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The guy sneers, baring his teeth. “Pip? You’ve got to be kidding me,” he jeers, looking toward me. “Fitting. Fucking pipsqueak.”
“Cut the shit.”
“Or what?” Ace puffs out his chest, trying to look tough, but failing in comparison to the dark-haired god.
“Or I’ll kick your ass. It’s as simple as that.”
“Careful,” Asshat tsks. “Start a fight again, and the cops will come. Doubt your fancy school will keep you on, let alone let you skate…”
The threat hangs in the air. I look back and forth between the two, wondering what that’s all about. Finally, Slate steps forward, anyway. The space between the two is almost gone, and the bully’s back hits the tree.
“If you ever so much as touch her, I don’t care what anyone says, I’ll kick your fucking ass. Pippa is off limits.” Slate’s hand wraps around the guy’s throat, strangling him. “She’s under my protection. You hear me?”
Ace’s face begins to turn blue, and fear courses through me. I can’t make out the words he says, but it’s obvious Slate does, because he removes his hand, stepping away. The kid doesn’t waste time. He dashes off.
What a coward.
I have no idea what that was all about, but I do know that Slate just gave me a gift.
A place to feel safe.
And that place is him.
2
CASSIDY
Eight months later…
Where is he?
I knocked multiple times on his trailer door, but nobody answered. I even peeked into the window to check for him. Nothing. No matter where I search, I can’t find Slate, and that shouldn’t have me panicking like it does.
In the past eight months, he’s made life bearable.
He’s treated me like I was his little sister. Acted like he was my protector.
He made this awful place feel like home.
I slouch onto the worn couch, dust flying into the air and circling me. Huffing, I make a mental note to vacuum this room and pay special attention to this area. I blow out air to move the particles away. My gaze skates across the room and lands on the window.
It’s a nasty day out.
The sky is a dark shade of gray, with clouds forming in the shape of black pillows. I’m just waiting for the clouds to open and the rain to drench the earth. The only downside to that is I’ll be stuck inside, sitting among the dirt.
Something moves in the distance, but it’s probably just a branch swaying with the wind. When it moves again, I narrow my eyes and lean forward, trying to focus on whatever’s out there.
The longer I stare, the more I question whether it’s a tree or a person. The object moves again, and I get a glimpse of a profile.
Someone is walking to the lake.
It’s got to be him.
Aiden Slate is a creature of habit.
Of course. The path that leads to that place. It should have been the first place I looked.
It’s his refuge. His escape. Now that it’s summer, he’d be heading to his tree.
