab some decals off the table and stand in front of the tent, handing them out to passersby. Jake glances at me, and I offer a half-smile as he heads over to talk to a couple looking at one of the bikes.

I’m not sure why, but I kind of feel bad that Kaleb and Noah make him fight for every inch of help. I’m not one to take a parent’s side, but Jake going through what he went through to get here and build all this, he deserves a family.

I guess I don’t like seeing him alone in everything.

“I’m gonna go,” Noah says, coming under the tent and grabbing his helmet.

He wears racing gear, black and orange pants and long-sleeved shirt with the number seventy-eight on the front and back. Is he racing?

Seeing me, he pauses and grins. He sets the helmet back down and comes behind me, reaches around my waist, pulls up my shirt, and ties the two flaps high up. He knots it right under my breasts, my stomach bare, and then he winks at me with his cocky blue eyes. I scowl.

“If you bare it, they will come,” he chants. “And by come, I mean—”

I swat at him. Gross.

He just laughs, walking away to grab his helmet, and I touch the knot, trying to loosen it to pull my shirt back down.

But then a guy is suddenly in front of me.

“Hey,” he says, holding out his hand for a complimentary Van der Berg decal.

He smiles, and I twist my lips to the side as I hand him one.

Oooookay.

“Don’t talk to any sponsors,” I hear my uncle order.

I turn to see Noah stuff something into his mouth from the cooler and walk away.

“I might if I win,” he mumbles over his food.

“If the bike wins,” Jake retorts, “be sure everyone knows who made it.”

A few more people pass by me, pausing to take a decal.

Noah charges past, out of the tent, and I hear the announcer come over the loudspeaker, sounding like the microphone is stuffed halfway down his throat.

Engines rev, and the crowd rushes up the hill for a better view, I assume. I glance over my shoulder, my uncle seated on a chair with his face buried in the engine—or the carburetor or whatever it is—trying to act like that bolt actually needs to be tightened.

“You won’t watch?” I ask.

He doesn’t answer, and I clench the decals in both my hands as I stare back out at the crowd. The dirt track runs past here, but the starting line is out of my view. Stars dot the midnight blue sky, and the glow from the stadium lights over the hill pulls at me.

Is Kaleb watching him? Seems like someone should be.

My legs itch with the need to set off with everyone else, but I stay planted.

The track clears, and the announcer starts shouting over the loudspeaker. I know races usually start with a gate drop, but I’m not sure if I’m supposed to hear a shot fired or something, too.

After a moment, though, the crowd up on the hill starts cheering and moving around, and I know it’s started. The direction of their gaze changes, and I steel my spine and bob a little, desperate to see what’s happening.

I throw a look at my uncle, searching for any reaction, but he’s deep in concentration as if that rear tire is the most important thing in the world.

Someone should be watching Noah.

Inching forward, I gauge the crowd on the hill, watching their bodies slowly moving to the left as their eyes follow the racers, and I shoot my gaze in that direction just in time to see a pack of dirt bikes racing around the bend. Dust kicks up on the track, their whirring getting louder the closer they get, and I step forward, watching them disappear behind a jump and quickly reappear, flying through the air before they disappear back down again.

The ground vibrates under my feet, the noise of the crowd and the machines pulsing against my body, and I smile, shooting up on my tiptoes to look for Noah.

Bikes zoom past, my stomach dropping to my feet as I tip my head back, seeing Noah catch air, his body in his orange and black pants and shirt leaning stick-rod straight over his handlebars before he comes down again. I laugh, my hand shooting to my head as I watch him race past in his helmet.

I have a sudden urge to cup my hands around my mouth and cheer him on.

But I stop midway and clap instead. He looks so good.

He looks incredible. And he’s in first place.

The same green bike I saw at the Van der Berg house a couple days ago trails, and I guess that’s Terrance Holcomb.

Jerking my smile around, I see my uncle still engrossed in his work. How can he not watch this?

Envy paralyzes me. Noah looks like he’s having so much fun.

But I can’t stop myself anymore. Quickly, before Jake has a chance to stop me, I scurry over the dirt track after the bikes have passed and run up the green hill.

I look around, seeing if Kaleb is anywhere close, but I don’t spot him.

