A grin threatened. I let it live half a second and killed it. Work first.
I looked back toward the pier. Two figures came off the boards, their heads bent, pace matched. Chase’s hands stayed open, empty.
We had a plan. Not clean. Never would be. But it would hold if we did.
“Unbreakable,” I muttered to the SUV, to the wind, to the morning. “It’s time to remind the school what we are.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
MILA
Avery leaned close, her voice still rough from the hospital Friday night and the little sleep she’d managed over the weekend before showing up at my house this morning. “Jax came by before sunrise. Said he couldn’t wait for school.” Her cheeks held no color, eyes shadowed, but the tremor in her smile betrayed a pulse of excitement. “He asked how I felt about people knowing. Us. He said he’s all in.”
The words tumbled out faster after that, a breathless rush she couldn’t quite contain. “He brought coffee. Said he didn’t want me walking in alone.” Her fingers tightened around the cup, a shaky laugh escaping. “It feels…good, you know? To have him acknowledge there’s something between us, not to hide it from my brother.”
Despite the rush of it all, her voice stayed fragile—her pale, tired frame a sign from only being out of the hospital for four hours—but for a second, she looked lit from the inside, as though dawn had broken early just for her.
“I told Jax I wanted to walk in with you,” she added quickly, as if the admission needed balance. “Not just him. Both of you.”
Something in my chest unknotted at that—her choosing me as much as him—but worry threaded through it. Jax wasn’t half-measure. If he’d decided to go public, he’d burn the whole school down to make it stick—and to make sure no one hurt her. And Avery, standing here pale and trembling, deserved steady, not scorched earth.
I squeezed her hand. “Then we’ll do it your way. Together.”
Her smile flickered again, a small spark of happiness chasing the shadows from her face.
Jax and I stuck to Avery like glue despite her insistence that she was fine. She wasn’t. Her skin was pale, with bruised shadows carved under her eyes, her hands trembling when she lifted her coffee. But she squared her shoulders, and we met the rest of the guys at the curb anyway, chin up, as if daring anyone to tell her she couldn’t.
The moment we walked through the doors of the school, everything felt wrong. The rumor mill had already started grinding before first bell—half-whispered, phone-screen lit speculation about last night. But the guys shut it down in the same efficient, ruthless way they’d handled it for me before. Chase wasn’t here yet, but Theo’s glare was enough to silence whole hallways, and Luke didn’t need more than a look to send heads ducking. Jax didn’t bother speaking. He just moved with Avery’s bag slung over one arm, her tucked against his side—a silent warning in the way his hand never left her back.
They circled the wagons, and this time, I was inside too. Luke had said they would close ranks. He was right.
By lunch, whispers had sputtered out. Phones lowered when we passed. Nobody wanted to be the one caught pushing a lie. Not with the Kings, and definitely not with Jax.
Avery held herself steady through it, stubborn to the bone. She laughed at the right moments, answered when she had to. Only I caught the fade of color in her face by sixth period, theway she clutched her water bottle like it was the only thing holding her upright.
Still, when practice rolled around, she wouldn’t admit defeat. Jax ended it for her—steering her straight to his SUV before she could argue. His expression was set; hers was pinched, but she didn’t fight him. Not really.
That left me alone when I should’ve been home, stuck instead in the world of centerpieces and donor lists. Another fundraiser meeting for the gala. Another round of fake smiles.
I arrived early, hoping for a few minutes of silence before the vultures circled. Sunlight slanted through the open windows, carrying in the tang of salt and cut grass from the quad.
Tori was already there, sitting stiff at the end of a table, her phone resting face down as if she didn’t trust herself not to check it. When I stepped inside, she glanced up—face unreadable, eyes lingering a beat too long as she took me in.
“She won’t be here on time.” Tori didn’t bother with hello.
She meant Elise. “Good.” I slid my bag onto the desk and flipped open my notebook, pen tapping against the margin. Tori and I weren’t friends. Maybe not enemies either. Would we be again once she found out Theo was flirting with some brunette at the party last night?
Tori’s stare burned into me. “Tell Theo I need to talk to him.”
I blinked, the request hanging heavy. “Okay… sure. About what?”
Her jaw tightened. “Not your business.”
“And you can just text him…”
She grabbed her phone, thumb flicking across the screen with too much force, and turned her shoulder to me. Conversation over.
The room filled gradually after that, full of people who carried their family names heavier than their backpacks. Pagesof agendas shuffled, and chairs scraped, voices layering too sweet to be real.
