“Sure.” Hudson bumped a hip up against his car. “Ancient history.”
“Why’d they break up?”
“Look,” said Hudson, “you seem to have this lollipop and sugarplum vision of Vivienne in your head, so I’m going to try and say this as nicely as I can: Vivienne Farrow does whatever feels right for Vivienne Farrow. Everyone else is collateral damage. The night of prom, Reed found her cheating on him with some douchebag at her own after-party.”
“That’s rough,” said Colton.
Hudson’s smile was thin. “Isn’t it just?”
“Who was it?” asked Thomas.
“Who was who?”
“The douchebag at the after-party.”
“Jesus, you’re relentless.” Hudson scrubbed at a speck on his car with the pad of his thumb. “I honestly don’t know. Gray something? He was older. Like, statutory older.”
Something bitter swam into Thomas’s stomach. “Jesse Grayson.”
“Sure,” said Hudson. “That sounds right. Like I said, it’s ancient history.”
A second car turned into the driveway just then, suspension rattling. Thomas spotted Reed Connolly behind the wheel of a battered Jeep, heavy metal pulsing out from the open windows.
“Who isthat?” asked Delaney, just as Hudson muttered, “Oh shit.”
With what he felt was an impressive amount of calm, Thomas handed the leashes over to Eric. “Hold these, please.”
“Walsh,” warned Colton, but Thomas was already moving. He headed for the Jeep at a thunderous walk, his anger burning through him like acid.
His approach jolted Reed into motion. He reached for the gearshift, throwing the engine into reverse. The horseshoe shape of the driveway made it so he couldn’t back straight out onto the street without considerable braking, and Thomas took advantage of the delay to swing himself over the nearest hedge and into the drive.
Landing with a grunt, he planted himself directly behind the Jeep just as it began to pick up speed. The vehicle screeched to a halt inches from his chest. The driver’s side door flew open, and Reed climbed out, looking more unruffled than he had any right to look.
“You look good, Walsh,” he said. “The busted-up vibe is working for you.”
“Where is she?”
Reed didn’t answer. “You want to hit me? Want to even the scales? Get it out of your system?” He jutted out his jaw, giving Thomas a prime target. “Go ahead. Take a shot. Make it a good one.”
And Thomas did.
•••
Ten minutes and multiple interventions later, the five of them gathered in the Turners’ kitchen. Reed sat on a countertop, a bloodied napkin pinched along the bridge of his nose.
“Who the hell taught you to fight,” he muttered darkly, “a mountain gorilla?”
“It’s not broken,” said Delaney, who’d spent the past several minutes playing the part of both mediator and nurse. She slid an admonishing gaze toward Thomas. “So at least there’s that.”
“I must not have hit him hard enough,” said Thomas flatly. He leaned back against the fridge, keeping Reed in his line of sight. “You’re going to talk. Skip nothing. You can start with—”
“Holyshit,” said Reed, cutting him off.
Every eye in the room followed his gaze toward Colton, who stood stuffed in the corner, Vivienne’s dogs perched at his feet like a two-headed Cerberus. At Reed’s surprise, his mouth tipped into a scowl.
“Have we met?”
“No.” Reed touched the back of his hand to his nose. “It’s just your face. No offense, but your mouth looks like someone carved it open with a knife.”
