Rocking Kin (The Lucy & Harris Novella Series Book 3) (15 page)

She wanted to be friends.

Friends.

Civil.

Fuck friends.

Fuck civil.

But hell, it was more than what I had right then. Maybe she would even answer the damn phone when I called her now. So biting back my need to yell at the world that I wanted more than friendship—that I wanted her back in my arms where she belonged—I nodded. “I’d like that, Kin.”

Chapter 12

Kin

Thankfully, Lucy’s hand wasn’t broken, but like Jace had said it probably would have hurt worse if she had. She was in pain, but refused to take anything harder than the ibuprofen that the doctor had suggested she take. She was stubborn, but I knew her reasons. She’d told me what had happened when she was nine, so I understood why she didn’t like touching anything but over-the-counter pain relievers.

The next morning Lucy couldn’t find her phone, but her mother handed Lucy her own and we were out the door. For once the school day passed quickly when all I wanted it to do was drag. I wasn’t in a hurry to get home and face the consequences of skipping out on Georgia the night before. All too soon the last bell rang and while Lucy and I walked out to the student parking lot, I saw Georgia waiting impatiently in her little sports car with Carolina.

Awesome.

I would have rather just gone home with Lucy, but hiding from a difficult situation wasn’t my style. Besides, I needed some fresh clothes that were my own and not the borrowed ones I’d gotten from Lucy that morning.

I hugged my friend as she got into her Range Rover and clenched my jaw as I headed toward the step-bitches. I’d left my guitar at First Bass but Jace had put it up for me the night before. He’d texted me twice the night before and for the first time I hadn’t ignored his messages.

My heart had been heavy as I’d sent him a reply thanking him for taking care of the guitar for me. That guitar was special to me and he knew it. Carter had given it to me when I was ten and it was actually signed by DJ Ashba, my third favorite guitarist behind Drake Stevenson and Wroth Niall.

Goodnight, babe. Hope I see you at the show tomorrow night. Sweet dreams.

That had been Jace’s second text the night before and I’d been half asleep and my heart had been weak when I’d returned his message.

Night. See you then.

Up until then I hadn’t planned on going back to First Bass that week. Seeing him Wednesday nights was hard enough, but going on Thursdays was always harder and I hadn’t been back to see a Tainted Knights show since Jace had played tonsil hockey with a groupie. But now we were supposed to be friends, so I couldn’t let shit like that bother me.

Friends.

I’d asked for friendship.

I must have been high or some shit because I don’t even know why I’d said something so stupid. We’d just been sitting there in a crowded waiting room and the tension between us had been unbearable. I’d caved and told him I was sorry.

Me.

Sorry.

But as the words had left my lips, I’d realized that it was true. I was sorry for acting like a complete bitch to him. It was true that I was proud of him and the other guys. And it was true I was tired of fighting with him so much. Tired period. So, while it would hurt like a death blow to the chest every time I saw him with someone else, I had to move on. Hadn’t I said that I had so many times that I was blue in the face?

Well, now it was time I proved it.

It was actually kind of a relief, not having to worry about seeing him whenever I went to First Bass with Lucy. Maybe now I could add one more friend to my short list, and be able to confide in him like I’d once done a million years ago.

As I climbed into the back of Georgia and Carolina’s car, Georgia shot me a smirk in the review mirror. “Mother wants to talk to you.”

I barely refrained from rolling my eyes as I pulled my cellphone out of my messenger bag. “I bet she does,” I muttered as I swiped my finger over the screen and saw that I had ten text messages waiting on me from Jace.

My heart jumped in my chest but I quickly squelched the excitement. I’d turned my phone on silent that morning and hadn’t even looked at the damn thing all day. Pulling up the messages, I saw that he’d started out with a simple “good morning, beautiful,’ but as the day had gone by he’d gotten more impatient since I hadn’t replied to any of his texts. The last one was all caps, practically shouting at me.

ARE YOU STILL COMING TONIGHT??? I WANT TO SEE YOU! CALL ME!

I shook my head and started to type out a quick text ten seconds before Georgia nearly took out our neighbor’s mailbox—and the neighbor who was standing beside the mailbox going through his stack of mail. My heart still pounding and nausea making me actually taste bile in the back of my throat, I hit send.

