Detour: A Creekwood Novel (Creekwood Series Book 1)
Detour: Chapter 25

I step in front of Angela’s ranting mother, cutting her off amidst her pitiful glower. I face her, making sure she stays put, even though everything in my body is screaming to go after Angela myself. Her last words ring in my head on repeat. She doesn’t really mean that, right?

“I think Angela’s had enough,” I spit.

“And if she hasn’t, I sure the fuck have.” Beck posts up on my side. “Damn, woman, up until today I thought I had the world’s worst mom, and she abandoned me.”

Angela’s mom sneers, “Lucky her.” Jesus. This bitch is evil. “You boys are wasting your time. My daughter isn’t worth the trouble. You’ll see soon enough.”

“Leave,” Beck demands.

“You’ve outstayed your welcome.” If there ever was one.

“Excuse me? My daughter lives here. I’ll come around whenever I damn well please!” She sticks her finger in my face and I rear back to avoid her talon-like nails. This demon came to play. Little does she know I’d take on the devil himself to protect Angela.

“Yeah?” I spread my hands out wide. “I live here, too, and I’m telling you to leave.”

“What? Are you paying her bills or something? Wouldn’t surprise me. She tries to act better than me but she’s cut from the same unwanted cloth.”

How can she play victim while simultaneously being the villain? I’d be impressed if I wasn’t so fucking disgusted. This woman raised Angela?

“You don’t even know her, do you? Angela wouldn’t accept a handout if it was her last option. She fights for her independence and refuses to be a charity case. She works her ass off, choosing to take the hard road repeatedly instead of taking any shortcuts. She’s smart and tough as nails.” For anyone to not see that is ludicrous. “And you’re wrong, Angela isn’t unwanted. I want her. I want her exactly the way she is. Which from what I’ve seen today, aside from a few physical features, is nothing like you.” Thank fuck.

She barks out a harsh laugh. “Oh, really? And yet, she just left with someone else. You may think you want her, but does she want you?” She steps closer and I step back, careful not to let her too close. I don’t know what this monster is capable of. “You can try to see the good in her all you want. At the end of the day she’ll only ever choose herself. She’ll leave this world the way she entered it, alone and completely useless.”

And…wow. Just wow. No wonder Angela doesn’t trust anyone. This nut job spewing her bullshit would make anybody jaded.

“It doesn’t matter. I’ll choose her, over and over again.” I just need Angela to believe it first. Seeing where she came from shows I’ve got a steep road ahead but I’ve never backed down from digging in and pushing full throttle, and I’m not about to start now.

“We choose her,” Beck adds firmly, nodding when I look over at him. “Every time.”

“Yo, B, these new Civics are supposed to be unstealable, right?” Having stayed quiet until now, Marc steps up to my other side, surprising all of us. Beck’s eyes light up like a kid on Christmas morning. “How easy would it be to reset the immobilizer?” Marc makes it a point to stay out of other people’s business until he feels it necessary. Guess he’s reached his limit. Welcome to the fucking club.

Hands rubbing together, Beck whistles, sidling up to the red hood. “Too easy, bro.”

“If we see you here again causing problems, I’ll personally see to it that your car goes missing.” After a beat he adds, “Whether you’re in it or not. Now fuck off and don’t come back.”

“How dare you threaten me!”

“Anyone hear me threaten her?”

“Threaten who?” Beck asks innocently, glaring at the woman in question.

“Nope. The only threats I heard were the ones you’ve been making toward your own daughter.” I raise my eyebrows, letting the accusation linger.

Her face pales as she opens her door to climb in. “Suit yourselves. Just remember, trash can’t be saved.”

With that unfounded fact that I’m positive environmentalists everywhere would disagree with, we turn to watch her leave.

As usual, Beck’s the first to break the silence. “Goddamn, she was nasty. I need a drink.”

“Make that two.”

“Three,” I add.

Beck claps me on the back. “You gonna call her?”

“Fuck.” I run my hands through my hair, wishing I had a hat to cover it with. “I have to. We got her car.”

This makes Marc laugh. “How long ‘til she figures out there’s nothing wrong with it?”

I groan, turning for the stairs. “Don’t remind me.”

Big Mouth Beckett’s laughter booms through the stairwell, bouncing off the paint-chipped walls. “You fucked yourself on that one, huh?”

Yes, yes, I did. That shit backfired big time. Keeping her car under false pretenses was meant to help Angela, not push her into some other dude’s arms.

