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  My Sweet Bully

  Penny Wylder

  Copyright © 2020 Penny Wylder

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means without prior written permission of the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or businesses, organizations, or locales, is completely coincidental.

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  Contents

  Prologue

  1. Prairie

  2. Max

  3. Prairie

  4. Prairie

  5. Max

  6. Prairie

  7. Max

  8. Prairie

  9. Max

  10. Prairie

  11. Max

  12. Prairie

  13. Prairie

  14. Max

  Epilogue

  Books By Penny Wylder

  Prologue

  “Wait here.” He holds his hand out, and bounces it in the air, as if to show me where I need to stand.

  “Okay, I got it.” Raking a hand across my cheek, I scratch at the light stubble on my jaw. “I'll wait here.”

  Harlow twists, taking a step forward, then abruptly stopping. Spinning around, he squints his eyes, and snarls, “And keep your fucking eyes open. No bullshit, we can't fuck this up.” He points directly in my face, the bulbous nub of his finger almost crashing into my forehead.

  Ducking my head, I swat his hand away, and give him a shove backwards. “Fuck you, Asshole, I know what to do. I'm not fucking stupid.” My voice is low, challenging. I'm here because he wants help, I'm not here to be his bitch.

  He cocks a brow, curling his lip hard to one side. The look in his eyes is telling me this is serious, so I nod, assuring him with that single motion he can trust me.

  I've never given him a reason to doubt my loyalty, he doesn't need to doubt me now.

  Harlow moves suddenly, launching into a full sprint. He darts through the thick trees, and I watch him until he disappears into the darkness.

  On a desolate street, I stand still, doing the only thing he requested me to do, because we're brothers, and brothers have each others back's.

  There's no one on our side, no family to back us if we need it, no one to help. We only have each other. That's how it's been for years. Which is why I'm standing here right now, keeping an eye out for him.

  This is revenge, revenge he says is well deserved. There's no reason for me to question his motives. I don't need him to give me a reason.

  We're Ramon's, you don't fuck with the Ramon's. Period. The guy that fucked with my brother made a choice, now he has to pay. Simple solution to a simple problem. I just don't know what my brother has in mind, he didn't exactly give me the details of his plan.

  The sun is almost down completely, but I can still make out a few of the taller buildings from the city in the distance against the charcoal backdrop.

  The wind blows slightly, sending chills down my spine as it whips up my calves, and crawls across my skin. I shiver, tucking my neck into my jacket as I scan my surroundings.

  Looking left to right, there isn't a car in sight. It's quiet. Too quiet. An uneasy feeling sits in my gut as the wind gusts across my face.

  How long is this going to take him?

  Glancing up, I see the street light flicker a couple of times before it pops on, casting a glow that's barely enough to make a full sized shadow.

  I feel skittish, looking around in every direction. There's nothing, not a damn soul, and I know it. I just can't shake this uneasy feeling, like I'm being watched.

  Checking over my shoulder one more time, I sit down on the side walk, and stretch my legs out in front of me. There's a pit in my stomach, it's heavy, making me sick. Something bad is going to happen, I can feel it.

  BOOM!

  The world around me shakes, the sound so deep it vibrates my ribs, and makes me hold my breath. The pressure in my chest is heavy, spreading down my body, and through my legs.

  Holy shit!

  Jumping to my feet, I look in the direction that Harlow ran, and all I see is red and orange embers as they float through the air, disappearing like fireworks in the sky.

  Shit! Fuck!

  What the hell happened?

  Raking a hand through my hair, I grip my jaw and start to move in the direction of the flames. All I'm thinking about is my brother. If he's hurt, if he's in danger, I have to help him.

  I'm about to take off to find him, when the sound of feet on the road causes me to stay still. They slow to a stop, and I look back over my shoulder.

  There's a girl in skin tight leggings, a tank-top and running shoes, her eyes huge as saucers as she looks past me into the trees.

  Orange and red flames lick across her pupils, making her eyes seem even larger. They dance back and forth, watching the fire as it spears into the sky like a Roman fucking candle.

  She hasn't noticed me yet. My nerves start to go wild, sweat is pouring down my temples as I stand like a deer in headlights. My feet are cemented to the ground, anchoring in, tethered to a promise I made my brother.

  I won't fucking leave him, but now I can't go save him either.

  Her gaze shifts as if she senses she isn't alone. Her eyes move down, slow, precise, until they stop. Fear simmers in the background of her giant orbs, almost as bright as the flames themselves.

  We're staring at each other. The fear I see in her eyes is nothing like I've ever seen before. The girl's arms dangle at her sides, and I can tell instantly she's young, probably my age. Her chest rises and falls, taking in quick gulps of air.

  Run. Get the fuck out of here!

  I want to scream at her to go before my brother gets back. Maybe I want to protect her, maybe I want to protect him, I'm not really sure.

  Opening my mouth, I try to yell, but my throat is too dry, and I can't form the words on my tongue.

  She studies my face, her gaze shifting all around me, and I can see her taking note of every feature.