Chill out. My phone was on mute. I’ll be there. See you then. Can’t call. Step-monster has to TALK to me.

I ended the message with the eye-rolling emoji and started to put my phone back into my messenger bag, but the screen lit up with a new message instantly.

Can we talk later? Really talk?

My palms grew sweaty and it wasn’t just because Georgia nearly sideswiped her mother’s expensive convertible when she pulled to a jarring stop in the driveway. I wasn’t stupid. I knew what he was asking. When a guy said he wanted to ‘talk,’ it normally meant one of two things: he either wanted to break up with you, or he wanted to put his tongue down your throat—and other places.

Georgia and Carolina got out of the car but I sat there for a few seconds before finally letting my fingers move over the phone’s screen.

Yeah.

That was all I wrote before closing the screen and stuffing the phone deep into the messenger bag. I didn’t know what he would send back.

My heart was still doing summersaults in my chest as I finally got out of the car and slowly walked into Scott’s house. Jillian was waiting impatiently for me by the front door, her Jimmy Choo’s tapping and her hands on her tiny hips as she glared at me.

I wiped my feet on the rug just outside the door, because my mother had taught me to always wipe my feet before entering a house, and gave my step-monster a bored look as I stepped inside. “Hi,” I greeted her, trying to move around her so I could go into the kitchen for a snack before going upstairs to do the little bit of history homework I had.

Jillian moved to block my way. “You aren’t leaving this house tonight without Georgia, do you understand me, McKinley? I’m not going to have you under my roof taking up all the fame for yourself. Take Georgia with you, or I promise you, little girl, you won’t be leaving this house again until you’re eighteen.”

My brows lifted at the ‘little girl’ comment. I was a good six inches taller than this bitch. And her tone? My own mother had never spoken to me in such a condescending way, so having it thrown at me right then rubbed me raw in all the wrong ways. I clenched my hands into fists at my sides, wanting to tear her pretty extensions out of her brainless head and scratch up that perfect face my father must have spent a small fortune on with the best plastic surgeons.

My mother’s voice filling my head, however, had me relaxing enough to calm my rage. I’d been raised by not only a woman who had taught me right from wrong, but a stepdad who had as well. That I should respect my elders, blah-blah-blah. Right then I wanted to ignore all those things that she and Carter had ingrained in me. Why the fuck should I respect someone who didn’t have an ounce of respect for me?

But the chorus of Abagail and Carter’s voices was more powerful than my hatred for the bitch currently standing in front of me. So I relaxed my hands, forced a smile to my lips, and brushed past Jillian. “Sure. Whatever,” I called over my shoulder as I headed into the kitchen. I wouldn’t do anything that would make either of my true parents ashamed of me. At least not yet. But I was seriously reaching my breaking point. “I’m leaving at seven, so tell her to be ready. Marcus will be picking us up.”

Since I didn’t have my own car there, I had to either drive with Georgia or, thankfully, have Marcus pick me up. Both Jesse and Layla Thornton had insisted on it, acting as concerned for my wellbeing as they did their daughter’s.

Knowing that Jace wanted to talk, I took a little extra care with my makeup and what I picked out to wear. I showered, actually dried my hair with the expensive-looking hairdryer that was in my bathroom and even used a few of the products that Jillian kept in there in hopes I would actually ‘do something with that hair’ of mine. I hated admitting it, but the products left my hair feeling softer than ever and shining.

I dressed in my favorite pair of jeans, added knee-high, flat-heeled boots and the black Shinedown T-shirt I’d gotten at Carolina Rebellion the year before. For makeup, I didn’t bother with foundation, just put on a little extra moisturizer and did a smoky eye so my baby-blues popped out a little more. A few swipes of my favorite gloss that had my lips plumping up even more than usual and I was finished.

By the time I went downstairs, Georgia was already waiting by the front door with Jillian. I had to sink my teeth into the inside of my bottom lip to keep from bursting out laughing at what the girl was wearing. Seriously? I honestly couldn’t say if the clothes—if you could call them that—were better or worse than what I’d seen her wearing the night before.

