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  He also said as soon as it was safe he and his dad would come after her, which did not sit any better with her butterflies. Telling him Declan was there, that she was not alone and felt safe, would only give them a reason to stew on their tempers for hours to come. How she felt wouldn’t matter.

  To top it all off Declan looked like he’d rather be anywhere else in the world.

  The directions from both Murdock and her Dad, as well as curse words and insults went on for a few more minutes as they repeated what she needed to do as if she were a fool.

  Finally, she hung up, but before she looked up at Declan she sent a text to her grandmother, telling her she was safe in coded words: anchored safely, wings are above me.

  If her father saw such words, he’d see them as a form of prayer, something common Justice would say to her grandmother, a windowed preacher’s wife. When in reality, she’d told her grandmother she was with a Rawlings, her Rawlings.

  The anchor and wings were just two symbolic elements in the Marine Corps emblem. One her grandmother knew well because of her father and brothers’ service.

  Her grandmother was pretty much Justice’s best friend, and in a real way had been the only mother she’d known. Justice had friends her age, but still, only her grandmother knew what life was really like behind closed doors.

  For a while now Bell had known Justice was in love with Declan Rawlings, and she understood exactly why that was so dangerous.

  Weeks before when she found Justice crying over Declan, Bell told her to find a way to say her peace, her goodbye. Exactly what Justice’s teenage heart did not need to hear, but then Bell explained more, the boy was going to be gone soon. And for all Justice knew, she might not be fond of the man who returned. Then again, she might—either way she should say her peace, so when she looked back she didn’t regret anything.

  So be it, she thought as she finally glanced up to see Declan looking enraged at the world.

  ***

  Declan had all but bit his tongue just to remind himself not to say something he’d regret, like give this girl a ‘come to Jesus’ lecture about how she didn’t belong with an asshole who could forget her—who could ever forget Justice? And then follow that up with the fact that he thought her father was a rip roaring asshole who needed to figure out how to put a cork in his bottle and mouth—who cusses a girl out because some other asshole forgot her?

  Yep. Too much adrenaline was running through him and there she was an innocent lamb locked in a cage with him.

  He settled with saying, “Looks like your ride’s a dick.”

  Justice smiled coolly even though her heart was thundering. “I tend to disagree with that popular belief.”

  Of course she was talking about him, but would he realize that? She had no idea. He never responded when she tried to flirt, he just looked at her like she was crazy—sometimes like she was his biggest enemy.

  He turned his head to the wind so she couldn’t hear the cuss word he let out.

  And there it is, Justice thought when she saw his hard expression. Even though he constantly looked furious when she was near him...it was the only place she really wanted to be. There was something about his deep baritone voice, his reserve, the control he had that made her feel safe.

  Distant storm sirens wailed.

  “Pack it up, girl. We gotta get away from this door,” Declan said with a huff.

  Holy shit, this is for real happening, Justice thought to herself as she tried to squash the butterflies in her gut. This was not her daydreaming as she drifted to sleep, this was not her stealing a glance at him. It was real. And it would be the last time she was ever alone with this boy.

  “You cold?” he asked as he felt her tremble once he grasped her hand to help her up.

  The wind was howling and the air was moist with rain, causing her skin to look all the more inviting to him. Her eyes were as electric as the approaching storm felt. She didn’t look like a girl right then, she looked like a woman. Like a woman who had always had his number.

  Justice made it to her feet, but in her nervousness she dropped her book and a few notes she had.

  Declan leaned down to help her and right as he did she stood and turned, slamming into his chest—so hard that it threw her off balance. His hands landed on her hips to steady her. He hissed on contact. She felt too right under his touch. She wasn’t just flesh under his hands, it was more. It was always more with her, and God help him, he could not comprehend why.

  They both froze for an instant. He could feel the heat of her flesh under the thin cotton of her dress. He was pretty sure that every inch of her ivory skin at the moment was covered in a blush, and thinking of such things was not doing him any favors.

  She slowly lifted her head when the lightning flashed. When he saw a surreal excitement in her eyes, he let her go. No ties, his thoughts warned.

  “Come on,” he said with a tight nod.

  The wind had stilled, but Declan could see the clouds stirring in the distance, daring to attack. The saying calm before the storm had merit—still was not good.

  He sent a text to Nolan as they walked. U sure it’s 2 bad 2 leave.

  His response was quick. Stuck. You good?

  No. Fine.

  Justice glanced over her shoulder toward the steps that lead out.

  “It’s not safe to leave, I just checked,” Declan said shortly.

  “As if those eerie sirens said otherwise.”

  He drew his brow together questioning why her words were bold, but her tone was shaking. Assuming it was the storm stirring her, he placed his hand on the small of her back and led her away from the growl of Mother Nature.

  Even though his hand was barely touching her, he could feel her shiver, and it took all the willpower he could muster to not pull her against him. He couldn’t handle the idea of her being scared.

  Even though they were walking away from the opening of the dugout, moving further underground where the locker rooms were—with each step, the more electric the air seemed to become.

  I’m way too aware of this girl.

