by A. J. Logan
Hauling ass down the stairs, I’m not so lucky this time as my father appears at the bottom of the staircase.
“I didn’t know you were here.”
“Shocking,” I mumble, pushing past him. He reaches for me, knocking the box out of my hand, causing the dream catcher to tumble to the floor. Hurriedly, I snatch it off the floor, jamming it back into the box.
“Oh, is that a gift for someone who is not your girlfriend?”
“No.” More like a gift from someone who claims to hate me.
His hand harshly grips my elbow, trapping me in place. I go stiff, looking at him as he says, “I wasn’t done speaking to you. Have some respect, boy.”
Jerking my arm out of his grasp, I look down at his feet then back up to his repulsive glare. “Which part should I respect, exactly? The shitty father who’s never around or the shitty husband whose wife would rather be dead than married to him?”
Bracing myself, I go rigid though I see his fist coming at my jaw. When he makes contact, knuckles slamming into my face, I remain tense, unmoving. He grips my shirt, ramming me back against the wall as I keep my glare fixed on him. His fists don’t hurt. I can take a punch better than he can take reality.
His face reddens as his hands cling to my shirt. “You no-good little shit. Blame me all you want but she was picking death over you too.”
“I wish it’d been you, not her. You face down in a puddle of your own blood, barely hanging on to life.” The thought that I’d attempted to put out of my mind a million times over leaves my lips easily. Even if I don’t want to think it—because it makes me as dreadful of a person as the man before me—I still say the words.
His hands slowly release my shirt and he takes a step back with shock on his face that is quickly covered with anger. “After everything I’ve sacrificed for you, everything I’ve provided to make a better life for you and your fucking ungrateful mother, this is the thanks I get.”
“You haven’t provided any of it, your father has. Otherwise, you would’ve kicked both Mom and me out on our asses long ago.”
“This is my house—”
“Then why is Lawrence Bass on the deed?” I relish the shock on his face at mention of my grandfather’s name. The same name that is on every document or anything of worth that my father claims to own. “How many times did your daddy bail you out of debt before he took over all of your finances? He hasn’t gone into details, yet, but I’m guessing it was more than a few times for him to take such drastic measures.”
My father rubs a hand over his face as he looks away then back to me. “That’s between my father and I, and none of your concern.”
“For now, right? Is that why you were so pissed when you found out I’d be inheriting Lawrence Bass Industries along with the privilege of writing your allowance checks?”
“You’re a bigger joke than my old man if you think that’ll ever come to pass, that there’ll ever be a day where you are in control of my money.” A sinister gleam flashes across his face. It could be delusion, or it could be something graver. Either way, I’m comforted by the fact that Lawrence Bass Industries will go to anyone except my father.
“Don’t worry. I’ll allow you plenty of travel expenses so you stay as far away from here as possible.” At first, I’d questioned my grandpa’s decision, now I see why he’d prefer it in anyone else’s hands. Everything Richard Bass touches turns to shit. Did I inherit that from him? Everything I do seems to be wrong, but I never let that stop me. The box I hold in my hand containing a stupid dream catcher is perfect proof of that. And I’m about to go make it worse as I push off the wall, casually walking out of the room.
“It’ll never be far enough,” my father says to my back, insisting on one last jab.
“Agreed.” I give him a smirk, feeling my busted lip that is more than likely dripping blood. But it’s fine. One day he will be far away, and it’ll stay that way. At least that’s my wish.
I drop into the NSX, tossing the box onto the passenger seat, and speed away from the house that will hopefully be empty when I return.
6
Victoria
After the never-ending day at school, the only thing I wanted to do was get home, relax, and forget all about it. It’s evident that isn’t going to happen when, upon driving up to my house, I immediately note the NSX parked outside the garage. I have half a mind to just turn around and leave, but I’m not going to let him run me out of my own house. He’d already controlled every other aspect of my day. Even my swim time was cut short because of his ridiculous antics, and I’m sure he’ll be in the gym just long enough to keep me out of there too. On second thought, I need more time in the pool. He can go bromance with my brother and leave me the hell alone.
Thankfully, the coast is clear when I enter the kitchen. Grabbing a bottle of water out of the fridge, I head for my room. I have hope that all will go well, there’s no sign of Elliot anywhere. Until I open my bedroom door. There he’s perched, right on the edge of my bed.
Stepping into the room, I stand to the side of the door I hold open, and point to the hallway. “Get out.”
His head lifts up, eyes meeting mine, and his usual arrogance is nowhere to be found. Instead, there’s a defeated look, fully accented by a bloodied, swollen lip.
Against my better judgment, I shut the bedroom door, walk over, and stop a few feet in front of him as his eyes stay intent on me. “What happened, Elliot?”
“You told me to leave you alone.” His voice is low and flat, causing me to shift back and fold my arms over my chest.
“Yes. I did.”
He twists, grabbing a box from beside him off the bed, tossing it at my feet. “Then what the fuck is this?”
Studying the box, I cautiously bend down, retrieving an exquisite black dream catcher off the floor. “It’s beautiful.”
“No, it’s another form of torment.”
“Why would you say that? Where did you get it from?”
