Where There's a Will (Lost Boys, #1)

by Jessie Walker

For those who didn’t make it ’til morning.

Grief was like a fever, she said. I just had to let it run its course. Sweat it out, just sweat it out, baby.

I tell myself a lot of things these days.

There’s only so much time a person’s allowed to grieve before it becomes an inconvenience, I’ve come to learn.

Before the clock speeds up, and the world goes on spinning without you, you either pull yourself out in time to catch up, or you get left behind. That’s just the way it goes.

Waylon McAllister might as well be a stranger to me now, but he wasn’t always. And some part of me still feels a sense of loyalty to that boy I’d once move fucking mountains for. The boy I took it upon myself to protect, only for my actions to shoot me point-blank in the ass.

He takes a step back, then another, not taking his attention off me. “That implies you want to say no, which I don’t think you do.” His grin widens. “You just think you should.”

I’m not the happiest chum in the world—far fucking from it—but this song is just plain sad. And not in a catchy “let me sob into my pillow and listen to sad music to make me sadder” sad, but in like an “I want to fling myself off a bridge because life is meaningless” kind of sad.

“Don’t even start with me, Waylon James. I’m positively homicidal today.”

Plus, the girl thrives on being contrary. If telling her what she doesn’t want to hear motivates her to kick this assignment’s ass, then so be it.

I quickly and distantly catalog all of this, but it’s his face—his face—that I can’t look away from.

He also looks completely unaffected by this little reunion. And that... Well, that pisses me off.

I arch a brow. “Doesn’t ring a bell.”

BOY

“I was curious. It’s been a long time since I’ve been here. Figured I’d take a look around. Plus”—he sweeps his gaze over the empty bar, taking it all in—“I always did find this place...” His eyes land on me, and he smirks. “Charming.”

Now Mason’s the one glaring at us. “Seriously, guys? You can’t just play nice for once?” “I’m always nice,” I say at the same time my cousin deadpans, “No.”

I turn to Mason. “Not anymore. We haven’t seen or heard from him since we were eleven years old. For all we know, he could be a fucking child rapist⁠—” “Seriously?” Will says flatly.

WAYLON

And I’d rather have no expectations of me whatsoever, thank you very much. Taking action means taking responsibility, and I just ain’t about that life.

lol

It’s official. If I wasn’t the world’s biggest asshole before, I am now.

“And for the record, you could always speak up if you have an issue. I’m not a fucking mind reader.” “No, but you do have at least two brain cells, right? Maybe try rubbing them together sometime and see what happens.”

“Let’s just say I know what it’s like to feel like all your shit’s on display. Makes it really fucking hard to move on when no one else lets you forget it.”

I’m also pretty sure I spotted a tongue ring winking out when he was spewing all that venom at me. Call me a fucking masochist, but that only heightened his sex appeal.

Too bad he hates my guts, or I’d see just how far I could push him before I had him on his knees. Melting under my touch.

hot

I let him down. I broke my promise. I ruined us. But here’s the kicker⁠— He ruined me first. Maybe, just maybe, this is my chance to fix that.

“Why do I put up with you?” “Because I’m the light of your life. The wind beneath your wings. The⁠—” “—gum on my shoe. The hair in my food. The turd on my doorstep...”

Sad. I look so goddamn sad all the time. And fuck that especially. I don’t want to be sad anymore.

Waylon taps the mic a couple times, waiting for the crowd to quiet. Smirking, he presses his mouth to where his fingers just were. “Hi.” Annnndddddd there goes my boxers. And probably every pair of panties in the room.

And then it finally happens. Just as he belts from the deepest trenches of his soul, begging for us to not let the days go by, does his gaze finally, finally finds mine. Flitting over me. Then back at me. Then into me.

He doesn’t fumble. Doesn’t miss a beat. If anything, his words grow deeper. Headier. Just...more.

But then, it’s over. He’s squeezing his eyes shut, and time’s speeding up, and I’m no longer the center of his fucking world. And it hurts. It hurts. How does it fucking hurt this bad?

