Chapter Four

Drevin shows up forty-three minutes later.

Not that I’m counting.

I’m sitting cross-legged on my bed pretending to watch a video on my phone when I hear his truck pull into the driveway.

My attention snaps toward the window.

Pathetic.

Absolutely pathetic.

I force myself to wait another thirty seconds before getting up.

Then twenty.

Fine.

Ten.

By the time I reach the bottom of the stairs, the front door is already opening.

Drevin walks in without knocking.

“Anybody home?”

“No,” I call.

His head turns toward me.

The grin that spreads across his face makes the stupid tension I’ve carried around all day loosen a little.

“There she is.”

“You said maybe.”

“And yet, here I am.”

“You could’ve texted.”

“You could’ve missed me quietly.”

I roll my eyes.

But I’m smiling.

I hate that he knows it.

Drevin starts toward me.

For one hopeful second, I think he’s going to hug me the way he usually does.

Instead, he bumps his shoulder lightly against mine as he passes.

It shouldn’t bother me.

It does.

“You smell like coffee,” he says.

“I work at a café.”

“Really? I thought you spent your shifts fighting elderly women for pastries.”

“Only on Tuesdays.”

“Good. I was worried.”

He reaches for the paper bag I left on the kitchen counter earlier.

I smack his hand.

“No.”

Drevin looks offended.

“You brought bakery food home and didn’t save me anything?”

“You weren’t here.”

“I’m here now.”

“So is the concept of consequences.”

He stares at me.

“You’ve been spending too much time with Callum.”

“Impossible.”

“Agreed.”

“Glad we—”

Drevin stops.

His entire expression changes.

I follow his gaze.

Logan is still sitting at the kitchen table.

Callum is beside him, sorting through the patrol papers they apparently haven’t finished discussing after nearly an hour.

Logan looks up.

The room immediately feels different.

Not louder.

Not even tense exactly.

Just sharper.

Drevin’s smile disappears.

“Kingsley.”

“Brooks.”

I glance between them.

There it is.

The bizarre, completely unreasonable hatred that has existed between Drevin and Logan for as long as I can remember.

I still don’t know exactly how it started.

Ask Callum and he says they’ve “always rubbed each other the wrong way.”

Ask Drevin and he’ll give you a thirty-minute explanation about Logan being an arrogant, entitled control freak.

I have never bothered asking Logan.

I assume he’d stare at me for several seconds and say something deeply helpful like, Drevin is irresponsible.

Callum doesn’t even look up from the papers.

“If either of you starts, take it outside.”

Drevin leans against the counter.

“Start what?”

Callum flips a page.

“Whatever stupid competition the two of you invented in your heads.”

Logan’s mouth tightens.

“There’s no competition.”

Drevin laughs once.

“Of course you’d think that.”

Logan slowly looks at him.

“What exactly do you imagine we’re competing over?”

Drevin’s grin returns.

But it isn’t the one he uses with me.

This one has teeth.

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out. You’re the future Alpha.”

I groan.

“Oh my God.”

Neither looks at me.

Wonderful.

Drevin reaches into the bakery bag.

I slap his hand again.

That gets his attention.

“What?”

“You still haven’t asked.”

He stares at me like I’ve lost my mind.

“For food?”

“Yes.”

“Camille.”

“Drevin.”

He sighs dramatically.

“May I please have one of the pastries that you definitely brought home intending for me to eat anyway?”

“No.”

His mouth falls open.

I grin and hand him a cinnamon roll.

“You’re awful.”

“You love me.”

The words come out automatically.

They’ve been exchanged between us a thousand times.

Drevin freezes for half a heartbeat.

My smile falters.

Then he takes the cinnamon roll.

“Unfortunately.”

Something twists strangely in my chest.

I look away first.

Callum finally abandons the paperwork.

“You staying for dinner?”

Drevin takes a huge bite.

“If your mom’s cooking.”

“Leech,” Callum says.

“Jealous because your family likes me better?”

“No one likes you.”

Camille’s father appears in the doorway from the garage.

“I like him.”

Drevin points at him triumphantly.

“See?”