“You begged me to leave you be, dangled my best friend over my head, then pull this stunt.”
He thinks I did this. Looking to the dream catcher, I stoop down, pick up the box, and see Elliot’s name and home address on the shipping label, but no return address. “I didn’t send you this.”
“Bullshit.” His tone takes on a harshness, but his body remains in a defeated position, shoulders slumped forward, elbows propped on his legs.
“I’m telling you the truth. This is not from me.”
“You and Asher are the only ones who know about the nightmares since you blabbed to him, and I highly doubt your brother thought to give me a dream catcher.”
“Olivia.” I don’t realize I’ve whispered her name aloud until I note how Elliot’s muscles have tensed. “You told her when …”
“That was yesterday.”
Yesterday. It seems like a lifetime ago. “It had to be her.”
“Of course it was.” His hands rub across his face, exhaustion evident as he blows out a frustrated breath.
Instinctively, my fingers reach for him, brushing beside his swollen lip. He flinches at my touch but doesn’t pull away. “What happened?”
“Nothing.” He jumps up to his feet, crossing to the door.
“Elliot, wait,” I say, following behind him.
As he rotates around, I halt in place before quickly taking a step back when I register the fury on his face. The defeated, broken person is gone, replaced by the furious, brutal monster I know all too well. Another swift change from him. I should be used to it by now, but I’m not. Not from him or from my dad, both can become completely different people at the drop of a hat. Yet, I can’t seem to figure out when to leave either alone and just let them be.
“What happened? You can talk to me.” My words only serve to trigger his rage, as he shakes his head.
“You told me to stay away from you. Wish granted.” Stepping back, there’s pure hatred on his face before he turns, leaving the room.
There’s a se
nse of relief, but also disappointment. I want the hideous monster I dealt with at school today to leave me alone, but I want the sweet, caring, tender version of him back. That can never happen. Both sides are a part of him and my heart can only be stitched up so many times.
Walking over to my bed, I note the dream catcher has been left behind. Olivia had to have sent it in hopes of helping her son the only way she’s able while locked away. It feels as though she will be locked away forever with the dangerous secret that Richard wanted her dead. What happens if and when she’s released? Even her return will cause Elliot pain. The truth surrounding that night will bring even more darkness to Elliot’s world. Will he ever be able to escape the sinister demons that lurk in the shadows of his mind, or will they just be replaced by others?
7
Elliot
Longest. Weekend. Ever. Never in a million years would I have ever thought I’d look forward to school. But here I am, cheerfully strolling down the corridor on my way to the courtyard for lunch, beyond thankful to not be walking the halls of my house. Not only did my father hang around the entire weekend—a rarity for sure—but Asher was understandably preoccupied with Quinn since her father’s funeral had been over the weekend. I’d planned to attend the service. I’d dressed and gotten into my car, but never made it out of the garage. Instead, I’d sat in the driver’s seat for countless hours, unable to bring myself to witness Quinn saying goodbye to her dad. Afterwards, I felt guilty for not going. Thankfully, I manage to suck up my emotions long enough to talk to her briefly in the hallway before class this morning and offer my condolences.
I also manage to give Victoria a smirk, pissing her off and causing her to dart away. Success all the way around in my opinion since I finally have enough control to be around her without falling to my knees and begging for forgiveness, again, as I’d debated doing all weekend. She wants away from me, and I need away from her as much as I need her nearby. This should be entertaining to say the least.
Shifting my focus, I spot Asher sulking in our usual spot overlooking the lake. When I take a seat next to him, my gaze immediately goes to the redhead across the courtyard. She’s seated at her customary table, her back to me while Quinn sits across from her. It’s only a few seconds later when Victoria looks over her shoulder to her brother with a smirk on her face before her eyes meet mine. The smirk fades quickly before she turns away, shutting me out. Quinn has an equally pissy stare pointed in Asher’s direction, causing me to chuckle.
“If looks could kill, we’d both be goners.”
Asher seems less than amused as he shifts to the side, folding his arms across his chest. “Already there.”
Same, man. But I can’t say that out loud, not when his sister is the one leading me around by the dick, and every other part of my body, inside and out, is apparently following right along. Frickin’ A.
My phone vibrates with a message as I look to it.
Grandpa: Meet me at the office after school.
Me: Yes sir.
Even though he’s asking me to meet at his office, it must not be regarding work. If so, one of his many employees would’ve been asked to contact me to set up an appointment.
Tucking the phone back into my pocket, I fold my arms across my chest. One mistake after another, but that’s not going to stop me. “My dad is still at the house. Mind if I crash at your place for a few days?”
Asher gives me a curious look before turning his attention back to Quinn. “Like you have to ask.”
“Thanks, bro.” Hopefully I won’t do something too stupid while there, but I really do need to get away from my father and closer to the hellcat who holds my attention for the remainder of the lunch period.
Pulling to a stop, I step out of the car as I glance at my name on the reserved sign. It still bothers me that I have a designated parking space even though it barely gets any use. Walking towards the building, I step inside as the automatic doors glide open, revealing a receptionist who greets me with an uneasy smile.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Bass,” she says softly before resuming her task.