Her hair was teased in an eighties-style kind of way that made me wonder if she was going to have to go to the salon the next day to repair all the damage she’d done to her hair to get it to look—and stay—the way it was right then. Her dress looked more like a camisole nightgown that was so low cut the only part of her cleavage was her nipples. The dress ended a few inches before her ass did, but she had on a pair of black leather shorts that covered her ass. Barely. Fishnet stockings covered her tan legs and she had on huge, clear heels that I was pretty sure her mother had saved from her days as a stripper.

I didn’t know if it was even legal to go out looking like that in any other places than Vegas and New Orleans during Mardi Gras. Would Tiny let us in with Georgia looking like that? I hid a smile as I pictured the big, yummy head of security tossing Georgia out while I went inside to watch Tainted Knights’ show.

“I want the cameras to get you both, so stand as close to Georgia as you can when you get to First Bass,” Jillian instructed as she reached out to fix a few strands of her oldest daughter’s hair that had dared to fall from its constricting, heavily hair-sprayed hairdo.

Definitely a hair-don’t.
I nearly snorted but caught myself just in time.

“Make sure you tell the paparazzi who Georgia is, McKinley. We want them to get her name right when she’s in the tabloids in the morning and on TMZ tomorrow night,” Jillian said, continuing to fuss.

I turned away so she couldn’t see that I was rolling my eyes. “Yeah. Sure. Whatever.”

“I mean it,” Jillian suddenly snapped and grabbed my wrist so hard her nails bit into my skin. She jerked me around and glared up at me. “If I have to put up with you living under this roof, you’re going to do something that can benefit us.”

Respect your elders, Kin. Respect your elders.

I clenched my jaw, counted to ten and forced a smile for the bitch. “I heard you, Jillian. Now let me the fuck go.”

Her eyes widened at the way I’d just spoken to her and her hold tightened even more for a second before she dropped my hand like I was something poisonous. Refusing to rub my now aching wrist, I turned away from her, flipping my hair into her face as I opened the door with my other hand. Glancing outside, I saw Marcus was already waiting and I reached for my coat in the hall closet.

Georgia didn’t even bother with one as she stepped out of the house ahead of me. Dumbass was going to freeze her tits off. Shaking my head at how stupid the girl really was, I headed toward the idling Range Rover. As I neared, Marcus got out to open the back door for me. The only reaction he had to the sight of Georgia was a slight lifting of his brows.

I blew out a frustrated sigh. “I couldn’t get out of it tonight, big guy. Guess I’m stuck with her.”

He gave a single nod and then offered his hand to assist me into the back of the SUV. I lifted my hand to put in his, but remembered how sore it was and dropped it again. “I got this,” I assured him.

Of course he’d seen my hesitation and his suspicious brain had him reaching for the hand I’d just shied away from offering him. I couldn’t help but grimace a little when his big fingers touched my wrist through my coat and his jaw clenched as he carefully pushed up the sleeve to examine my flesh in the dim lighting of the streetlamps.

“Who?” was all he asked as he lifted my hand just enough to inspect the nail marks that had started to welt.

I shrugged and pulled free. “It doesn’t matter. I’m fine.”

His face turned to stone as he held my door open and waited for me to get in. Once I was settled and had my seatbelt on, he shut the door and got behind the wheel. Georgia, who had been standing on the other side of the SUV waiting for Marcus to open the door for her, glared at the guard before letting out a huff and opening the door herself.

Once she was inside and had her seatbelt on, Marcus finally put the vehicle in drive and pulled out of the driveway. I shot my oldest step-bitch a look at one point during the drive and had to hide a laugh behind a cough. Her hair was touching the roof, pushing her puffy tease down a few inches. Her leather shorts were so tight I wondered if it was cutting off blood flow to her vagina and her top told the world just how chilly it was in SoCal that night by how hard her nipples were.

It was going to be a very interesting night, that was for sure.

The drive wasn’t a peaceful one. Georgia pulled out her cellphone and started calling all her friends. She screamed at least six times—per phone call—which had Marcus on full alert, but she was giggling and laughing like she was having the time of her life. She was giving me a headache, though.