“Yes, I got her a couple of weeks ago.” I brush my hand down her black mane. “Dean, meet Nightmare.”
“You named your horse Nightmare?” His eyebrow hitches.
“Felt like her.”
Dean laughs. “Whatever you say, Willa Elliott. It’s fitting. You riding around on a nightmare. I always knew you were secretly nothing but trouble.”
“Says the guy getting dropped off a half mile from your ranch.” I hitch an eyebrow, hopping off my horse and walking beside her. “Why did you have them drop you off here?”
“So I don’t have to explain where my car is.”
“Where is it?”
“The impound lot.”
My eyes widen. “How did that happen?”
Dean drops his chin, but it doesn’t hide his grin. “I might have gotten arrested last night.”
“Dean Graham!” I storm over, smacking him on the arm, and he laughs. “What did you do?”
“Camden and I filled the principal’s car with horse shit. We almost got away, but that dude runs too fucking slow. So I stopped and let them catch me.”
“Why not just let them get him?”
“He’s got a scholarship. A family that expects things out of him. Figured it was better I take the fall than let them fuck up his future over a stupid prank. Besides, it was my idea.”
“Of course it was.” I roll my eyes. “Why’d you do it?”
“Got bored.” Dean shrugs, tucking his hands into his pockets.
Since I moved here, Dean Graham hasn’t been a stranger to getting into trouble. But it’s gotten worse the sicker his mom gets. What started as a joke around town, with everyone referring to him as Chaos, is slowly becoming a reality. I’d like to talk to him about why that is, but I know he’d just shut me down like he always does.
“You’re such a troublemaker.” I cross my arms over my chest.
Dean steps close, tucking my hair behind my ear. “You know you like it.”
I wish he were wrong. But more than that, I wish he’d face what’s making him spiral before it gets him into real trouble someday.
9
Willa
All around is aperfectly kept line of houses. Flowers hang in the windows, and the doors are painted in bright colors. The only thing missing is birds chirping. If not for the distant hum of motorcycles, I’d think I stepped into a fairytale.
“I feel like I’m standing in an alternate reality,” I say to Aimee, glancing around. “It doesn’t even feel like part of the compound.”
She rings Tempe’s doorbell and steps back. “It’s nice, right? Most of the guys with families have them live here for safety reasons. It’s a way to keep them nearby but not so close that they’re subjected to the craziness of the clubhouse at night.”
Given what I saw at the party last night, it makes sense that they wouldn’t want children surrounded by that.
The door swings open, and a boy around six answers.
His smile immediately falls to a frown. “Oh.”
Tempe walks up behind him with one hand on her belly. The other she places on the little boy’s head, tussling his hair.
“Is that any way to answer the door, Austin?” She laughs. “Sorry, he’s waiting for Reagan to bring Bea over to play.”
