Page 40 of Too Safe

Go Crusaders.

“Cap,” I reply curtly with a mock-salute. “Want to go down to the beach?” I ask Hunter, desperate to put some distance between myself and my captor.

Another voice slices through the thick night air with that sweet, familiar gravel.

“Joey. Can we talk?”

Locke is leaning against the far end of the deck. He has one forearm resting against the banister, and the thumb on his other hand traces his lip. He played well today. I won’t deny that he looked good in that uniform either. And after his peace offering this morning, maybe I do owe him a conversation.

I don’t have time to consider it for more than a second, though.

“Don’t you think you’ve done enough, Lockewood? Rumor has it you had absolutely nothing to say on Thursday night.” Hunter plants her hands on her hips as she comes to my defense. At least that’s what she thinks she’s doing.

Panic zings through my extremities when Decker sits up straighter in my periphery.

“Girl, it’s fine.” I place one hand on her arm, gently trying to talk her down. With more urgency, I give Locke a pointed look, then quickly turn to Decker.

Even through the darkness, the intensity of his glare is like zaps of electricity coursing between us.

I shake my head twice in a subtle movement, desperate to get through to him before he can make a scene or drag her into my mess.

Hunter’s just being a good friend. I ranted to her about the strange reaction from Locke and Kendrick on my drive home on Thursday night. She has no idea what has transpired since then.

Tense seconds tick by as my heart rate skyrockets. Pulling in a breath through my nose and letting it out through my mouth, I try to steady my breathing, focusing all my energy on silently pleading with the guys to let it go. Decker eventually peers over at Locke, then looks back at me and tips his chin.

He sinks into the sectional again and pulls a cheerleader onto his lap, essentially dismissing me.

But before we can make our escape, he speaks again. “Your brother won his game.”

I frown in confusion. Before I can question him, Hunter replies.

“He’s mystepbrother,” she corrects sharply. “And yeah. They won. 35-14.”

Decker chuckles, a deep, melodious laugh that makes my belly clench.

“Tell him congrats. I’m looking forward to beating a worthy opponent this year.” And with that, he adds, “You can go now.”

I’d be pissed about being so blatantly disregarded if I wasn’t grateful for the excuse to flee.

“Joey…” Locke tries again.

“Come on,” I urge, pulling Hunter toward the stairs that lead to the lower deck and eventually the beach.

Peering over my shoulder, I find Locke’s gaze still on me, so I mouth “later” as we retreat. I swear there’s the tiniest glint in his eye—a flicker of hope that reminds me of just how into him I was only a few days ago. Our eye contact is abruptly cut off when a cheerleader cuts in front of him and runs her nails along the front of his T-shirt, pawing at his chest.

I resist rolling my eyes as I pick up the pace, Hunter hot on my heels.

The beach is much more crowded than I thought it would be. Not only that, but it seems like everyone’s heading toward the dock. Almost as if the party is winding down already.

“What time is it?” I ask since Hunter already has her phone in hand.

“Few minutes ’til ten, but a big storm’s about to hit.” She turns her phone toward me so I can see the screen.

I shudder despite the humidity and survey the radar she has pulled up. The entire screen is green, punctuated with dots of yellow, orange, and red to indicate the storms.

“What time is it supposed to start?”

“Now.”

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