Page 44 of Endgame

Rourke nodded once. “All good now.”

“Okay,” I squeezed out, forcing myself to hold back the emotions bubbling up inside. “Good.”

I stood there on the street looking at my stepbrother for an abnormally long time before exhaling a huge sigh of relief.

Mom was okay.

This was good.

“What’s her problem?” the girl Rourke had been leaning against asked with a pout. “Why’s she looking at you like that?”

“I’m right here, precious,” I snapped, glaring at the blonde. “You talk about me then talktome.”

“Fine,” the blonde hissed. “What’syourproblem?”

“My problem?” I repeated, mulling over the word like I had to think about it. I didn’t. My problem was this fucked up family I had been roped into. My problem was the fact that my mother was pregnant and I was scared to death of what happened next. My problem was the fact that she had her fingers hooked in the loopholes of Rourke’s jeans. And my biggest fucking problem was the fact that I cared so damn much.

Refusing to embarrass myself further, I knew I would if I opened my mouth, I walked around them and continued down the sidewalk in the direction of Gabe’s house.

This sucked.

My life sucked.

Ocean Bay sucked.

I wanted to go home… if only I knew where that was.

I had passed my fourteenth street lamp and the last on the street when the sound of an engine revving behind me filled my ears. I didn’t have to look behind me to know who the owner was. Rourke.

I had no plans on stopping. Knowing Rourke, he would offer me a ride and then drive off the moment I accepted. And besides, I didn’t want to have to share a car with the blonde he’d been heavily petting.

“Where’s your car?” Rourke called out, lowering the car window.

I didn’t answer.

“Six?”

Nope. I wasn’t answering him.

“Do you need a ride?”

For some inconceivable reason, my chest had constricted and I could feel the burning sensation in my eyes. Why the hell was I about to cry? What the fuck was wrong with me? Rourke was offering me a ride home and I was two seconds away from crying?

“Get in, Six.”

I shook my head and concentrated on the long stretch of road ahead of me.

“Get the fuck in my truck, Six.”

“Why the hell are you offering me a ride?” I snarled, unsure of why I was so suddenly and furiously upset with him. “You don’t even like me.”

“Maybe so, but that doesn’t mean I want to see you get raped,” he shot back flatly. “Young, female, and walking all alone at night? Not fucking smart, Six.”

He was right. I reluctantly had to acknowledge the bastard was right. “Fine.”

I stopped in my tracks and turned to stare at him, expecting to see a smug looking blonde in the passenger seat, but that’s not what greeted me.

He was alone.

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