I lift my gaze and clear my head. Jonah, he might be able to get ahold of Killian. But how do I get in touch with Jonah? I flip open my phone and scroll through my contacts to Raven’s cell number. I’m about to hit send when the rumbling of a truck engine grabs my attention.

Is it her? I push my ass off the step and down the stairs, resolving to hug her to death and then kill her.

Oh no.

The black Rubicon’s headlights flash off, the driver’s side door opens. Blake. And just like every other time I see him, I’m struck silent. His narrowed glare , rigid jaw, and solid frame targets me. He prowls forward. The ferocity of his gait sends my feet a few steps back in retreat. Running into the bottom step, I swing out my arm to catch myself from falling back onto the stairs.

Oh, God. He’s really mad. His green eyes burn into mine while his huge body closes in.

I walk backward one step at a time until I’m at his eye level.

He steps up to me and then stops. “Mouse.” His scowl moves from my hair to my cheeks, and relaxes into something softer by the time he meets my eyes. “What the fuck?” His voice is absent of its earlier irritation. “You okay?”

I blink at his sudden concern, surprised he didn’t call me out for kicking him in the balls. “No.”

He brings his hands to either side of my neck, forcing me to look at him. His thumbs run along my cheekbones. “Talk to me.”

“Elle. She’s not home. I don’t know where she is.”

Fire flares behind his green eyes. “She usually home by now?”

I nod into his hands.

“Did you talk to her after she got home from school today?”

“No. She’s been getting rides home from Killian, and sometimes they’ll grab a bite to eat or go study, but she always calls to let me know.”

“And tonight?”

“No call. Nothing.”

“Up.” He moves his hold from my face to my hips, turning me to guide me up the stairs.

I scurry up to my apartment, Blake following behind me.

Before he’s even inside, he has the phone to his ear. “Hey man, you got Killer’s number?”

I grab a piece of paper and a pen out of the junk drawer and hand them to Blake.

“It’s for Layla. She’s looking for Axelle.” He scribbles a few things on the paper. “Nah. We got it. But I’ll let you know.” He smiles at me in a way that I’m sure is supposed to be comforting, but the hint of fury that still works behind his eyes makes me squirm. “Later.”

His eyes drop to his phone. He punches in numbers then brings it to his ear. “Killian. It’s Blake. Listen, you take Axelle home today?”

I move in close and lean my ear toward the phone. Blake’s arm wraps around my shoulder and pulls me to his side. Gosh, that feels good. I nuzzle in, dropping my worry for what he might think the action implies, and soak up his comfort.

Killian’s voice mumbles through the cell phone, but I can’t understand a word. I peer up at Blake. “What’s he saying? I can’t hear him.” Panic throbs behind my ribs.

“You sure about that?” The arm around my shoulder pulls me tighter, and he nods. “Right. Thanks, man.”

He ends the call and shoves his phone into his pocket.

“What?” I pull back and cross my arms over my stomach, suddenly freezing cold. “Did he take her home?”

“Let’s sit.” He moves me into the living room and sits on the couch.

“I don’t want to sit, Blake.” Why do I need to sit? My head gets light, and my teeth chatter. “Is it bad? Are you afraid I’ll pass out? Just tell me, I’m freaking out here.”

“Come here.” He holds out his hand.

I don’t move.

“Everything’s okay, just come here.”

Closing the space between us, I grab his hand and he pulls me onto his lap.

The thought that I’m sitting on Blake’s lap in my living room tickles at the back of my mind, but the thought is shoved aside by my panic. “There. Now tell me what’s going on?”

He pushes my hair over my shoulder and lets his hand rest against my back. “Killian didn’t take her home today.”

“What!” I push off Blake’s lap, but he grabs my hips and pulls me back down.

“Sweetheart, calm down. You’re not doing your girl any favors by freakin’ the fuck out.”

“Okay, fine. Just tell me where she is.”

“He said she’s been hanging out with some different kids lately.”

Different kids?

“Guess she’s been ditching Killian after school and getting rides from a girl named Brooklyn.”

“Brooklyn. I’ve never heard her talk about any girl named Brooklyn.” She talks about a group of girls she’s made friends with, but they go see movies and go out for ice cream. “So she’s probably with her. Did Killian give you a number?”

A slight grimace twists his mouth. “Problem is, Killian doesn’t hang with that crew. According to him, they’re troublemakers.”

