Page 86 of June First
Flash.
Brant moves forward like lightning and plants a hard kiss to my forehead, his thumbs bruising my jaw as he grips me tight. So tight it almost hurts. Then he says in a ragged, broken voice, “I’ll always protect you, June.”
He lets go, and I nearly stumble back from the loss of him.
My breaths come quick and unsteady, my legs growing shaky as I listen to him storm down the staircase to the lower level. The front door slams shut, and I still stand in the center of his room, my hand to my heart, and my forehead still tingling from the weight of his kiss.
June.
Not Junebug.
He said he’d always protect me…but he has no clue that he’s the one striking me down.
17
FIRST DIBS
JUNE, AGE 17
I’d assumed we were going to a schoolmate’s party—maybe Marty, the party king, or even Hayden who will occasionally host something at his parents’ sprawling farmhouse.
Imagine my surprise when we pull into Wyatt Nippersink’s driveway. His tiny little shack of a house is bursting with so many people, I can hardly move inside, gripping my red Solo cup as if it’s my only lifeline.
Celeste pops up behind me, startling me because I didn’t hear her approach over the cacophony of beer-pong celebrations, rap music, and belching. “June, there you are!”
“Here I am.” My smile probably looks painted on. “How long did you want to stay?”
“Whenever Tony wants to leave, since he’s our ride. I don’t have to be at my babysitting gig until eleven tomorrow.” She chugs down her cup of mysterious red punch that matches mine. “Are you cool with that? I’m sure he’ll take you home early if you need to go.”
I worry my lip between my teeth. Truthfully, I only came out tonight to mingle with friends and let off some steam. But I hardly know anybody here aside from Celeste and her older brother, Tony…and Wyatt, of course, but he’s far from what I’d consider a friend.
Celeste looks so glamorous tonight, dressed in a tight-fitting black minidress, her dirty-blond hair curled over both shoulders. Her lipstick is bright red, enhancing the smile she’s wearing.
Twirling the cup between my fingers, I shake my head. “Nah, I’m fine. Whenever you want to leave works for me.”
We chitchat for a bit, our voices shrill over the resounding racket of party noise. That’s where Wyatt finds us, huddled in a corner, giggling and sipping our punch, a few minutes later. “Juney,” he drawls, a wicked gleam in his eye. It always seems to be there when he looks at me. “Big brother let you out of his sight long enough to come play with me, eh?”
I pivot to face him, one hand instinctually tugging down the hem of my denim skirt. He doesn’t notice, though, because his gaze is locked on the swell of my breasts poking out from my halter top. “I’m here with Celeste and Tony. It’s good to see you, though.”
“The feeling is very mutual.” Wyatt snatches a pitcher of punch that’s been discarded on a coffee table and moves toward me, pouring it into my partially full cup. Liquid splashes up at me, misting my hand. He glances over at Celeste. “Need a refill, honey?”
She holds out her cup. “Fill ’er up.”
I take a delicate sip of the punch, wincing when it coats my tongue. This batch tastes a lot stronger than the last.
Better than beer, at least.
“Tell you what, Juney. Have a few more glasses of my magic juice, then come find me, yeah?” Wyatt sends a wink my way, shoving back his mop of auburn hair.
While Wyatt isn’t terrible looking—he has a decent build, perfectly straight teeth, and pretty eyes when they aren’t leering at me—there’s something off-putting about him. Something slimy.
It’s almost as if I’ve always had his attention, even as a young girl. I recall the day at the frozen pond when he’d pushed me onto the ice. I know he was only being dumb and immature at the time and that he hadn’t intentionally tried to hurt me or anything, but he was certainly old enough to know better.
And he was old enough to not look at me the way that he had.
I was only twelve years old at the time, yet I’d still felt the prickle of unease when he pinned his eyes on me. A threat lurked inside his golden gaze.
Bristling under his perusal, I simply nod then take a few more gulps of the cocktail. “Sure, okay.”