Page 38 of Endgame

“But he’s a prick,” I added dejectedly.A prick who hates you,a voice in my head hissed.

“He is,” she agreed solemnly. “So, do you think you’d like to hang out some time before school starts?” Molly unfastened her seatbelt and climbed out. “If you want to, that is.” She hovered at the passenger door. “Obviously, you don’t have to, but if you wanted to –”

“Molly, slow down.” I smirked at her bashfulness. “I would love to.”

Her eyes lit up. “You would?”

I nodded. “Have you got a cell?”

“Yes.” Digging her hand into her jeans pocket, she retrieved a shiny iPhone and passed it to me.

“I’m gonna call my number,” I explained as I dialed my own cell and waited for it to vibrate in my pocket before ending the call and handing it back to her. “I’ll text you the next day I’m off work and come pick you up.”

“That sounds awesome!” She bounced excitedly from foot to foot. “And good luck with the whole stepbrother hating on you situation.”

“Thanks,” I muttered, even though I had a feeling I would need a lot more than luck to deal with Rourke Owens. “See you soon.”

Mercedes

WHEN I RETURNED TO Gabe’s house after dropping Molly at home, it was with a fresh perspective and an open mind. Rourke wasn’t the bastard I had thought.

Sure, he was still a bastard, but he hadreasons.

Valid reasons.

Reasons I could relate to.

Reasons I knew could warp a person’s mind.

Reasons that could ruin lives.

No wonder he despised me and mom. I got it.

Truly, I did.

And the attitude Rourke had with his father?

Yep. Got that, too.

Instead of the usual pent up frustration and burning anger I felt when I pulled into the driveway and saw Rourke’s shiny black Chevrolet Silverado, I was filled with…understanding and hope?

Of course, that empathy was watered down with a huge dash of disgust the moment I stepped foot through the door to the sound of T Spoon’s version of Janis Joplin’sMercedes Benzfilling the house.

The music was playing at an obscenely loud volume and it instantly pissed me off. I knew who was responsible for it.

Of course, the clever bastard had screwed around with the song and switched the words ‘Oh Lord’ to ‘Oh Gabe.’

It hurt, but not nearly as much as it pissed me off.

“Rourke!” Slamming the front door closed behind me, I stalked towards the staircase, not stopping until I had climbed the entire flight and was standing outside his bedroom. “Rourke!” Slamming the palm of my hand against the door, I fought down the urge to rip the damn thing off its hinges, stomp in there and kick his stupid, beautiful ass.

Why the hell did Gabe let him get away with this crap?

“Rourke!” I repeated, pounding on his door.

He yanked the door open so quickly that I almost fell forward. “What?”

“Are you playing that on purpose?” I demanded, feeling irrationally furious. “That damn song?”

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