Her Dangerous Revenge

CHAPTER 16

He thought about the picture beneath his bed, of Calla stooped over the oak tree,

her fingers tearing at the ground. He still had no idea what she'd been up to, but

based on her reaction in the parking lot two days ago, he had a pretty good feeling

that it hadn't been anything good.

She certainly wasn't planting a blackberry bush, that's for sure.

He couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You two are best friends now?"

"Well..." Vincent cleared his throat. "I got her number, actually. I was kinda thinking

we could do a double date thing. Help break the ice between you and Rachel."

Leave it to Vincent to let a pair of tight jeans sucker him in. Cooper sighed.

"Just give it a chance," he urged, overriding whatever protest Cooper could come up

with. "It's Rachel, Coop. I'm trying to do you a solid here."

"By sucking face with Calla?" he shot back.

"Honey bees?"

The boys turned toward the kitchen in unison.

Cooper's mom swiped the back of her hand across her forehead, smearing marinara

sauce in her left eyebrow. "I left a couple grocery bags in the car. Can you grab

them for me?"

Vincent stood immediately, all too happy to oblige. "Of course, Mrs. A."

Cooper clenched his jaw, too irate to manage more than a few words. "Be right

back, Mom."

They trooped out of the apartment and down a flight of stairs, hands shoved in their

pockets to ward away the cold. Vincent sighed, his breath clouding in the air in front

of his face.

"I think I'd take a bullet for your mom," he said, trying to change the subject as

nonchalantly as possible. His gaze traveled to the field beyond the parking lot—and

beyond that, to the white farmhouse where Calla lived. "No joke."

Cooper popped the trunk of his mom's silver Honda and smiled despite his irritation.

"You say that now. You should see her in the morning before she's had her coffee."

Vincent grunted as he helped him gather up the remaining bags from the trunk.

"Yeah. Well. Bet she's better than my old man before his morning beer."

Cooper had nothing to say to that. He closed the trunk in silence.

He and Vincent hurried back inside, forgetting their earlier disagreement—at least

for the moment. While his mom finished up in the kitchen, they set the table and

took turns "sampling" the garlic bread, dodging her playful admonitions. As the sun

sank below the horizon and afternoon gave way to evening, his mom lit a candle and

the three of them sat around the dining room table, laughing and debating and

avoiding all talk of funerals and fights.

Before Cooper's dad died, evenings like these could be tense. His dad hadn't been a

drinker. There were no "morning beers" for him. But he'd been something . His mom

told him his father had been depressed, and the medication made him volatile. As

he got older, Cooper thought he'd just been an asshole strung out on drugs.

Either way, he left one night to play poker in the city, over in Raleigh—an hour's

drive, thanks to Greenwitch's cozy location in the middle of nowhere—and he never

came home. And when his mom got the call that he'd never be coming back,

courtesy of a drunk driver, a small piece of Cooper broke off and fell away, like a

decayed tooth being pulled.

Seven years old, and Cooper had known a relief so profound he felt it in his very

bones.

Vincent had never said it. He'd never so much as hinted at it. But Cooper knew,

deep down, that he envied him the loss of his father.

After dinner, Cooper's mom disappeared in her room to get ready for a night shift,

leaving the two boys to finish cleaning up the dishes. They did so in silence, Vincent

babbling about his latest fantasy team; Cooper heard almost none of it, absorbed

with thoughts of Calla and the hidden shoebox under his bed and his best friend's

complete and utter idiocy.

"Can we make a pact?"

The words were so unexpected, they jarred Cooper back to the present. He looked

up at Vincent, his hands frozen in the stream of water pouring from the kitchen sink.

"What?"

Vincent stared straight ahead, gently toweling off a pan. "A pact. I need to tell you

something."

"Something else ?" Cooper jerked his hands back when he realized how hot the water

was; his skin had turned an angry shade red.

"It's...probably something I should have told you a while ago." He dropped the towel

and held out his hand to Cooper. "Pact?"

Cooper didn't hesitate this time. He shook his hand. "Pact. What's up?"

"What I'm about to tell you doesn't leave the apartment," Vincent warned before

releasing Cooper's hand, his eyes tight.

Cooper pursed his lips. "Who would I even tell?"

Vincent put down the pan he'd been drying off. "Okay. Fair point. I guess I'll just say

it." He sucked in a deep breath, bracing himself against the counter.

Cooper waited. And waited. Vincent held his breath for so long that his face went

red.

Cooper sighed. "Sometime today, maybe?"

"Astrid and I have been seeing each other," he let out in a rush. "It's been...like, four

months now? Since the summer."