  My legs itch to take off, eager to burst out from underneath me. Yet I stay, standing still, halfheartedly trying to convince myself she still hasn't actually noticed me.

  The musty smell of smoke trickles between the trees, making its way out to the street. I can hear crackling and popping as the tree tops ignite from whatever the hell blew up.

  Harlow comes flying out of the woods, his face lit up with joy, putting an end to the staring match between the girl and myself.

  He smiles, lips pulling back to expose stained teeth, and his chipped front tooth.

  Thank fucking God.

  I breathe a sigh of relief. Seeing him settles my nerves. At least I know he's alright, and not waiting for my help. Sirens start to blare in the distance, the blue and red lights reflect off the sky.

  Harlow ignores the impending trucks and first responders on the way to put out the blaze. “Did you fucking see that?” he asks, slowing down as he reaches my side. Harlow grins, leaning over for a second to catch his breath.

  I'm about to speak, when the sirens scream louder, causing my brother to cut me off. “Come on, we got to get out of here.” He jerks his body upright, oblivious to the fact we're not alone.

  “Harlow.” My eyes move back to her. I can only say his name. I can't look at him. We're caught, she sees us, she's watching us, she knows what we look like.

  “Wh—” he starts to say until he follows my eyes, and they land on the girl across the street. Harlow frowns, growling under his breath. “Go, go, go,” he demands, his voice thick and grainy.

  Giving m
e a shove, it's the boost I need to get my legs working, and my brain up and running. We both take off at full speed, crossing lines that have obvious borders. Cutting through yards, and down alley's, jumping fences, and crushing gardens.

  When we finally come to a stop, we're on Ginger Hill, about a half mile away. The fire engines roar as the sky lights up like a burning Christmas tree. The long arms of the flames whip between the treetops, nipping at leaves.

  “Fuck!” Harlow calls out, raking his fingers through his hair and down his face. “Who the fuck was that? Did you recognize her?”

  “I don't know,” I say between breaths. Bending over, I rest my palms on my knees, trying to slow down my lungs.

  “Damn! God fucking damn it!” My brother paces in a small circle, scrubbing his jaw. “She saw us, the bitch saw us.”

  “Yeah, but I don't know who she is, so she can't know us.” I'm trying to calm him down because he looks like he's about to lose his shit. “Harlow, I'm sure we're good, don't worry about her.”

  He lets out a slow breath, dropping his arms to his sides, and peering at me. He's quiet, thinking about what I said.

  “You're right.” Shaking his head in agreement, he turns to face the treeline. “Pretty, isn't it?” Harlow crosses his arms over his chest as a smile runs from ear to ear, and his eyes elude this sense of proudness.

  But I don't feel happy. I don't feel excited and pleased with myself. I hate what I'm feeling. I'm not sure what just happened, and I have no idea what my brother did. But I can see the result burning in the distance.

  “The fire?” I ask.

  “Yeah, I mean it was an accident. That wasn't how I meant it to go,” he says, holding up his palm as he looks at me quickly, feigning an apologetic frown. Turning back to the fire, his smile thickens. “But you got to admit, fire is a beautiful thing.”

  I cock a brow, my mouth hanging open slightly. Is he really serious?

  It's not that I disagree with him, fire is an incredible, destructive force.

  But how do you enjoy an accidental burn that big?

  Is anyone hurt? What did he do exactly?

  All of a sudden a bright light shines on us, and the static of a speaker catches us off guard.

  “Don't move! Put your hands in the air!”

  Harlow and I stand still for a second, neither one of us reacting to the orders being shouted. I'm frozen, unable to really grasp that this is actually happening.

  Shit. This isn't fucking good.

  “Hands in the air, and drop to your knees!” A second light pops on, blinding me.

  Blinking rapidly, my hands go up, and I'm on my knees without pause. The two cops are hidden behind their car doors, guns drawn on us.

  What the fuck did my brother do?

  Harlow growls, a dark and evil growl, from deep within his chest. “Don't say a fucking word, understand me, Max? Lawyer up, don't fucking say shit!”

  My brother is shoved to the ground, and I hear the metal cuffs as they're latched around his wrists. His eyes turn to slits as two cops yank him to his feet, and put him in the back of the car.

  Our eyes connect as my arms are pulled down to the small of my back, and cuffs dig hard into my wrists. The metal burns my skin as I'm torn to my feet, and led to the back of the other cruiser.

  This isn't how it's supposed to go. Not like this. Harlow said it would be easy, that we'd be in and out. Now, I have no idea what's coming next.

  But, I do know one thing, shit is about to change.

  1

  Prairie

  “Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you—”

  The words fade into the back of my ears, soft and faint as I stare off into dancing orange flames. They flicker and pop, moving back and forth. I'm drawn in, like a moth to the bulb outside the door on a muggy summer night. Mesmerized.

  My heart starts to beat faster and faster as the flames move with each breath I exhale. The tips wave side to side, chasing the oxygen, and I can suddenly see the boys. Vivid, like a movie.

