I sometimes wonder if he was always like this, or if perhaps when my mom was alive, he was a different man. She died when I was two, so I don’t remember the time she was alive, and my dad refuses to talk about that time. He won’t even tell me stories about her, and he got rid of most of her stuff, except for a few photos. All I know is that she gave birth to me, had the same blonde hair as me, and died right after she gave birth to my younger sister, Harlow, who unfortunately still lives with my father, although she stays over here as much as she can.

“Stop by the diner after school and pick up the information on him. Text me when you’re heading there so I don’t have to wait around, but be vague about your word choice—don’t use anything incriminating. And don’t be too late. I have a salon appointment later.” She continues to back away, lifting her hand and waggling her fingers at me. Then her gaze drifts to something over my shoulder and the corners of her lips tug downward.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Jax’s voice sails over my shoulder as he steps up beside me.

I feel a bit better having him there, and I hate that I’m that way. Hate that I’m a coward when it comes to Diane. Plus, Jax can be a scary mothereffer when he wants to be. He’s a softy at heart, though he’d try to kick my ass if I ever told anyone that. I never would. My friends and I have worked hard at creating the façade that we portray to everyone else outside of our circle. We’re only who we really are when we’re only around each other. To everyone else, we appear cold, collected, and in control of everything. It’s the best way to not get screwed over, which happens a lot when you come from wealthy, powerful families. Jax, Zay and I learned from a young age that people will use us if we let them. We don’t. Not anymore.

“I came here to give you details on a job you’ve been assigned to,” Diane tells him. “Hunter can inform you.”

Unlike with me, she doesn’t toy with Jax, turning away and hurrying toward her car.

“Please tell me she’s kidding,” Zay says as he steps up beside Jax.

I sigh heavily as I step outside to head to school, like I was planning to before I ran into the wicked witch. “Unfortunately, she’s not. At least the job doesn’t sound too awful.”

Jax’s cocks a brow as he walks out behind me. “Anything that has to do with our fathers is bad. Besides, we have our own jobs we need to take care of.”

“I know,” I mutter, dragging my fingers through my hair and sighing.

Zay sighs, too, as he walks out and shuts the front door behind him. “What’s the job?”