Joining the crowd at the top, I squeeze between two people in time to look down and see Noah speeding for the finish line head to head with Holcomb.

He revs his engine, popping up on the rear wheel, and races over the finish line, just moments ahead of everyone else as he lands on both wheels again.

The announcer’s voice booms, cheers go off, and I see Noah shoot his fist in the air.

I clap softly, my heart racing too hard to do more. Good for him.

I’m kind of jealous he’s so good at something like this. I’ve never been good at anything.

Spinning around, I head back to the tent, the spectators dispersing and the music starting up again.

Jake still busies himself working on something I’m sure is fine already, and I head over to the food stand next to our tent, grabbing some nachos and cheese.

Taking a small bite, I approach my uncle. “Would you like some?”

He meets my eyes but doesn’t look to see what I have. “No, thank you.”

I watch him as I dip another chip in and out of the cheese. “He’s really good,” I tell him.

He simply nods, going back to his work.

I narrow my eyes. Jake isn’t like my father.

But he is.

Hannes wouldn’t have watched me, because he wouldn’t have cared. Jake refuses to support Noah in this. Why?

Walking over, I’m about to set my food down and go back to handing out decals, but a crowd heads our way, people swarming Noah. I watch as he pulls off his shirt and throws it on our table, tossing me a cocky smile as he grabs my nachos away from me. He swipes up some cheese, dabs it on my nose, and then dives in, sucking it off as I growl.

“Noah,” I chide, squirming away, but he just laughs.

I was going to congratulate you. Never mind. I wipe the cheese and his spit off my nose.

Stealing my chips, he walks over to his father. “You know, I can be a lot more use to Van der Berg Extreme if I’m on TV.”

“Yeah, and then what?” Jake looks up at his son. “What do you think you’re going to do after your fifteen minutes are up or an injury sends you home in a wheelchair?”

Noah scoffs, shaking his head. “Were you even watching?” he says. “I won! I beat them all. I’m good, and I love it.”

“Motocross racing—”

“Isn’t a career,” Noah finished snidely, sounding like he’d had this conversation a hundred times already. “And keeping us chained up on the peak isn’t a life. You should deal with that.”

He spins around, shoving my nachos back at me, and stalks off again, circling the waist of some young woman, both of them disappearing into the crowd.

I risk a glance at Jake, seeing his jaw flex as he yanks the socket wrench counter-clockwise like it’s his kid’s mouth he’s tightening shut instead of a bolt.

So that’s it.

It isn’t hard to see what Jake loves and values about living his life on his terms, away from the horror of our family.

But Noah’s hungry for something else. He’s not lazy, careless, or uninspired. He’s unhappy.

Setting down my tray, I walk up and lean on the table where Jake works.

“Is he right?” I ask, hearing the man on the loudspeaker announce another race. “Are you hiding up here?”

He tosses me a look and then rises to reach around the machine, fiddling with something.

“Pull your shirt down,” he grumbles.

I arch an eyebrow, fighting to hold back a smile.

He tosses the tool and leans down on the table, letting out a sigh.

“Goddamn kids…” He shakes his head.

He looks over at me, giving me a sad smile. He might not want Noah to be hurt like he was, but if Jake knows anything, it’s that our parents don’t always know what’s best. I mean, who’s to say Flora would’ve been a happily-ever-after for him?

But he would’ve ran with her anyway, because we want what we want. Noah will do the same.

“Hey,” someone says.

I turn and see Cici Diggins walking into the tent with her hands in her jean pockets as she eyes me.

I still. Neither of our interactions have been particularly pleasant. What does she want?

My uncle moves away, off to dig in the truck bed for something, and I look back at Cici, her nose showing no sign that it was bleeding earlier today.

“Hi,” I finally answer.

She holds her hand out. “Cici.”

We shake. “Tiernan.”

I guess we haven’t been properly introduced.

“Are you okay?” I gesture to her nose.

But she just breathes out a laugh. “I’m the only one who hurts me.”

I release her hand, not sure what that means.

I glance over my shoulder. Jake opens the truck door, digging in the glove box for something.

“So, you wanna dance?”

I jerk back around, looking at her. What?

People move around the bonfire, the song drifting out of the big speakers propped up in truck beds around the lot. But the song is slow. They’re all close.