I feel my expression fall and my jaw go slack. My stomach turns and sours. “Oh no.”

“She’ll be fine, Mouse.” He sounds so sure. How can he be so sure? “But sounds like you girls need to have a mother-daughter heart-to-heart.”

I shake my head. “She doesn’t listen to me. She hates me.”

“Impossible.”

“No, I’m serious.” I groan and pinch closed my eyes. “It’s too late. I’ve lost her.”

He hooks my chin with his fingers, forcing me to look in his eyes. “It’s never too late.”

“You don’t understand—”

“I do. My dad’s a dick of epic proportions. He’s never been anything but a dick. Ever. You love your girl, she’s gotta feel it. She’s pissed. She’ll get over it. But she needs you. Do not give up on her.”

I stare at his handsome face, absorbing his words said with so much conviction it’s impossible not to believe him.

“I don’t know what to do.”

He runs his hand up my back. “You’ll figure it out.”

“She’s rebellious. She makes bad choices. I don’t want her to end up…” I exhale and fight the guilt that wells up at what I’m about to say. “Like me.”

“There are worse things than ending up like you, Mouse. I’m sure you talk to her, you’ll—Click.

The sound of the front door has us both on our feet. I rush to the kitchen to see Elle stumbling in through the door.

She sways on her feet, jiggling the door handle. “Stupid fucking keeeey.”

Worry and relief fuel my anger, and I cross the kitchen to get in her face. “Are you drunk?”

My question sends her body around so fast that she falls back against the wall. Her bloodshot eyes, rimmed in an obnoxious amount of black eyeliner, go wide over my shoulder. The heat of Blake’s presence behind me and his support make me stand taller. He literally has my back. “Answer me.”

Her sloppy eyes slide to mine. “Chill, Momma, chill.”

“Aw, fuck,” he murmurs for only my ears.

Aw fuck is right.

“It’s nine o’clock. On a school night.” There’s so much I want to say, but my mind scrambles to grasp just one coherent thought. “It’s not safe, Axelle. You’re a child, and you’re drunk. I trusted you.”

She glares at me and pushes off the wall. “Yeah, and I trusted you.”

That doesn’t make any sense. It must be the drunk talking. “Go to bed. You’re not making any sense.”

Her head rolls around on her shoulders. “Really, Mom? How about the fact that you sat on your ass. Doing nothing. Make sense?”

“What are you talking about?” I throw my arm out to indicate our home. “I’ve been working my butt off.”

She steps up, putting her nose just inches from my face. “Maybe you need to work harder.”

I blink through the stench of liquor on her breath when I feel Blake’s bicep press against my shoulder.

Damn, he’s hearing all this. He needs to leave. I need to end this. “Go sleep it off, Axelle. You don’t have the slightest clue what you’re talking about.”

For a second her eyes clear and she gives me a biting, deep-blue glare. “Don’t I?” She coughs up a laugh. “Not a baby anymore, Momma. All those years… you thought I didn’t know?” With a slow swipe of her eyes from my head to my ankles and back, she smiles. “You’re so fucking pathetic.”

“Enough.” Blake steps between us. “Bed. Now.” He grabs Elle’s arm and drags her to the mouth of the short hallway.

She rips her arm from his hold. “Fine, He-Man. That’s what I was gonna do anyway.” Her body ping-pongs down the hallway to her room, where she slams the door behind her with a muttered curse.

I stand there stunned but not at all surprised to hear her voice her feelings. I assumed she felt that way. Doesn’t make hearing it from her mouth any easier, though. It also doesn’t help that those exact words flowed from Stewart’s mouth frequently, oftentimes in front of her. Despite all my efforts to shield her from the ugliness of our life, she managed to have a front-row seat to the worst of it.

Blake’s standing with his back to me. His hands are on his hips, his face pointed to the floor. Shame and anger funnel within me. If I didn’t hate Stewart enough already, I despise him now.

I was convinced that leaving would solve my problems. But geographical distance doesn’t mean shit when the poison is imbedded so deep within that it’s become part of us. The destruction he left behind sabotages not only our relationship with each other, but ultimately our future.

“I’m sorry you had to see that.” There has to be something more I can say, something more poignant, but that’s all I can manage.

Words of eloquence were never your strong suit.

Fuck you, Stewart.

Blake faces me, and there’s a tenderness in his eyes that’s hard to look at. “She’s drunk. I’m sure she didn’t mean—”