Fallen Crest Forever (Fallen Crest High #7)

My eyebrows went up at that.

“You know what I mean. You were protecting. That’s what you do. Sam knew who you were when she fell in love with you. She signed up for it. She can’t claim ignorance now and back out. That’s not right. If she’s scared, that’s another thing, but she can’t blame you. You’re being you. None of us are saints. That’s for sure, but it could’ve been worse.”

I shook my head. “He had a gun, Nate.”

“Yeah,” he clipped out, jerking forward. His eyes were blazing once again. “And the problem would be to ignore what happened. You’re not ignoring it. Neither is Sam. You’re both doing what’s right, but you don’t have to change. You already have.”

“What do you mean?”

“Not being scared, that would’ve been wrong. Acting like it was no big deal. Pretending it was all him, and not you or us. Not realizing how close you and Sam came to your lives being threatened. All of that would’ve been wrong. You guys aren’t doing any of that. You took notice. You’re acknowledging it. You don’t want it to ever happen again. You’re scared it could. That’s the right thing you’re doing. You’ve learned that you don’t want this to repeat again, and my guess is that it never will. You’ll read the signs. You’ll know when you’re going too far. You’ll rely on the rest of us too. I’m here. Logan’s here. We’re all here. No one’s leaving. It’s never just you. Ever. You can trust us. If you don’t see the line, we will. Trust us. Trust Sam. Trust yourself. You don’t have anything more to repent. You already have. You get that, right?”

Goddamn. I felt tears in the corner of my eye.

I scowled at him. “If you make me cry, I’ll punch you in the face.”

He barked out a laugh. “You do that, you’d have to carry me back down. You’d probably knock me out.”

“I’d call Logan. He’d figure out how to get you back on the ground.”

“Fuck.” He grimaced, some of the blood draining from his face. “He’d probably lower me down with a rope tied around my waist. He’d get me killed.”

“But it’d be on me because I punched you in the first place.”

He laughed, and I joined in.

I rubbed a hand over my forehead. “You’re right. My brother would kill you, somehow.”

“Speaking of death,” Nate looked over his shoulder and down to the ground. “Can we please leave this thing? Logan’s batshit crazy for coming up here whenever he does.”

I stifled a small shudder and stood. “Let’s go.” Once we were heading down, I asked, “Where is Logan?”

Nate was ahead of me and he tossed back over his shoulder, “Said something about picking Taylor up. She went out with some girls and got drunk.”

“Girls?” I paused, mid-step.

Sam?





SAMANTHA


Kapow!

I hopped, threw my hand out in a karate chop, and let out a half-growl/half-gurgle. Then I snapped up my leg.

“Uh . . .” Heather traded looks with Taylor. Both were holding back grins. “Whatcha doing, Sam?”

“I’m karate-chopping your ass.” And I leaped in a circle, my hand out in another chop! before I raised my knee. I pretended to take someone’s head in my hands and rammed them down on my knee. “This is what I’m going to do to Faith Shaw if I see her on a bad night.” I swung my arms around in a wide circle, then brought them together as if I were praying. As a snarl formed on my mouth, I shoved my hands out, palms flat. “And I’ll break her nose, just like that.”

I was panting.

I frowned. That didn’t make sense.

I was drunk. With that realization, I lifted one leg, my arms to the side like I was going to do the crane kick move from The Karate Kid. “And hi-ya!” I smiled at them. “Did you hear that? I just dislocated her shoulder, all with one move.”

“Okay.” Heather moved around me out the door. “Bring those fighting moves this way. You’re holding up traffic.”

Taylor had left the group when we decided to leave. I had to run to the bathroom, and when I came back, Heather said Taylor had called a car for us and was waiting outside. Courtney and Grace were giggling at me, but I didn’t care. Each move I made, they erupted in more laughter, their hands trying to hold it in. I didn’t know why they tried.

They weren’t the only ones watching. I declared after dancing that I needed more zen in my life. I was going to make Mason take yoga with me, but I couldn’t practice any positions on the nightclub’s floor—because disgusting—so I turned to my own rendition of tai chai. Heather said it was tai chi, but she was wrong. It was chai, just like the tea. I was adamant, and then that turned into my stealth ninja moves.

Each step I took out of the club was a ninja move. I was just through the doors.

We’d started ten minutes ago.

“Sorry.” I heard Heather say to someone just behind me.

“No, no. This is entertaining as hell,” an amused guy responded. “I think I reached my black belt just watching her.”

“Hi-ya!” I leaped again, rounding back on whoever was behind me, and I pretended to ram my elbow into his chest.

Two guys were there, smiling and looking me over approvingly. The first one, who looked a little like Mason, smirked and stepped even closer. If I shifted an inch, my elbow really would’ve been pressed against his chest.

“What’s your fighting name?” he asked.

I paused, frowning. This didn’t feel right.

A door slammed behind us, and Heather cursed under her breath.

“Ninja Sam,” I said, a death warning on the tip of my tongue. But three things happened then.

First, the guys looked over my shoulder and paled, stepping back. Then my hair stood on end, and finally, a strong and masculine arm wrapped around my waist. It lifted me and threw me over a shoulder. My mind considered struggling, but my body was already melting. It recognized its mate.

“She’s mine,” Mason growled.

He carried me across the sidewalk and into the opened back door of Logan’s Escalade. I glimpsed the yellow, then Logan’s smirking face before Mason climbed into the backseat and lifted me onto his lap.

“Hi, Logan.” I waved a hand.

His eyes met mine in the mirror, but he only shook his head and waited until the rest of the girls got in. Once the last door was shut, he took off, and I curled into Mason’s arms and rested my head against his chest.

I looked up at him. “What are you doing here?”

His arms tightened around me. “Logan got a call to pick you up. I made him pick me up first.”

“Yeah?”

I smiled at him, and I knew I probably looked ridiculous—wasted and dreamy—but I didn’t care. I reached up and touched his chin, his very strong and hard chin with a dimple in it, and I let out a sigh.

“Thank you for coming.” We were broken up, but I didn’t care at that moment.

There was a lot I didn’t care about, but none of that was Mason. I was all sorts of caring about him.