Walking past her, I return the greeting while cringing at the name. I’ve given up asking her to just call me Bass or even Elliot, pretty much anything but Mr. Bass since it’s how everyone addresses my grandpa. I’m nowhere near where I need to be to fill his exceedingly large and overwhelming shoes. The weight of that role and my grandfather’s expectation is enough without being reminded of my title at every turn.
Stepping onto the elevator, a few employees smile or wave, and I keep a phony smile plastered on my face until I step off the elevator. It’s replaced with a genuine one when I spot my grandpa’s assistant.
“What’s the word, Dorothea?”
“Delusional.”
“We all have our delusional moments, right?” Chuckling, I stop at her desk and she passes me a peppermint candy. Unwrapping it from the plastic, I pop it into my mouth. It’s been our routine for as long as I can remember. As a kid, I loved visiting Grandpa’s office just to get my piece of candy and hear the word of the day. More times than not, she was on point.
“Some more so than others.” She waves to the door behind her. “Your grandpa is ready for you and your father is already in there with him.”
Great. Not surprising that he’s here since that’s what I’d assumed the impromptu meeting was regarding, and now the word of the day makes sense. One of the other things Dorothea and I have in common is neither of us can stand the sight of Richard Bass. Early on, she’d tried to mask her disdain for my father, but it became more than obvious she has no use for him. All her years of seeing behind the scenes of the Bass family shitshow, it’s not a surprising opinion to hold. But the fact that she’s stuck around is very commendable, and I’m grateful because she has become a better part of the Bass family than most born into it.
“Wish me luck,” I say, knocking on the door before pushing it open.
Dorothea mumbles something before wishing me luck.
My grandpa stands from his desk, walks over, and pulls me into a hug, slapping me firmly on my shoulder before pulling back to look at me. His eyes zero in on my four-day-old busted lip as anger rages on his face. Stiffly, he rotates, looking to my father who has remained in his seat. Grandpa points to my lip, then at my dad. “Is this your doing? I know it’s not from the fight at school because I’ve seen him since then.” My father shifts, his silence answering my grandpa’s question. “If I can manage to keep my cool and not knock some fucking sense into you, then you should be more than able to keep your hands off my grandson. Understood?”
I can’t help but enjoy the erratic nod my father gives Grandpa. I take a seat beside my father who responds to my curt smile with a furious scowl. Grandpa walks behind his desk, resuming his seat as I ask, “How do you know about the fight at school?” He hadn’t mentioned it, so I’m surprised to learn that he knew about it. Usually, he’d give me a fatherly lecture and tell me to straighten up.
“I know about more than you think, but that’s not why we’re here. It seems Richard has some news he needs to share before word gets out.”
This isn’t good. The tight, frustrated tone in my grandpa’s voice is enough to warn me that good news isn’t about to follow, but seeing the expression on my dad’s face—one of uncertainty and maybe that he’s about to hurl—tells me it’s really bad. Richard Bass doesn’t let a whole lot get to him, much less involve his father when he has a choice.
“Richard, tell him.”
He flinches, looking away from me, and shifts uncomfortably.
Oh no. It’s even worse than I first thought. My worst fear slips from my mouth in a squeak. “Is it Mom? Did something happen to her?”
There’s anger on his face as he looks to me. “No. She’s fine.” He looks to Grandpa before turning his glare back to me. “Over the last few years, I haven’t been traveling as much as I’ve led everyone to believe.”
Glancing to my grandpa, I see his face is red
—furious, really—as he keeps a heated stare locked on his son. “Spit it out, Richard.”
“What’s going on?” I whisper, my fingers digging into the stiff leather arms of the chair as I brace myself for whatever news is about to come my way.
“I was still here … in Knoxville.”
“What? Where? Because you sure as fuck haven’t been around here.”
“I met a woman a few years back, one thing led to another. I didn’t mean for it to happen.”
“What?” My head spins, so many thoughts racing through my mind. “Didn’t mean for it to happen? What, did your dick just happen to fuck her without your knowledge?”
“I never planned for it to happen. Your mother and I—”
“Does Mom know? Did she realize you were playing house with your fucking mistress every time you left us?” Jumping to my feet, I surge forward, hovering over my dad as he remains seated, an impassable expression on his face. “Is that why she tried to kill herself?”
Moving around the desk, Grandpa wedges himself between me and my dad, placing his hand on my shoulder. I stand, unable to take in enough air to catch my breath. My mom. Was that why she’d done it? The final straw that led her to make the decision.
Grandpa’s voice breaks through my thoughts, his hand comforting on my shoulder. “Elliot. There’s more, but I need you to sit down.”
Reluctantly, I drop back into the chair. The strained calmness in my grandfather’s voice is unnerving as I wait on my father to deliver whatever blow is next.
He looks to his hands, rubbing his thumb against his palm. “She’s pregnant.”
Pregnant? It’s a punch in the gut, not to my metaphoric gut, but to my mom’s. “So, you truly were playing house, starting up a whole new family since you’d fucked ours up so badly.”
“No. That’s not the case. It just happened, but what’s done is done. Heidi is due in January with your little brother.”