If my little sister doesn’t like Vic, we’re going to have problems.

“He hid behind the shark tank and leapt out!” Heather explains, her green eyes lighting up with joy. “We thought it was funny, but he made a little girl cry.” She grins big, but then her smile fades and she narrows her eyes at me. “You would’ve seen it if you’d been at the aquarium. Aren’t you and Vic bored in the hotel room all day?”

“I, uh,” I start, trying to wonder how I ended up essentially becoming the parent to an eight-year-old. “We’re on our honeymoon, Heather.” She wrinkles her nose at me and leans over to whisper something in Kara’s ear. They both giggle as they stare back at me, and I raise an eyebrow. “Do you want to fill me in on what’s going on?” I ask as Aaron chuckles and shuts the Bronco’s engine off.

“All I said was that you were probably kissing all over each other,” Heather quips, giving me this sassy little look that reminds me of, well, me. She really thinks she’s figured me and Vic out. God help her that she doesn’t ever understand us. I want her to spend her life with someone … normal. Painfully normal, really.

“Oh, you guessed it,” I say, and all three girls groan and roll their eyes as I open the door and hop out onto the sand-covered pavement. The wind swirls my hair around my face as I stare out at the nearly-empty beach with a peaceful sigh.

This is what we all needed: normalcy.

“There’s certainly a lot of sand here,” Oscar says, sitting on the hood of the Camaro in a black t-shirt and long, dark shorts. It’s so weird to see him wear anything but a suit; it always catches me off-guard. Remember how you saw him naked and vulnerable above you? How he made love to you and then ran off like a colossal prick? Did that catch ya off-guard, too, Bernie?

The girls take off past me, squealing and kicking off their shoes as Aaron struggles to keep up with them, yelling warnings about staying away from the water. I turn to Oscar with an angry fire burning in my belly.

“Yeah, it’s a beach,” I snap, drawing his attention around and over to me. It’s only been nine days since we ruined Aaron’s couch together; it feels like a fucking lifetime. And yet, I’m still furious over the whole situation. I know we’re both trying to pretend it didn’t happen, but I only know my own motivations for doing that: I’m embarrassed. That was an intimate moment to share with someone, and Oscar ruined it for me by running off and refusing to tell me what was wrong. “Aren’t you supposed to be the smart one? Because you sound fucking stupid right now.”

Oscar scowls at me, breaking that placid asshole look he enjoys wearing as a mask on his handsome face. I feel a spark inside at his expression though. I mean, it’s proof that he’s feeling something, right?

“You’re a cunt, Bernadette Blackbird. I’m assuming you’re aware of that?” he snaps back at me as Vic’s bike pulls up alongside the Camaro. Victor doesn’t hear what Oscar said to me, but as soon as he climbs off the Harley, he’s side-eying the both of us.

“Do I need to intervene in this shit?” he asks as he studies the pair of us with a look that’s one-part amusement, two-parts jealousy. “You two need to work through your crap, or we aren’t going to survive the rest of the school year.” Victor stands between us in holey jeans and a tight t-shirt that says Fuck You on the front of it. Very subtle. Add in his large statue, muscles, and ink, and he gets gawked at wherever he goes. I thought security might tackle him on his way out of the hotel this morning.

“We have nothing to work out,” Oscar lies, his tongue as slick as a snake’s. He slides off the hood and stands up, iPad tucked under his arm as per usual. Bet you wouldn’t leave your precious tablet alone on her period after coming inside of her, you nightmare of a man. “All is business as usual. We’re running nearly fifteen minutes ahead of schedule.”

“Nothing to work out?” I echo and Victor groans, sliding his hand over his face. “You bloodied your dick and ran, Oscar. I mean, what the hell is wrong with you?”

The way he looks at me, I’ve never been more certain that I was looking in the eyes of a person who was intent on committing murder. Hopefully, just not mine. Maybe he’s thinking of Mitch Charter or something?

After all, we left Prescott High a mess.

We left them cheering our destruction in the hallways.

We left a missing and bloodied Havoc Crew.

We left Kali’s smirking face and Billie’s whispered quips.

My fists clench at my sides and I force myself to take a deep breath.

“Ah, yes,” Oscar says as Vic scowls, clearly annoyed at having to discuss me fucking other guys on his honeymoon. Yet another atomic bomb waiting to explode and wash us all in emotional fallout: Vic seemed to be under the impression that I wouldn’t be having sex with anyone else after the wedding. “That’s right: you’re the type that gets emotional about sex.” He looks me straight in the face, but I can’t read anything in those gray eyes of his. The light catches on the lenses of his glasses, further shielding him from my scrutiny. “But rest assured, Mrs. Channing, that it meant nothing to me; I’ve already forgotten.”

Liar.

The word sings in my mind, bright and clear and sharp.

I narrow my eyes, but I don’t get the chance to respond because Vic does it for me.

“I told you that things would change after Bernadette and I were married.” Victor’s words are low and dark, drawing Oscar’s attention in an instant. “I meant it. This is your warning, Oscar. Don’t make me follow through with a threat.”

Oscar’s face darkens and tightens up as he returns Victor’s stare, all the while desperately trying to maintain his stoicism. He’s acting like this situation doesn’t bother him, but it’s breaking him into pieces. It’s written in the tense lines of his body, in the shape of his mouth, the way his knuckles turn white as he grips the tablet in stern claws by his side.

“Understood, boss.” His eyes flick my direction as he reaches up a tatted middle finger to push his glasses up his nose. “My apologies, Mrs. Channing. All I meant was that you needn’t worry about what happened between us on the couch ever happening again.” He smiles at me, and but his expression is hot with anger, and his lips are as sharp as a dagger.

I feel my spirit puncture and start to bleed from the attack.

“You're forgiven for today's transgressions, Montauk,” I purr back at him, stepping so close that when I pull in a breath, I smell cinnamon instead of salt water and sand. Oscar's stone-still in front of me, like he's managed to wrestle all those demons inside of him back into their cage. Impressive. “But you are not forgiven for fucking me on my period and running. You owe me an explanation.”

“I owe you nothing,” he breathes back, moving around me and taking off down the hill toward the picnic table where Hael and Callum are waiting. I watch him go, seething on the inside and wishing him ill with every subsequent breath.

“Jesus Christ, you two are going to put me in an early grave,” Victor grumbles, taking off down the path with the obvious intent that I follow after. With a sigh, I do, because as mad as I am at Oscar, I'm all-in for a life with Havoc.