  Right as they passed the coach’s office the weather radio on his desk went off, sounding a horrible noise that would’ve made anyone think the end of the world was breathing down their neck. Declan let go of her and stepped inside to grab it then turned it down a bit, thinking it would help with her nerves. He listened to the warning that followed. Nolan was right, it was worse than they thought it was going to be all week.

  Holding the radio, he stepped back out and guided her down the hall toward the locker rooms. She hesitated outside the doors. “Is this allowed?” she asked in the most innocent voice he’d ever heard.

  He couldn’t help the dangerous smile that emerged. “I think in a life or death situation no rules apply.”

  “Good to know,” she said under her breath.

  He heard and it caused him to arch his brow in question. She didn’t see it, though, she was too busy taking in the forbidden territory of the boys’ locker room that was wet and littered with towels. She always imagined the smell would be rank, but instead it was rich with cologne and the hint of Irish Spring soap.

  Declan adjusted the bag on his shoulder then pushed the door open wider, guiding her as he took her hand. “It’s slick in here,” he said to offer an excuse. “Don’t fall.”

  When she tightened her grip on him his heart thundered in response.

  He led her down the aisle a ways, beyond the showers and the lockers. He squeezed her hand a little tighter each time her steps would dare to hesitate as he pulled her further and further underground. He was determined to get her to the safest place under this school.

  “There are storage areas back here. Used to be at least. We get there and we’ll be in the inner most room, underground.”

  “I would’ve never thought to go back here,” she admitted.

  His look was incredulous. “Surely you know how to ride a storm out?”

  “In a cellar with a goo
d book. Tends to be less than riveting, well...depending on the book, I guess.”

  He bit his lip so he wouldn’t smile. She read through storms and he partied. “Well, see there’s your mistake. You’ve never ridden one out with a Rawlings.”

  A crimson blush washed down Justice; the wave of a dare that landed her there was quivering under his penetrating gaze. “And what exactly have I been missing? Where are your brothers tonight?”

  Three sheets to the wind. “Under the bar, which is wall to wall with food and beer, more than likely with, um, friends, too.”

  “This must suck for you, then,” Justice said glancing away, wondering what girl he’d had in mind for tonight before she trapped him.

  Hardly. “I’ve lived through worse.”

  True to his word, further down the hall right past a wide doorway was a healthy sized closet. Blue foam cushions the wrestling team used were on the floor and leaning up against each wall.

  “Nice and safe,” he said as he urged her in. “I’m going to head back and look for some batteries for this thing,” he said holding up the radio.

  Her eyes cast a wide glance at him, begging him to not leave her alone back there.

  “Five seconds. Settle in. My brother just texted again, said line of storms is right on us. They already lost power at the bar.”

  She shakily nodded then dropped her bag. When she looked up he was gone. One breath at a time. You want to be here...

  Three

  Justice kept pacing back and forth on the mats laid across the six-foot space. She could hear the thunder and wind whistling by the vents above her head.

  “It’s bad isn’t it,” she said when Declan came back looking like a man in charge, who didn’t care what was coming at him—he was going to stand tall anyhow. He had the radio in one hand, a flashlight under one arm, and a handful of towels. And his same tragically pissed expression.

  “Even if it was, we’re underground,” he said as he dropped the towels. He spread a few out then nodded for her to have a seat. The mats were soft but he had no idea how clean they were. If it was up him he’d have hunted down a feather bed for her to rest on, but this would have to do.

  He still couldn’t figure out how in the hell he’d managed to get himself in this situation or how he was going to make it to the end of the night without this girl twisting his head all over again.

  Justice slowly knelt down then leaned against the wall with her legs stretched out and crossed, and did what she did best—stared at Declan. He was impossible to read, but she loved to try.

  He was going through the bag he had with him, apparently taking inventory and not liking what he saw.

  Finally, with a grunt he handed her a bottle of water then sat down next to her and drew up one knee, the one closest to her, basically making a barrier between them.

  The barrier didn’t do anything to quell her butterflies. He had a history of being an ass around her. Then when she least expected it he’d kiss her and make her melt from the inside out.

  Both times he had decided to ignore her afterward, which basically told her she was just another girl, nothing special, so she reciprocated the gesture and made sure she didn’t look like a star-struck kid around him. In the past she could never decide if she was mad or hurt, knowing all the while it was both.

  It didn’t matter now though. The boy she knew was going to be gone in days. With most boys, it was hard to tell the moment they decided to man up and become a man. Not with Marines. Justice was pretty sure it happened in boot camp, across thirteen weeks.

  Right now, she was positive if she told him she had planned to get him to take her home it would only infuriate him. Nolan had to be teasing me... she thought.

  When she’d asked Nolan why he went after Murdock the way he did almost two months ago, he grinned and said, “Because Declan would’ve kicked my ass if a tear of yours went unanswered.” Her expression questioned him and he laughed in his carefree Nolan way. “He’s got it bad, but don’t worry. I’ve got your back until he figures that out. No broken hearts ‘round here.”