I know something weird is going on with that manager of hers. I had my suspicions before, what with his lurking around Creekwood, but driving through the wash with Marc confirmed it. Dude is bad news any way you slice it. Even Angela’s absentee mom mentioned the guy being immoral. Watching him ogle Angela as she cleaned up the other night was torture. I swear I’ve never wanted to beat the shit out of someone so bad, but ultimately, I didn’t. That job’s important to Angela—after meeting her mom I can see why—and I couldn’t risk her losing it over me bashing her boss’s face in. With her only form of transportation taken away, I’ve been able to make my presence not only seen but also felt at every shift since, which seemed like a good compromise. At the time.

Angela’s strong, not only physically, but mentally, too, and can take care of herself, but she shouldn’t have to. Knowing she’d refuse any help I offered, I jumped at keeping her car for a little longer than necessary. It’s not all bullshit—the vintage Jeep did need some repairs—but nothing we didn’t already have on hand. Beck got it fixed up as best he could, practically good as new, but I’ve been sitting on that information, waiting for the right time to bring it up. And now she’s with her boy Drew, or Drew The Douche as I like to call him—when Angela’s not around anyway—after spending the day with me. Fan-fucking-tastic.

Hell, I can still taste her if I lick my lips just right, which actually is fantastic considering how incredible Angela’s essence is.

I fling open our door, stalking to the kitchen to grab a sports drink from the fridge, then down the entire thing.

Today got away from me. It was damn near perfect before Satan’s mistress showed up, ruining everything. Angela was just starting to lower some of her walls for me. For us. I think back to the other night replaceing her asleep on the couch next to Beck. She’s warming up to us even if she doesn’t realize it yet.

Marc takes a seat at the counter, distributing the highly desired alcohol. Three shots of Fireball poured, we wordlessly cheers, then shoot them back simultaneously. The cinnamon-flavored burn a welcome distraction from the worry coating my throat.

The kitchen falls silent, everyone lost in their own thoughts.

Family members fighting with each other is nothing new, although in Marc’s family it’s usually only the men that do the verbal sparring. Watching two females go at it, especially with such blatant animosity, was unsettling for all of us. The fact it was directed at the woman that had her legs wrapped around my head just this afternoon made it that much harder to witness.

My parents avoid confrontation altogether, content with pretending everything is fine. And Beck simply doesn’t have any family. I can safely say none of us have ever seen anything like that before. Angela’s mom was out for blood. No doubt about it. And does she really think Angela owes her for giving birth to her? I don’t care how you spin it, that’s not how that shit works.

Today she let her guard down, only to throw it right back up at the first sign of her past. She’s strong as hell but she must be exhausted. Playing defense full time would wear anybody down. The walls Angela barricades herself behind make more sense now. It’s obvious they were built out of necessity, not choice. Needing to keep yourself safe from emotional abuse like that can take a toll. Seeing her mother’s cruelty firsthand gives me a whole new respect for Angela. Of course she’ll probably take it as pity though. While I do feel bad—nobody should be treated like that, especially not by a parent—I admire her strength for becoming the woman she is today.

I meant it when I said I wanted Angela. My attraction to her started the minute I laid eyes on her and has grown every moment since. Each small bit she’s shown, hooking me more and more. I can breathe easier when she’s near, like she’s the air I’ve been holding my breath for all my life. The air I’d go to battle for should anything, or anyone, threaten to take it away. That small taste from earlier did nothing to satisfy my hunger for her. I crave her day and night. Waking to Angela snuggled in my arms put every other morning in my life to shame. Starting a day without her in my bed lost any previous appeal and I’ll do anything to make sure the next time I get her there, she stays.

“Think she’ll come home tonight?”

My eyes trace the swirling pattern of the granite, considering his question. “I don’t know. She has graduation in two days so she has to come back sometime, right?”

Beck rubs the back of his neck, nodding absently. Marc’s lips tilt down slightly, none of us willing to voice our doubts.

“As long as that mother of hers doesn’t show up. Fuck. You really want to take that on?” Marc prods.

Eyes boring into his, I challenge, “You wouldn’t?”

“She deserves better than that. Shit, nobody deserves what I heard out there. I’m not even sleeping with her and I’d gladly take on that b-”

“Watch your mouth.” His eyebrows nosedive until I clarify, “It has nothing to do with sleeping with her.” We share a smirk.

“Coty’s right. Angie’s different. For whatever reason, she ended up living next door to us, the three misfits with shittier families than the next. But we get her now. We get to show her what we learned a long time ago. That family-”

“Is a choice,” Marc finishes Beck’s thought.

