Page 61 of Forged in Rain

“You tell her you’re not coming back,” Bastion says simply.

“And my stuff?”

“What do you need?” Cyn asks.

“My clothes, at least.”

“We can get you clothes,” Jig says, and I stare at him mutinously.

“Trust me, I’ve got plenty of dough,” Jig says.

“I’ll buy her clothes,” Cyn says, his jaw ticking.

“I don’t . . . Nobody . . . Maybe I can just get my clothes,” I struggle to say, my cheeks heating through. “And a job,” I mumble.

From the corner of my eye, I see Cyn shake his head. Whatever. This is weird enough as it is. I can’t imagine living with Jig and refusing to come home. And now they want to buy my clothes? Yeah, no.

“You could wear some of my sister’s clothes. You’re about the same size,” Jig says, and I swing around at the weird inflection in his tone.

“She wouldn’t mind?” I ask, searching his expression.

His eyes flicker with emotion before he says, “No.”

“Oh, um, okay,” I say, shifting uneasily. I sense a story here, but I don’t want to push him—not here with the guys around.

Jig smiles faintly, and I give him a soft one in return before Cyn butts in again. “Let’s roll. We can’t be late to class.”

With that, we head to the car, and I contemplate all the changes happening so quickly. My head is spinning. Not only that, but once again, I’m going to school wearing the same underwear and feeling sticky and gross. Ugh.

Chapter Eleven

Although I’m not truly afraid of the bitches at school, I am wary of getting jumped by so many at once, and as much as I think Cyn believes he’s got it under control, I suspect not. A woman scorned and all that.

Once again, I contemplate dropping out altogether, but I think graduating is the only accomplishment I might actually achieve, even if it feels mundane among the other drama.

I’m also dreading the prospect of seeing Iris. She’s an unknown. But once again, I don’t have many options, and I refuse to look weak.

And then there’s Pam. I’m still blown away by the possibility and struggling to reconcile the kind woman with a supposed criminal enterprise.

Cyn must sense my tension because he grabs my hand and pulls back the fingers clenched around my thumb before curling his own around them.

Shocked, I glance at his face and smile when he looks at me with his brilliant eyes. Dare I say they’re shining at me softly? That’s two in one day. Wow, is the great Cyn showing me he cares?

We exit the SUV together, and to my surprise, the guys flank me, Cyn at my right, Jig at my left, and Bastion behind me. I don’t know what it means beyond the obvious, but I think it’s the final message their minions need because I’m given a wide, respectful berth throughout the morning.

At lunch, I approach with dread because even though I know better than to get my hopes up, I am indeed hopeful that I don’t have to sit through an hour of watching Cyn suck face with another girl.

When I approach, the guys are deep in discussion, and I’m halfway across the room when Iris steps into my path. She looks at me coldly, and I brace myself for whatever is coming, locking my legs and sucking air into my depressed lungs.

Unfortunately, I’ll have to ditch the crutches if it comes down to it, but I’m not unprepared, and I have no intention of backing down. I may not believe in violence, but as I said, I’ve been given the tools to defend myself.

She looks terrible, with bloodshot eyes and her hair wild around her face. Staring at me with cold dark eyes, she says, “I guess I underestimated you.”

“How so?” I mutter, clenching my hand around the crutch. Despite my outward calm, I’m still torn up by her willingness to toss me under the bus for whatever scheme she’s got up her sleeve.

“I thought you would roll over, with your dad’s stupid pacifist shit and all. I guess I was wrong. But know this, Rainy, it will go easier for you if you give in.”

“Give in how?”

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