I shake my head. “No.”

But she just grabs my hand anyway and drags me over to the bonfire. I stumble to keep up, trying to pull out of her hand.

“Hey, stop,” I bark.

I don’t dance well.

Turning around, she takes my waist and pulls me in, and I shove her off, but she’s too quick. She grabs the knot my shirt is tied in and jerks me into her, my damn neck nearly getting whiplash.

I bare my teeth, feeling my stomach rub against hers where her white tank has ridden up.

“It’s okay.” She smirks down at me. “I know you’re straight.”

She moves, swaying her hips and grinding on me a little, and my heart is pounding out of my damn chest as my feet shift to keep myself from falling.

“Yeah, how do you know?”

“You’re saying there’s a chance you’re not?” she asks, teasing me.

I roll my eyes.

“You shouldn’t be,” she says. “I’m a lot safer than a guy. At least, I can’t get you pregnant.”

I can’t help it. A laugh escapes, and I relax a little.

But not too much.

“Why don’t you cut the act?” I tell her. “You’re doing this to get Kaleb’s attention.”

A little girl-on-girl action, which he’ll certainly notice, because she’s trying it with someone who lives in his house.

I take a glance around. He’s probably not even here anyway. I haven’t seen him since he parked his bike. Probably hitched a ride home with someone else.

She drops her hands to my waist and comes in, her nose nearly brushing mine.

I don’t know why, but I stand my ground, unflinching.

“It takes a lot more than this to get his attention,” she threatens in a low voice. “Are you available later?”

I look away, knowing exactly what she’s hinting at.

I shake my head clear. I’m not letting Kaleb pop my cherry in a threesome. I’m not letting Kaleb do anything ever again, in fact.

“You heard the fight in the cave,” she whispers in my ear. “You were eavesdropping.”

Was I?

“You followed us,” she taunts, “because you want him, too. You were jealous.”

I quirk a smile, swaying to the music as I slide my arms up and around her neck.

Enough.

I lean into her ear. “I didn’t even know you were back there,” I whisper. “I was hiding, because I was touching myself in the water.”

She bursts out in a snort, bringing her head up and looking at me, incredulous.

My face flushes, and I’m not sure why I just told her that, but I don’t really care, either. I don’t like games, and I certainly won’t play hers.

“Seriously?” she asks, almost with an impressed look on her face. “Aren’t you kind of famous? I could go on Twitter and tell everyone what you’re telling me now.”

You could anyway. Whether it’s true or not.

Stunts like that won’t get her what she wants anyway. I’m not in her way.

“People do what they want.” I squeeze her hips, dancing. “So I don’t care. About anything. Your behavior is none of my business.”

Then, I flash my gaze over her shoulder and see him.

Kaleb.

He stands in the distance, beyond the crowd—alone—and leaning against a tree trunk. He stares at me as he raises a bottle of beer to his lips and takes a drink, and I swallow the lump in my throat.

And despite the knot coiling in my stomach every time he looks at me, my heart pumps hot blood through my body, filling me with the promise of anticipation.

The promise of something about to happen.

I can’t stop myself. “And in a few weeks,” I tell her, “I won’t even know what’s happening online anyway, because I’ll be locked away on the peak for months and months…” I pause and then continue for added effect, “and months.”

With him, I don’t say out loud, but the words hang in the air.

I want it to sound like a threat, even if it’s an empty one. She doesn’t need to know Kaleb scares me or treats me worse than the animals he hunts. At least they’re of value to him.

Rising back up, I look her in the eye, knowing that from November through April, I’ll have the upper hand. If I wanted it. Do you really want to piss me off?

“I dare you,” she threatens.

“I’m not sure I’ll have to do anything.”

And I dart my eyes behind her, gesturing to Kaleb’s dark greens that hold us in a trance like there’s no one or nothing else at the party. She follows my gaze, seeing him watching us, and even though my threat is baseless, my last sentence isn’t.

He came after me once already, after all.

Suddenly, a hand grips my upper arm and yanks me, and I suck in a breath, looking up at my uncle.

“Everything with a dick is watching you two,” Jake growls, looking down at me.

Watching? Huh?