Dad grabs a bottle of water from the refrigerator.

“You fix my truck for free.”

Drevin’s expression falls.

“Wow.”

Dad pats his shoulder.

“Reality hurts.”

Logan makes the smallest sound.

Drevin’s head snaps toward him.

“Something funny?”

“No.”

“You looked amused.”

“I wasn’t.”

“You were.”

I look at Callum.

“Do they always sound like divorced parents?”

Callum snorts.

Dad nearly spits out his water.

Drevin looks at me.

Logan does too.

I gesture between them.

“What? You’re exhausting.”

“We barely said anything,” Drevin argues.

“You said ‘Kingsley’ like you wanted to challenge him to a duel.”

“I always say his name like that.”

“That is not helping your case.”

Logan gathers the papers into a neat stack.

“At least she’s observant.”

Drevin’s eyes narrow.

“Didn’t ask you.”

“And yet I spoke.”

“Oh, good,” I say. “We’re progressing. Soon you two might learn full sentences.”

Callum laughs.

Drevin flips him off.

Logan stands.

He’s taller than Drevin by maybe an inch, but somehow the difference feels larger when they’re standing across from each other.

Drevin straightens.

Immediately.

There’s something almost instinctive about it.

Challenge meeting challenge.

Neither man smiles.

I step between them.

Not because I think they’re actually about to fight.

Probably.

“New rule.”

Drevin looks down at me.

“No.”

“You don’t even know what it is.”

“I know your rules.”

“You usually ignore them.”

“Exactly.”

I point toward the pantry.

“I’m going to lock both of you in there until one of you develops basic manners.”

Callum leans back in his chair.

“I support this.”

“You’re not helping,” Logan says.

“I’m not trying to.”

Drevin looks at the pantry.

“Too small.”

“I’ll make it work.”

“For him, maybe.”

Logan’s eyes go flat.

“What does that mean?”

Drevin grins.

“Whatever you want it to mean.”

“Drevin.”

My tone must register because he looks at me.

I shake my head.

Enough.

For a second, he seems ready to keep going.

Then his shoulders relax.

“Fine.”

Logan notices.

His gaze moves from Drevin to me.

Something unreadable passes across his face.

Then he picks up the papers.

“We’re finished anyway.”

Callum stands.

“Finally.”

Logan nods once toward my dad.

“Thanks for letting us use the table.”

“Anytime.”

Then his eyes land on me.

“Camille.”

There it is again.

My name.

Nothing else.

I lift a hand.

“Logan.”

He walks out.

Drevin watches until the front door closes.

Then he mutters, “Asshole.”

I turn on him.

“You started that.”

“He exists aggressively.”

I burst out laughing.

“I don’t even know what that means.”

“It means he’s Logan.”

Drevin steals another bite of his cinnamon roll.

I shake my head.

“You know, if I ever figure out why you two hate each other, I’m charging admission.”

“You’d make a fortune.”

“I could retire.”

His grin appears.

For a moment, he looks like himself again.

My Drevin.

The boy who has spent most of his life irritating me on purpose.

I smile and step toward him.

“Are you actually staying for dinner?”

“Maybe.”

I groan.

“You and that word today.”

“What?”

“You keep saying maybe.”

His smile slips.

Only slightly.

I’m close enough now that normally he’d reach for me without thinking.

An arm around my shoulders.

A hand at my waist.

Something.

Instead, both hands disappear into the pockets of his hoodie.

Again.

I stare at them.

Then at him.

“You really are avoiding me.”

Drevin goes completely still.

The joking vanishes.

For one second, neither of us says anything.

Then he laughs.

Too late.

Too forced.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do.”

“Cam—”

I grab his wrist before he can move away.

The reaction is instant.

Drevin jerks out of my grip.

Not hard enough to hurt me.

But fast.

Like my touch burned him.

I freeze.

So does he.

His eyes widen.

“Camille—”

I lower my hand.

Drevin stares at me with something dangerously close to panic.

And suddenly I know one thing for certain.

Whatever has been wrong with my best friend all week—

he knows exactly what it is.

And he’s hiding it from me.