Astrid. Hearing that name brought to mind a dozen memories, each one involving

the beautiful junior class treasurer. She'd never been quick to smile, nor to laugh.

But she had an easy way about her, a confidence with which she carried herself. And

she was beautiful. Striking, really. Her full lips and curled lashes had left more than

one boy weak at the knees—though the only one that had ever been granted the

privilege of touching those lips was Gareth. Until now.

A dozen questions warred in his head. But the one that spilled out was: "Then why

are you trying to screw Calla Parker?"

Not why are you sleeping with your friend's girl. Not why haven't you told me this until

now. Cooper already knew that Vincent wouldn't have a good answer. He rarely

thought things like this through.

Vincent buried his face in his hands with a groan. "I don't know . Astrid's playing

hard to get and I need a distraction."

"Hard to get?" Cooper interjected. He bit the inside of his cheek. "Uh, Vincent? She

has a boyfriend. I think playing hard to get in this case means an attempt at

being...I don't know. Faithful?"

"I know, I know," he moaned, rubbing a hand down his face. "She's just hot one

minute and cold the next, and I can't keep up." His next words were a mutter. "It's

not like Gareth's winning any best boyfriend of the year awards."

He had a point.

"Two wrongs don't make a right," Cooper argued, though there was no malice

behind it. No heat.

Vincent swallowed audibly and stared down into the sudsy dish water. "We were

supposed to be together by now. Like... together, together. She was going to dump

Gareth at the party."

But then her boyfriend's side piece was murdered. Yikes.

Cooper could imagine why Astrid hadn't pulled the trigger on the breakup. It

wouldn't exactly look great if she ended things right before the other woman turned

up dead.

"I think he knows, Coop." Vincent's murmur was low enough that Cooper had to

strain to hear him. "Gareth. I don't know. It's the way he looks at me. Like he

suspects, at least. And Stephanie too. She's always hissing in Astrid's ear right

before I come around." His eyes flickered back up to Cooper. "That girl loves her

gossip. You don't think she'd put me on blast in the school paper, do you?"

The school paper wasn't technically Stephanie's domain as head of the yearbook

committee. But the girl knew her secrets, and rumor had it that she'd slept with the

class secretary—whose responsibility included running the monthly paper—to

ensure no gossip would slip through the cracks.

"Stephanie wouldn't do that," Cooper insisted, though uncertainty nipped at him.

"Not without evidence. Have you two been careful?"

"Undercover is my middle name." Vincent went over to the dining room table and

shrugged out of his letterman jacket. He draped it over one of the chairs and

stretched his arms over his head. "Christ. This whole thing is exhausting. I couldn't

keep it in anymore."

"You could have told me sooner. But I get it. I do." Cooper tried to keep his tone

light. "So. Astrid Baker, huh?"

"Astrid Baker." Vincent said her name like a curse.

Cooper wasn't sure he felt one way or the other about Astrid. She was the daughter

of his favorite teacher, for one. Mr. Baker had a way of making Cooper feel seen. Not to mention the fact that the guy had basically saved his life by

intervening before Jacob's boot could do any real damage to Cooper's very fragile,

very breakable face. As his daughter, Astrid deserved some benefit of the doubt. At

least where Cooper was concerned.

That, and she didn't make it her personal mission to belittle his existence, like

Jessica. But she also hadn't gone out of her way to show him support, as Stephanie

had immediately following Tracy's death. All he really knew about the girl was that

she'd been dating Gareth since middle school.

It didn't really count if your boyfriend constantly found new, inventive ways to sneak

around behind your back.

He could see how she might be drawn to Vincent, especially if she'd finally caught

wind of Gareth's favorite pastime. Toying with one of Gareth's closest friends made

for an ugly revenge scheme, though.

"Does this mean we don't have to go on a double date with Calla Parker?" Cooper

asked hopefully, trying to close the door on their earlier conversation once and for

all.

Vincent shook his head. "Nope. Still need a rebound."

"Jessica Sneider."

"Too easy."

"Venus Upton."

"She makes Jessica look chaste."

He's not gonna let this Calla thing go.

"Alright." Cooper shut off the water and dried off his hands, his eyes straying down the hall that led to his bedroom. He had plenty of secrets—he couldn't exactly fault his friend for having a few of his own. "If that's how you want to play this, then I guess I'm with you."

Vincent shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back and forth, uncertain.

"Seriously? No judgement?"

"Oh. There's judgement." Cooper rolled his eyes. "But you're going to do what you want either way. I might as well enjoy the ride."

Even if it kills me.