It takes a moment, but I start moving my eyes around the bonfire, seeing people looking at Cici and me, especially a few groups of guys on the outskirts of the circle grinning and whispering to each other.

I glare up at him, working my arm free. “Would you have stopped us if I were dancing with a guy?”

“If you had been dancing with a man like that in public, I would’ve taken you over my knee.”

He casts a quick look at Cici and then back down to me. “We’re going home.”

Taking my hand, he pulls me along, back toward the tent.

What the hell? I might care if I do something that reflects poorly on him, but I wasn’t doing anything wrong. So a few guys got their rocks off watching a couple of girls dancing. I honestly wasn’t even trying to dance well, so caught up in our conversation as I was.

He pushes through the crowd, and my wrist burns. I pull away, yanking free, and stomp past him toward the truck. Opening the back door, I climb in behind the driver’s seat and slam the door.

They can pack up the tent themselves.

I shake my head.

That’s the second time I’ve gotten yelled at for drawing attention I didn’t ask for. This possessive obsession with protecting my innocence is ridiculous. Just because they’re “experienced” doesn’t mean they’re any more mature or wise. I would even debate they’re less so. That’s been pretty clear since I arrived.

The truck shakes and rocks as he and Noah pack the tent, table, chairs, and other gear in the back, and I look out the window, seeing some guy ride off on Noah’s bike with a girl on the back. They look vaguely familiar—maybe a friend borrowing his motorcycle.

Laughter goes off outside the truck as the tailgate closes, and I look over, seeing a woman climbing in beside me.

A whiff of her perfume hits me, and she looks up, smiling at me as she closes the door.

“Hi.”

“Hey.”

More giggles sound off behind me, and as Jake and Noah hop into the front seat, I close my eyes, my anger so hot I clench my fists.

Perfect. Absolutely perfect. I don’t turn around to see how many are in the truck bed. I just shoot my uncle a glare in the rearview mirror.

He meets my eyes but then looks away as he starts the truck.

Dancing with someone makes me look like a slut, but they can serial screw every night and not see the irony there.

Jake starts the truck, and I have no idea if Kaleb is still at the bonfire or in the bed behind me, but I cross my arms over my chest, too angry to even care.

Music plays on the radio as we speed up the dark highway, climbing the mountain on our way home. A cheer goes off behind me in the night wind, and I hear Noah crack a beer from the passenger seat in front.

So I’m just supposed to listen to all them go at it all night?

“Take me over your knee…” I repeat, looking at Jake’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “I’ve never been spanked in my life.”

He looks up, meeting my gaze. “If you want to be, keep it up.”

The girl next to me shifts in her seat, and the tension in the cab suddenly rises a couple notches.

Asshole.

“You’ll hit me, because I would do things you don’t like?”

“It’s called correction,” he retorts, staring back at the road. “And I’ll do it, because I care about you.”

Noah glances over his shoulder at me and then looks over at his father, whispering, “What’s going on?”

Jake shakes his head once, blowing him off.

“You can’t stop me from being with someone or having sex if I want to,” I inform him. “It’s called a double standard, Jake. You guys get to be with women. Why can’t I enjoy someone’s company?”

“We can be with women, because no one has laid claim to us.”

“No one has laid claim to me.”

“You’re a young woman in my house,” he fires back. “We claim you until you’re old enough.”

“On my birthday?”

He cocks a dark eyebrow at me, but doesn’t reply as he focuses back on the road.

Will I be old enough when I’m eighteen in a matter of weeks? Will he back off then?

Of course not. I’m old enough when he says, because I’m too stupid to keep myself out of trouble.

And whether or not I’m ready for sex is one thing, but intimacy is another. We all want to be special to someone. Family isn’t the same thing. I’d like to meet someone eventually.

“Your logic is flawed, you know?” I tell him, staring at him through the mirror. “If a woman claims you, then she’ll also do for you what other women do. But if you all are claiming me, you’re not doing for me what other men would do.”

Noah spurts beer from his mouth, choking and dripping alcohol everywhere as he looks wide-eyed over at his father and coughs into his hand.

I bite back a smile.

Noah hacks, struggling for breath, and wipes the mess off his lap. Jake stares at me through the rearview mirror.

But he doesn’t reply.

And I’m not the first to look away this time.