Page 2 of No Saint
Just as I flipped the lid off the other canister, a shadow fell over me.
“What are you setting fire to now, pyro?”
My stomach bottomed out at the sound of that deep, achingly familiar voice. A voice I hadn’t heard for a year and a half.
By design, I hadn’t spoken to, or come face-to-face with, Wolf Brookes since we’d broken up—a miracle considering we came from the same hometown, went to the same college, and that he was best friends with Monroe’s fiancé.
My heart clenched in my chest, reminding me of its old wounds. Compared to those scars, Brent’s betrayal was nothing more than a scratch. A scratch Wolf was apparently there to rub salt into.
“Nothing,” Monroe said, her gaze briefly darting to me before it went back to Wolf.
I hated that she still worried about me being around him after all this time. That she knew I was so weak. Bracing my fragile heart, I turned toward the tall, dark, tattooed apparition of past regrets.
I took in his messy, dark hair, those deep-blue eyes that always seemed to see too much, and the dimple that sank into his cheek—when he smiled, another one mirrored it on the other side. I hadn’t seen him up close since the day I’d asked him for a break. Was it too much to hope that he’d magically become ugly? Or lost the ridiculous amount of muscle that had somehow, against the laws of physics, grown bigger? The material of the faded band T-shirt he’d had since high school was stretched so tight across his chest, it looked like it would rip open at any second. Wolf Brookes was still the most gorgeous guy I’d ever seen, and I despised myself for thinking it. I’d always thought that my attraction to him had been more than skin deep, that we’d had this connection… But there I was, hating him while wanting him. I was no better than the airheaded girls who’d always fawned over him.
“Come on.” He nodded toward the tanks at our feet. “What are you torching, Monroe?” Talking to her like I wasn’t even there. As though I were as inconsequential as I wished he could be to me.
“Nothing. Jade’s Jeep ran out of gas.”
My spine tensed when she mentioned my name. I didn’t want him to look at me.
His massive arms crossed his even more massive chest, and he flashed her a disbelieving smile. “Bullshit.”
“Fine.” The pump in Monroe’s hand clicked, and she put it back. “We’re torching a car. Happy?”
Glaring at her, I capped the canisters. The last thing I wanted was Wolf knowing my business.
When I went to lift the heavy tank, I swear my back popped right before it dropped to the ground with a clang.
“Women…” Wolf reached for the tank at my feet, his rough fingers brushing mine when he picked it up. I hated that he acted like I didn’t exist, even though I’d spent over a year doing the exact same thing to him.
When he turned away from me without a backward glance, that sense of worthlessness I’d been feeling since Brent’s actions last night grew, breaking through the bedrock I’d laid on top of my buried emotions. Fuck Brent. And fuck Wolf.
I glared after him as he bicep curled both tanks into Cassie’s open trunk. His sleeves strained beneath his stupid, muscular arms, and I wanted to shout at him, “Just buy a bigger shirt!”
Instead, I went to the rear door of Cassie’s car and got in. I’d rather sit in a sweatbox than give Wolf any more space in my mind.
“It was good to see you, Wolf,” Monroe called, before ducking into the passenger seat.
I clicked my seatbelt into place, then crossed my arms over my chest. “It was good to see you, Wolf,” I said in a high-pitched voice that sounded nothing like Monroe.
I was one hundred percent being petty. Monroe and Wolf had been neighbors their whole lives, but surely she was violating some kind of girl code.
Monroe turned in the seat. One red brow lifted. “Really?”
“Yes, really.”
“Mature.” She faced the front again just as Cassie opened the door and slid behind the wheel.
Cassie’s gaze darted from me in the back seat to Monroe beside her. “Was that Wolf Brookes I just saw?”
“Yeah, he was just saying, ‘Hi,’” Monroe said.
Or coming to gloat. I was sure he’d heard about my attempted murder of Brent. If not, it was convenient timing.
When Wolf’s old silver Chevy pickup reversed out of a spot across the lot, I noticed Bellamy, one of Wolf’s friends from back home, sitting in the driver’s seat. They were probably up to some bullshit. Stealing or dealing, like they always had. I’d heard Wolf was back into that stuff.
“Well, hecan fuck off.” Cassie cranked the engine. At least someone had my back.
