Page 37 of Redemption
“Guess I shouldn’t even ask what your vote was,” I mumble.
There’s no use beating a dead horse, but man, it stings to know that some people will never see the woman I’ve become because they are too busy remembering the girl I was.
Hayes gives a tight shake of his head, meant only for me to see, and I press my lips together, keeping quiet. I know he’s right. I have the job. There’s no reason to stir the pot, but I don’t need him telling me that—or saving me, as he so eloquently put it. So even though I keep my mouth shut, I glare at him, hoping he can feel every inch of anger boiling in my belly.
“Well,” Hayes says, stuffing the cigarette into his pocket, “as fun as this has been, it’s time for me to go. I need to speak with some of the other board members. Tanner, I’ll see you at practice. Eric—stay out of my way.”
Turning back to the door, he gives me a salute, and I lower my voice so that only he can hear me as he walks by.
“Thank you for your support with the board, but just because I got the job doesn’t mean we are friends again. I don’t need you saving me.”
He stops so we are shoulder to shoulder, each facing the opposite way, and when he turns his head, his breath fans across my cheek. There’s a sly smile on his lips and trouble in his eyes when he says, “I wouldn’t dream of it, MJ.”
It’s not his words that send cold chills down my spine, but the way his voice caresses my skin in a tone that saysI’m in trouble—deep, deep trouble.
Chapter 12
Mallorie Jade
I’m late.
It’s the first day of school, two weeks after the board meeting, and I’m already proving the ones who voted against me right.
My alarm didn’t go off, and now I’m scrambling to make it before the first bell. Between living at home, having the town looking over my shoulder, and being late to school, it feels like my teenage years all over again.
Running down the stairs of my childhood home, my steps falter when I see my mom standing at the bottom with her arms crossed and impatience written on her face.
I have to get my own place.
“Mom,” I greet once I’m standing on the bottom floor in front of her.
“You’re cutting it close,” She says, glancing at the dainty, expensive wristwatch.
“Yup, so I better not stick around to talk. See you. Love you. Bye.” My words are rushed as I slip around her and out the front door, and just as it’s about to click shut, I hear a whispered “good luck” come from the other side.
The time mocking me on my phone says I don’t have time to stop and analyze those whispered words, no matter how much I want to revel in them. I throw my backpack full of stuff intomy passenger seat and speed out of the driveway like my life depends on it.
As my decisions always seem to go, though, it’s a bad one. I’m two minutes from the school when I see red and blue lights flashing in my rearview mirror.
Groaning, I slow down and pull to a stop on the shoulder of the road. I’ve never been in so much trouble with the police in my life—except for that one time—and really, that’s saying something because I was pretty ornery growing up. I liked to find trouble, or better yet, trouble liked to find me.
While I wait for the officer to approach my car, I busy myself with finding my license and registration. When I hear the knock on my window, I lean up and turn to face the officer.
The day gets exponentially worse when I realize it’s Hayes standing there, dressed in his police uniform and looking hot as sin. He can’t even have the decency to have the bags under his eyes that I have from losing sleep since the last time we were in each other’s presence. I wonder if he’s been thinking about Tanner as much as I have. The boy has been on my mind every day since I left. Maybe it’s my guilt over all the ways I failed Langston, but I can’t help but wonder if that sad look in Tanner’s eyes is a cry for help—and if it is, does he have anyone who will notice? His stepdad didn’t seem to.
Rolling down my window, I glare at the man who is bound and determined to get under my skin.
“I feel like you just sit and wait for my car to come by,” I grumble as I hand my license and registration over to him.
There’s a smirk on his face as he makes a show out of looking it over.
“Ma’am, do you have any weapons in the car?”
My fist tighten on the steering wheel. “Only my fist, Hayes Miller.”
That smirk grows wider, and then he says, “Wait here, ma’am.”
He saunters back to his car, and I watch him in my side mirror, gritting my teeth. He’s like a thorn in my side, digging deeper every time I see him.
