My dad stops short when we reach the front door. “Oak?”

“Dad?”

His gaze snaps to mine. “I know I’m giving you a lot of shit about talking to her, but I just want the best for you…and I really don’t think she’s it.”

With that, he walks out.

A tight knot forms in my chest. He’s wrong.

Reaching inside my t-shirt, I pull out the St. Christopher pendant and feather that belong to her.

Bianca Covington was the best thing that ever happened to me...

And I fucked it all up.

Chapter 34

Bianca

Stone lied to me.

He told me he wrote that poem, but he didn’t.

Oakley did.

God, I’m so angry I could scream.

I glance at the clock. Stone will be here any minute to pick me up for the party we’re supposed to go to for Ruth’s birthday and I can’t wait to see him so I can give him a piece of my goddamn mind.

I continue digging through some old purses in my closet, searching for the poem so I can confront him with the evidence before he can attempt to skirt around it.

He lied.

And yes, I’m lying to him about my secret friendship with Oakley and two wrongs don’t make a right, but…

I hiss when my finger slices across a piece of paper.

“Dammit.”

I’m about to get a Band-Aid for my papercut, when a note scrawled in my handwriting catches my eye.

I’m not good with words like you are, but I figured I’d try anyway.

I know you hate your birthday because it reminds you of your mom, but despite how much she disgusts me…I’m also grateful to her.

Because she brought you into the world.

This beautifully broken yet incredible person who’s fundamentally changed me for the better.

Because you’re the only one who’s ever been able to break through my walls and truly see me.

Happy birthday, Oakley.

Thank you for being born.

Thank you for saving me…even when it’s from myself.

Always yours,

Bianca

Past…

My hands turn clammy as I fold the letter and place it on Oakley’s kitchen table.

Get a grip.

I’m not the kind of girl who gets clammy hands and butterflies in her stomach.

I’m also not the kind of girl who writes love letters…but here we fucking are.

I’ve been searching my brain for weeks, trying to come up with the perfect present to get Oakley for his birthday—well, aside from my mouth on that gigantic dick of his—but I couldn’t come up with anything.

Until this morning.

Given he writes poems, I figured he might enjoy something written by me.

Or maybe not, because I’m not nearly as good as he is with his words.

I did, however, write him something straight from the heart.

Something genuine.

I glance at the clock above the oven.

Oakley told me he’d be back around two a.m., but it’s now well past three.

Not that I should be worried, because he’s out with my brothers having his boys’ night so I know he’s safe.

I’m about to slip into his bed and wait for him there, but the latch on his front door clicks open.

A moment later a very drunk Oakley stumbles inside…but he’s not alone.

He—along with my equally drunk brothers—are standing on either side of him, slurring the words to some rap song.

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I mutter a curse.

I glare at Jace who up until now has always been the responsible one. “I thought you were the designated driver.”

He glances at his friend. “Oak told me I was being a buzzkill and fired me.”

Oakley and Cole snort.

I open my mouth to start screaming about the dangers of driving drunk, but Jace reaches over and pats my head. “Relax. We took an Uber home.” His face twists in confusion. “Why are you here?”

Dammit. Even plastered, Jace is too perceptive for his own good.

Ignoring him, I start herding the drunk trio over to the couch, however it’s the equivalent of wrangling puppies because Cole starts raiding the cabinets looking for food, Jace trips over the coffee table, and Oakley announces he has to take a leak before venturing to the bathroom.

“Does he ever go food shopping?” Cole whines as he joins a nearly passed out Jace on the couch. “I’m hungry.” He looks up at me. “Make me food.”

Hands on my hips, I turn my furious glare on him. “I’m your sister, dipshit, not your servant.”

He pouts. “Come on.”

“Fine.” Walking over to the kitchen table, I pick up my cell. “I’ll order you a pizza.”

At that, Jace perks up. “Make sure you ask for pineapple.”

“Dude, no,” Cole argues as I bring the phone to my ear. “Pineapple doesn’t belong on pizza, you fucking freak of nature.”

“Fuck you, pretty boy,” Jace snaps before shoving him. “We’re getting pineapple.”

Cole shoves him back. “No, we’re not.”

Jace stands—or rather, he tries to—but he’s so drunk he wobbles. “Pine-fucking-apple.”

Cole staggers to his feet. “Meat-fucking-ball.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

“Hello,” a groggy sounding Sawyer answers after the third ring. “Bianca, are you okay?”

“Oh, I’m fine.” I clear my throat. “However, I need you to come to Oakley’s and get your boyfriend who is so drunk he’s seconds away from fist fighting his brother—who is also drunk, by the way—over pineapple pizza.”

“Shit.” I can practically hear her jumping out of bed. “I’ll be right there.”

I promptly end the call.

Mouth agape, Cole places his hand over his heart. “Traitor.” He looks at Jace. “Can you believe she called Sawyer and tattled on me?”

Shrugging, Jace plops down on the couch. “Not my problem.” Folding his arms behind his head, he places his feet on the coffee table and peers up at me. “Pineapple. Now.”

Flashing him some teeth, I bring the phone to my ear again. “Sure thing.”

Dylan picks up after the second ring. “Hi—”

“I need you to come to Oakley’s and pick up your drunk boyfriend. Now.”

With that, I hang up.

Cole snorts. “Well played, little sis.”

Reaching over, Jace smacks the back of his head. “Shut up.”

They start arguing again, but it dawns on me that Oakley’s been in the bathroom for a while now.

Leaving them to their bickering, I walk inside the bedroom and head for the adjoining bathroom.

The door swings open right before I reach it.

Oakley’s expression is almost painful. “You.”

“Me.”

Next thing I know he’s shoving me up against the wall in a kiss so sizzling my skin breaks out in goose bumps.

“Do you have any idea what you fucking do to me?” His hot mouth skates down my jaw. “How much you fuck me up?”