Page 14 of Soul Mates: Hercules Valentine and I
“Is he a friend of yours?”
My mouth is caught open, and tears suddenly pool in my eyes. Max has never inquired about my friends. Confessing the truth to him makes me feel sad for myself. Why didn’t I tell him how lonely my year has been? If anyone could have changed Valentine country to Grove country, it's Max.
“I don’t have any new friends at Dorset Meacham.”
Max’s eyebrows crimp as if he's disturbed by my revelation. “What do you mean by ‘new friends’?”
“Nobody would talk to me because, apparently, the Valentines made it that way.”
He wipes his face with the palms of his hands as he sighs. “I wish you’d said something.”
“I didn’t know until tonight.”
He nods thoughtfully. “Then Hercules Valentine isn’t your friend?”
I grunt, frustrated. “Are you really sussing out how close I am to the ‘enemy’? He saved me. That’s all you need to know.” I’m getting too worked up. My head is running laps, and I’m trying to keep myself sitting and steady.
“Yes, I am. Because, Paisley, the last thing we need is to be indebted to those people.”
His tone is biting, and the shock of it renders me speechless. Max isn’t the sunniest person on the planet, but he has affected a sort of even-tempered persona. Even when he’s angry, he’s very calm and in control.
“‘Those people,’ Max? Really?”
He stares. His steely gaze focuses on nothing at all. However, hate is evident in his eyes.
“What do you know about the Valentines that I don’t know?” I ask.
Max continues glaring straight ahead.
I roll my eyes, feeling dizzy and very bitter. “I don’t understand why there’s a silly feud between our families, anyway. We’re successful. They’re successful. What’s the problem?”
“There’s nothing silly about it.” When he faces me, I inhale sharply at the blazing hatred in his eyes.
“What did they do?”
His lips press into a hard line until he says, “Now isn’t the time to tell you. But one day, I will.”
I shake my head defiantly. “You will one day? What’s going on, Max? I’m not a kid anymore. And I’m not your average teenager.” I slap myself on the chest. “I’m the one who developed Killer Firewall, remember? I have a stake in adult business too.” I’m shaking, and I’m afraid my anger isn’t the only reason why.
Max pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes. He does that when someone like me pushes him to the brink and he needs a few seconds to reset. But I’m dizzy, and I don’t want to let him know, because then our conversation will be over, and I won’t learn anything about our feud with the Valentines. As it stands, I might learn something soon—even if he’s only willing to give me a morsel of what I’m seeking.
But why am I dizzy? Why in the hell am I so dizzy?
“I’m not minimizing your value to our family, Paisley,” he says with carefully crafted restraint. “I can say this—if you think it’s bad, then you’d be right. And if you’re guessing that we’re the ones who received the bitter end of the stick, then you’d be right too.”
It’s getting harder to keep my composure. My brain is foggy. I’m trying to piece together what he just said.
“Bitter end of the stick?” I think I’m slurring.
“Paisley?” He says something else, but I can barely hear him. It’s as if he’s at the other of end of a long street, shouting at me from a distance. “We’re almost there…Paisley?”
I’m flailing.
“Stay awake. You can do it. Fight.”
My head falls on Max’s shoulder, and I lose consciousness.
Chapter Seven