“We just have to show her that.” I nod, licking my bottom lip.

Words won’t work. They’ve been used as a weapon against her for so long, they’ve lost almost all meaning. We have to prove ourselves to Angela and hope she chooses us back.

* * *

“Pick up,” I ground out, listening to the line ring repeatedly before going to Angela’s generic voice mail—again. “Shit!” I toss my cell on the bed then yank my door open.

“Hey Coty,” a girl in the kitchen purrs as I pass. I jerk a nod in her direction and continue on. No thanks. She’s cute, with her perfectly curled blonde locks draped along her tiny shirt, showing off her curvy figure, down to her skintight jeans and high heels. She’s dressed to impress and usually it would. There’s just one problem though—she’s not Angela.

I scratch my stomach, hoping to alleviate the tightness there. It’s been twenty-four hours and still no sign of her.

The packed living room sends tingles up my arms and neck, settling at the base of my skull. Rolling my shoulders, I spot my roommates out on the back balcony. As soon as I slide open the door, my eyes scan the pool, wanting to see my favorite sight back here. However, my eyebrows snap together when I replace it empty. Fuck.

“Anything?” Beck asks, some random on his lap.

Both he and Marc look up and I shake my head in answer. We could’ve missed her while we were at work, but something tells me she hasn’t been here. No, that girl’s running. She’ll return when she feels there’s no longer a threat. The chance that I might be considered part of that threat is killing me.

“Want me to get Kary?” The apartment manager. She and Marc have some kind of agreement that none of us question. He keeps her happy and in return we have free run of the place. Her having keys to all the apartments is a nice perk, if needed, but I’m not ready to violate Angela’s privacy. Yet.

I shake my head again. “Nah, let’s give her more time.”

Marc shrugs, appearing unaffected, but I know better. I take in his still form as he stares absently at the high school across the street from Creekwood’s pool area and glance over to Beck with his white knuckles around a beer, ignoring the girl squirming in his lap.

The garage was nuts today, thankfully keeping us busy, yet it didn’t keep my ass from checking my phone every few minutes, hoping for literally anything from Angela. A text asking for a ride. A call telling me I should fuck off already. Okay, I wouldn’t have liked that last one, but at least I would’ve known she was alive. Not knowing is fucking torture. Her last words continue to haunt me, and with the amount of times the guys asked about her, I know they’re concerned, too. Drew better be taking good care of her. The bastard.

Speaking of, what was that shit Rianne said about him having a thing for Angela? Angela said they were step-siblings at one point and have been close ever since. Was that just her mom running her mouth? Or is he really holding out for her? Thinking back to the day I saw him with his girlfriend, and how in love they seemed, I shake the notion away. Plus, Angela wouldn’t stand for those kinds of games.

That level of dumbfuckery reminds me of her shitbag boss all over again.

Damn, I’m losing my mind with the scenarios Angela could be caught up in.

“Who’s on the cards tonight?” I ask suddenly, earning a pair of stunned expressions pointed my way.

“Why? You want on?” Beck asks.

I shrug, crossing my arms across my chest. “It’s been a while.” And I could use the distraction. We all could.

“Are you sure, dude? It’s been a little-”

“I’m sure.” I’m well fucking aware what it’s been. I swing my gaze to Marc. “Set it up.”

He doesn’t respond immediately, just holds my stare, then finally sighs, saying, “Alright, I’ll make the call.”

Beckett stands, guiding the chick off his lap. “Let’s go.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Fuck that, I’m going. I wasn’t feeling this party anyway.” Ignoring the protest behind him, he moves toward the door. “I could go for a race right now, too.”

We watch Marc get to his feet. “I’m in, but,” his eyes land on the deserted pool, “what if neighbor girl shows?”

I blow out a breath and drop my gaze, watching the calm water like she’ll surface at any moment, praying she will. “Then maybe she’ll stay.”

She’s voiced her concerns about living next to each other enough for me to know that’s partly to blame for her disappearance. If me being here is keeping her away, then I can figure out somewhere else to go. I can’t promise I’ll stay away for good, but I can give her the space she needs to feel comfortable again.

I just wish she’d come home already.

Since she moved in, there hasn’t been a single night that I didn’t go to bed knowing she was asleep just next door. Tossing and turning last night, I realized how much that knowledge comforted me. Feeling her close calms me. If I lose that, I lose a piece of my mind, a piece of my sanity. I need it back. I need her back. And I’ll do anything to make that happen, even if it means leaving.