Fallen Crest Home (Fallen Crest High #6)

Heather nudged my arm, leaning close. “That’s Jared Caldron. You need to watch out for him.”


I assessed. His hair was in a blond Mohawk, and he was a little shorter than Channing, so he’d be an inch or two below Mason’s height, too. His face was round, but weathered with a deep tan. He had some scars around his mouth and at the corners of his eyes. I didn’t want to think about where those had come from. He reminded me a bit of a troll I’d read about, but with a badass attitude. Sharp grey eyes smirked back at Channing. He held a 32-ouncer in his hand and wore a sleeveless and already dirtied T-shirt. It was baggy enough that as the wind moved past, it lifted the fabric and two pierced nipples peeked out. Ripped jeans completed the ensemble. Most of his friends wore something similar, and most of them were taller than this guy. A few were more muscled, but a couple were just heftier—with beer bellies. They had some girls with them, but I wasn’t paying attention to them.

“Why do I need to watch out?” I asked Heather. “Who is he?”

She was already close, but as the guy’s eyes moved to us, she leaned even closer. She lowered her voice as he watched us. “He was Budd’s best friend in high school.”

Channing spoke up, distracting Heather from whatever else she’d been about to add. “Move along, Caldron.” Channing shifted so he blocked the guy’s view of Heather and me. “Unless you want to start the fight early.”

“Get off it, Monroe.” The guy had a light voice, which surprised me, but he was definitely cocky and the leader of his group. “That’s Kade’s woman, isn’t it?”

I gulped. This is what Mason had warned me about.

“She’s with us, and it’s none of your business.”

Caldron snorted. “Yeah. Right. But good to know.”

“Move along. Now.”

The command came out softly. I shouldn’t have been able to hear it since Channing was a few feet in front of us with his back turned, but somehow the entire group heard. Channing’s friends seemed to become even more alert, as if it were a warning signal and the next word spoken might be their command to attack.

I found myself holding my breath. Maybe I should’ve left instead of waiting for Mason to come here.

“Yeah, yeah.” He moved forward a couple of steps, and his eyes found us again. He spoke to Channing. “But this ain’t high school any more. There’s no Brett to keep us in line, remember? You remember that, too.”

For a second time, Channing shielded us from the guy’s view. His arms hung loose by his sides, but he gripped the beer in his hand harder, starting to crumple the can into a ball. Then he stopped, like he was waiting for something else to happen.

Time seemed to stand still, though it was only a few seconds until Caldron grunted once and then moved away, still glancing over his shoulder at us. His friends followed, as well as the girls who were with them, laughing and almost tripping on their heels.

Heather shook her head. “Beth Clovers. She’s an idiot. Who wears hooker heels to walk around on grass, dirt, and mud?”

I didn’t answer. I was still watching Caldron and his friends. I followed until they were swallowed up by another group. I glanced to Channing. He had looked back at me, and I half expected some comment about how I shouldn’t have been there. Nothing came. His eyes flicked to Heather’s before one of his buddies said something. An easy smile came to his face, and he turned, punching his friend on the arm. Then all was forgotten.

The tense moment was gone.

“You need to stick like glue to me tonight,” Heather instructed.

I nodded. After seeing that, there was no way I’d risk even a trip to the bathroom alone. “Got it.”

“When’s your boy coming?”

That question came from one of Channing’s friends. I didn’t remember his name, but he was bald with two large flame tattoos that circled his head. I’d stared at the back of him before when we were moving through the crowd. The entire group seemed to be waiting for my response.

“I’m not sure, actually. He mentioned a meeting after work, but he was going to ditch out of it.”

“Well, give us a head’s-up, yeah? We’ll go meet him.”

“Word’s out now,” Channing added. “People know you’re here, so they’re going to be expecting him, too. Logan and Nate are both gone, right?”

I nodded. The phrase bad timing didn’t cover this. Fucked-up timing was more accurate. “He said he would try to find some others to come with him, but…” This was Mason. More than likely, he’d come alone because he wanted to be at my side.

Channing seemed to be on the same wavelength. “Text him. Tell him you want to know when he’s arriving.”

I nodded and took out my phone, but then I heard Mason’s voice next to me, coming up the side of the truck. “I’m here.”

And he wasn’t alone.

My mouth dropped. “Matteo?!”

Mason’s football teammate grinned back, running a hand over his shaved head. He was dressed almost the same as Caldron, with a white, sleeveless shirt over jeans, but that was where the similarities ended—no nipple rings and instead of looking like he’d been mudding all day, Matteo was clean and trimmer than the last time I saw him.

He grunted, slapping a hand on Mason’s back. “This one called me with perfect timing. I was about to board the plane for home, but he talked me into hanging out in the infamous Fallen Crest for a few weeks.” His dark eyes lingered on Heather, and he held his hand out. “Don’t know if we’ve met yet. I save this one’s life on the field.”

Mason laughed. “You would, if you weren’t too slow. You’re on the front line.”

“Whatever.” Matteo rolled his shoulders, seeming nonplussed. Two dimples winked back at Heather. “For real, my soul brotha connection must’ve been working both ways. Hello, friend of Sam’s that must be a friend of mine, too.” He stepped forward, his hand still extended.

I glanced at Channing, but he didn’t look like he cared. He was laughing with the rest of his friends. The reception was a lot less tense than it had been with Caldron. They knew Matteo wasn’t a threat, in any way, and a beat later, Heather confirmed it.

She looked at the hand, then turned to gaze at the crowd. “I think you might want to point that hand toward my boyfriend; his fighting is the main attraction tonight.”

“Oh.” Matteo withdrew his hand, looked around, and waved at Channing. “Hello, friend of Mason’s who I hope will be a friend of mine, too.” He jerked a thumb in Heather’s direction. “No disrespect. I’m a soul brotha here to help cover my man’s back, just off the field this time.”

Channing grinned, moving around a lawn chair. “No problem.” He nodded to Mason. “Just one?”

Mason lifted a shoulder, his eyes lingering on me. “It was last minute.”