  Both their faces burn in the candle, just like that night when the sky lit up with red and yellow flashes, and black smoke poured into the air.

  It started out as one, just one boy, with one set of intimidating eyes. They were the biggest, greenest eyes I'd ever seen. He looked terrified of everything all at once; the fire, the sounds of crackling and combustion—of me across the street. The fear as our gaze met melts down his face, and his jaw drops open wide.

  Another boy runs up beside him, the second boy looked older, but not by much. Taller, He was wearing a big smile on his face at first, and a look of satisfaction as his eyes scan the sky behind him. That smile, that smile isn't built on anything good. I had never seen such darkness in a smile before. It scared me instantly.

  His smile fades quickly as he follows the first boy's glare, and spots me where I stand. The corners of his lips curve down, and rage begins to spill from him like water from a fountain. I can feel it from where I'm standing, the way it grows on him like mold, spreading quickly.

  It sends a chill down my spine as his eyes hold me in place. I can't move, my legs are anchored to the ground as if he's holding my ankles.

  We all stand still, twenty feet away from each other, and no one says a word. It couldn't have been more than a second, but it feels like forever.

  Sirens echo through the trees, moving closer and closer as red and blue lights start to mix with the orange flames, ending our unconventional introduction.

  The angry boy shoves the other one, and they run off into the darkness together, disappearing until we meet face to face again in the courtroom.

  “Happy birthday dear Prairie, happy birthday to you!” The room explodes around me, bringing me back to the present, erasing their faces as I force a smile, and blow out the candles.

  My mother grips my shoulders from behind, leaning in and resting her cheek against mine. “I can't believe my baby is eighteen.” Kissing my cheek, she playfully cries in my ear. “Eighteen, my heart hurts, but I'm excited for you, I really am.”

  “Thanks, Mom.” I'm doing my best to be happy and show my appreciation for the small party my parents have put together for me.

  There's a small bunch of pink and gold balloons tied to two of the chairs at the kitchen table. A banner is hanging across the entrance that says, 'Happy Eighteenth Birthday!' A small square cake is sitting in the center of the table, with a giant pink eighteen and gold flowers. Next to the cake is a gift bag with a bow and curly ribbons, and tissue paper poking out of the top.

  My parents mean well, I know they do, and I'm grateful, don't get me wrong, but it just isn't the same. Things are different.

  My dreams are plagued by that night. By the fire. By the look on the older boy's face when I pointed him out in the courtroom. I wake up at night in cold sweats, with my heart pounding, gasping for air. It's the same every time. I can't breathe, it feels like I'm drowning, and for a brief moment, I actually think I am.

  Then I open my eyes.

  “Well, did you make a wish?” my father asks.

  I wish I never went out that night. . .

  “Of course I did.” Giving him an innocent smile, I fiddle with the napkin in front of me.

  “And? What did you wish for?” Leaning over across the back of the chair, he swipes his finger through the frosting on the side of the cake.

  Grimacing, my mother swats my father's hand. “Get out of there. And don't tell him, Prairie, unless you don't want your wish to come true,” she says, tapping my shoulder as she walks around the table and starts to cut the cake. “You get first pick. What piece do you want, honey?”

  “I don't care. Any piece is fine.”

  My mother passes me a small square, hands my father one, and takes one for herself. Sitting down across the table from me, her eyes are steady. “So, school starts this week. Are you excited?”

  Shrugging a shoulder, I lick the frosting off the back of my fork. “Should I be?”

  “Come
on, you must be a little bit excited. I hear they have a good track team.” My father takes a big bite of cake and tries to keep talking. “They won state the last two years.”

  “Really Tim?” she rolls her eyes and cocks a brow. “We can barely understand you.” My mother flashes puffed cheeks as she pokes my father. “At least swallow first.”

  My father bounces his shoulders up and down as he finishes chewing, giving me a wink.

  Giggling, I answer him. “Yeah, I heard that too.” Pushing my fork lightly against my cake, I take a small bite. I know I don't sound excited at all, but it's hard to be excited when all I can focus on is one thing.

  One, unforgettable, nightmare creating, life changing, thing. I'm not the same. I'm not sure I'll ever be.

  My parents look at each other, and I can see their concern. They know what I'm going through, but they don't understand what I'm feeling. No matter how much they say they get it, they don't, and they never will.

  Reaching across the table. My mother touches the top of my hand. Her eyes soften as she gives me a thin lipped smile. “I know this move hasn't been easy on you. You've had a rough start, I get it, but it's your last year, Prairie, make the best of it. Don't let what happened get to you, you did the right thing. Remember what Dr. Marcos told you, you're not the one to blame. You did nothing wrong, they did.”

  Nodding, I pull the cake in closer and start to eat. My mother's right. I wasn't the one at fault, I hadn't done anything wrong. I need to stop blaming myself for the choices of others. Those two boys lit that car on fire, not me.

  I've known this since it happened, but no one else saw the look in that boy's eyes. No one else could feel the hate I did in that older boy's stare. It wasn't natural. It was raw and feral, like a rogue coyote with rabies.