  It was exactly what she didn’t need to hear, it made her watch Declan more, daydream about him more.

  Teasing her, throwing out some off the wall statement, was something Nolan was known to do. Out of all the Rawlings’ boys he seemed to have the best sense of humor, which helped him get out of more than one conflict at school. His charm didn’t hurt matters either.

  Justice was dreading Nolan leaving, too. He was the breath of fresh air she took in every day. Declan was the dream that never left her thoughts.

  Declan held the radio to his ear to hear the warning that had just come in. He didn’t want her to know how close the storm was. From how fidgety her hands were he was sure she didn’t handle these things well.

  Once the radio was quiet, he dug in his bag for a shirt. He almost pulled out another one of Nolan’s t-shirts, but he spotted his hoodie, the one Nolan liked to jack on the regular, and handed it to her.

  “It’s clean, I swear. You’re freezing, so put it on.”

  Clean or dirty was not what was causing her to hesitate. It was the realism that he was taking care of her, that he offered a sweet gesture, thoughtlessly.

  Pick a signal, Declan. You’re making my head spin. Slowly, she pulled the cloth over her shoulders as she breathed in the aroma—a deep, demanding spice.

  In truth, she was in awe that he’d noticed she was trembling. He hadn’t looked her in the eye yet, and he made it a point to keep his distance. Even though he’d guided her by the small of her back and held her hand, his touch was guarded.

  “Did they just say Bradyville?” she asked, nodding at the radio.

  “They did, but the streets they said were a good half mile away. They’re more worried about flash flooding. Stay put is what they’re all saying.”

  She let out a deep breath as she dug in her bag for her phone; just to make sure no one had called her.

  “Service sucks down here. It’s better by the lockers, but I’m betting the lines are down.” He nodded to her. “Your dad not done yelling at you or somethin’?”

  She held his stare longer than she wanted to. Justice wanted to see him, his demons, but wasn’t ready for him to see hers, to understand the storm below her calm surface.

  “He likes the sound of his voice,” she said, finally moving her gaze from him.

  It was tense for a second, but finally he spoke. “Would you tell somebody if it was too bad?”

  She bit her lip, telling somebody anything was a fool’s errand. The Sheriff was one of her dad’s best friends. And her father all but ran the mayor’s campaign. His real-estate business had him connected to almost every walk of life in or around Bradyville, and those were just his public friends, not the ones he drank with, or played cards with or whatever he did when he’d disappear at night.

  Brent Rose was furious Justice’s grandfather had stepped in at all when it came to Justice, and the moment he died he made moves to control everything he had, including the church and the home Justice lived in.

  Brent Rose found a loophole, everything was left to Justice, and she was a minor. Even when her grandmother tried to say she was a guardian, too, it came down to what kind of one she was, and he split enough hairs to where it came out she had no financial say. After Brent Rose had all but robbed her grandmother, he moved under her roof. And now here they were. Waiting for the right way to get back what was theirs.

  “I know how to deal,” she said, flinching a smile. She didn’t want this, for him to look at her like a charity case—to remember her as some poor girl with a sordid father.

  Declan clenched his fist and told himself to calm down. “That’s not an answer. Murdock know it’s bad at home?”

  Murdock did. He’d heard about and he’d seen it. How he felt about it seemed to vary. Murdock liked how overprotective her dad was, and felt privileged her dad let her leave with him. Murdock liked the version of her dad who worked on cars in his
shop, or watched the game.

  Other times when Murdock was around and her dad lost his mind, he’d either make an excuse or tell her it was the bottle talking.

  Murdock Souter had his pluses and minuses, ones Justice had never really cared to figure out. When it came down to the bones of it he was a friend her father approved of.

  She arched a brow and grasped a bit of her nerve. “Why would it be Murdock’s issue?”

  Declan drew his head back in confusion, “If you were my—” he caught his words almost a second too late. “If you were a Rawlings’ girl it would be our issue.”

  She swayed her hand between them. “Something is lost in translation. I’m not getting why you think I’m anyone’s girl, or why my private life is anyone’s business but mine.”

  Declan hadn’t heard her boldness in years, so at first it threw him, but then what she said settled a bit. “You’re always with Murdock.”

  “He’s my ride.”

  “You guys have never—” Again he stopped himself, because he was sure he didn’t want to know the answer.

  “Are you trying to ask me if we messed around? If we have benefits?”

  “No.”

  “What then?”

  He cursed under his breath and looked away then right back at her. “Why did he make you cry? Why did Nolan hit him if you and him don’t have anything real?”

  Justice felt like she had been punched in the gut. A quake of fear exploded in her chest causing her blush to deepen.

  When Declan Rawlings had you pinned in under his gray stare, the rays of baby blue slicing through it, lying was not possible; at least it wasn’t for her. Her issue now was the truth was not possible either.

  The morning the fight went down was the same morning her grandmother told her what to expect before and after Declan left. It was the morning Bell told Justice to say her peace. Murdock had heard some of the conversation, how much Justice didn’t know, but on the way to school he told her fretting over a jarhead Rawlings was a waste of time.