"Ourcompany," Brody corrected. "And it's my fucking house."
Looking more pissed off than ever, Mason replied, "Yeah? So?"
Brody stepped forward until they were standing chest to chest. "So, do I tellyouhow to runyourshit?"
But Mason still wasn't backing down. "Not if you're smart, you don't."
"Exactly," Brody said. "So leave her alone, alright?"
Hearing this, a wave of gratitude washed over me. And yet, I couldn't help but feel incredibly awkward for causing such tension between the brothers.
I looked to Mason and said, "Look, you're obviously angry. And I totally get it. Really, I do –"
"You're wrong," he said.
I frowned up at him. "What?"
"You get nothing." He turned back to Brody and said, "You want this? Go ahead. But don't come bitching to me when she torches the place."
Oh, for crying out loud."Hey! I'm not the torching type!"
My claim hung there like a cloud in our midst, because all three of us knew that yes, at leastsometorching had happened in the past – specifically to Brody's truck. And me? I'd been the one holding the lighter.
After a long, awkward moment, I muttered, "Okay fine. But that was a total accident."
And it was,really.
Chapter 33
Arden – Six Years Earlier
Un-freaking-believable.
It was my last week of high school, and everyone was in a glorious mood.Everyone but me.
It was early Wednesday afternoon, and I'd just walked out of school with an advance printout of my final grades.They weren't good. Or at least, they weren't good enough.
In spite of blowing up the chemistry lab and being suspended for two whole weeks, by some miracle – not to mention a whole bunch of extra credit – I'd still managed to pull my grades out of the gutter.
I'd even managed to pass chemistry, but just barely. But barely wasn't good enough, and my scholarship was officially torched, just like my eyebrows.
I looked like a goblin, and I felt like one, too.
But Brody?He looked as amazing as ever. I knew because I still saw him in class – well, whenever he showed up, that is.
We never spoke, not even to argue about what had happened.
After that senseless explosion, I'd called him every name in the book – not that he'd seemed to care, just like he hadn't cared that we'd both been suspended, or that I'd gotten half of the blame forhisrecklessness.
And why did I share in the blame?It was because although he'd held the lighter,I'dopened the door. The whole thing had been caught on camera, thanks to video surveillance in the hall, and there was no denying the fact that both of us had played a role in what had happened.
Still, it was all so incredibly unfair.
I hadn't done anything wrong. Not really.
But there was nothing I could do about it now. I'd argued and explained until I'd been blue in the face, but none of it had done any good, not even when my grandparents had argued on my behalf.
According to the school administrators, I was just lucky I hadn't been sued for damages or kicked out of school entirely.