Tossing the paper towel into the trash bin, I finally turn around. I force a small smile and lift my eyebrow. Gesturing magnanimously to the small space, I say, “As you were.”

LMAO

Let the record also show: It had nothing to do with his biceps.

Not once breaking our stare-down, I move both sticks to one hand as I lift the other. Spreading my thumb and forefinger into a wide V, I point them at my hardened gaze before jamming them his way. I’m watching you. And what does the fucker do? He grins. Like a full, megawatt smile that is white and blinding in the shadows.

At this point, everyone knows better than to question why I do anything ninety-nine percent of the time.

I blink as my eyes adjust, and bring the bottle of Jack to my mouth. Across from me, I notice Will’s brought his beer up to his at the same time. We both pause. I narrow my eyes, and he cocks his brow. I don’t watch how his throat works with each swallow. I swear I don’t. Not at all.

“Well. Hell’s where all the fun’s at, isn’t it?”

“What are you doing?” I blurt out. I feel everyone’s attention grind to a halt and hone in on me. Mason pauses a few feet away, and my cousin murmurs my name. It sounds like a warning. But it’s too late. It’s too fucking late. Will tilts his head, dirty blond hair falling over his eye. “Going home.” This isn’t your fucking home, I want to shout. “No,” I say stiffly. Stupidly. I wave a hand at the girl next to me and gently pry her off me as I stand. “It was just a one-time thing, dude. She’s all yours.”

this is killing me lmao

She shrugs, her smile not dimming in the least. “I can make an exception. Can’t you?” I blink. Then I point at Will. “What about him?” Why the hell does my voice sound like that? Her face scrunches up in a humored sort of bafflement. “He’s gay.” What? She’s shaking her head and looking at me like I’m the world’s biggest idiot.

LMAO

Completely solidifies as my brain struggles to compute what she just implied, only to reach a full-blown system error.

youre so extra lmao

Will sighs. “It’s fine, Kate. He⁠—” Ding ding ding. “Kate,” I croak. “Your name’s Kate.” I latch on to this fact like a buoy in a night storm. She jerks her head around and scowls. “Are you kidding me? You forgot⁠—” “I don’t do repeats,” I say softly. “Sorry.”

WAYLON

“Get out,” Shawn says flatly. I stiffen just as Mason sighs from behind me. “Shawn.” “Are you serious?” Kate asks, eyes blazing. Shawn’s tone remains scarily blank. “Do I look like I’m kidding?”

yall doing that girl so crazy

Chewing on the inside of my cheek, I consider my options for all of two seconds before grabbing a chair. I twist it around and straddle it backward. “So. Are you guys always this dramatic, or is this just your way of welcoming me to town?”

“I’d say no,” Mason says slowly, his eyes squinting with the beginnings of a smile, “but that would probably be a lie.” He shoots his moody guitarist a look.Why do I get the feeling I just passed some kind of test?

I arch a brow. “I’m thinking Waylon doesn’t want me here. Gay or not.”

If there’s anything I’ve learned in the last year, it’s that there’s always more to the story. Nothing’s ever as simple as it seems. And more than not, we only see what we want to see.

Toto, I’ve a feeling we’re not in Philly anymore.

My mouth twitches. “Too much?” “You’re a real dick, you know that?” he grits out. I arch a brow. “Pot, kettle.”

I tilt my head. “You make it a habit trying to spook unsuspecting passers-by, or am I just the lucky exception?” He mumbles under his breath, and I pick up words like “bane” and “existence.”

He blinks and looks down at me with a scrunched look about his face. “That’s not a word.” I grin. ”What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as⁠—” “Seriously?” I wink. “You’re the one who called out to me from your balcony, Juliet.”

“Did you picture my fist breaking your teeth?” he says through his teeth. “’Cause that’s looking more and more likely by the second.” My mouth widens into a grin. “Are you always this violent when you flirt?”

The railing creaks loudly under his fingers, and he flinches as if he’s only just realizing how far he’s leaning forward. I raise my hands. “Easy, tiger.” I trail my eyes over the rust-flaked contraption. “You don’t need to literally throw yourself at me. I’m more than willing.”

LMAO