Ruthless (The Privileged of Pembroke High #4)

by Ivy Fox

  “Scoot, Elle,” he orders, and I make some room on the bed so he can lie beside me. Once he’s comfortable, he cradles me to his side and gently runs his hand up and down my back.

  “Rome?”

  “What is it, rugrat?”

  “I don’t want to go tomorrow. Please don’t let him make me,” I beg.

  He tugs me closer so that I can rest my head on the top of his chest as he tenderly detangles my hair with his fingers.

  “Don’t you want to say goodbye?”

  “Why should I when she didn’t?” I murmur, hurt.

  “Oh, Elle, you know it was an accident, don’t you? Mom had no way of knowing this was going to happen.”

  I bite my bottom lip hard, keeping the damming words trapped inside me.

  It wasn’t an accident.

  She did this to herself.

  Mom took her own life just so she could be free of him once and for all.

  I just know it.

  But if I tell Rome that, he’ll never forgive her and my big brother loved our mother most of all.

  “Elle?” he whispers when I don’t say anything in return.

  “I’ll go. For you. I’ll go for you, Rome.”

  My big brother lets out a long sigh and squeezes me to him. My mother might have left all of us in the hands of a cruel, vicious man, but at least the twins and I still have Rome. I know he’ll never leave us. Not like she did.

  “Try to get some sleep, okay?”

  I give him a stiff nod and hope that sleep won’t come to me no matter how much my older brother desires it. Since Mom died, all the night ever seems to bring me is one nightmare after another. But tomorrow, when dawn finally arrives, I know my horror-filled dreams won’t be able to compare with my current reality.

  Tomorrow all of us will have to say our final goodbyes to the one parent who loved us unconditionally and watch as she is buried in the cold ground. After that, all she will ever be is a tombstone to visit—a grave to put flowers on and nothing more.

  She left us, and now we have to live in a world where only he reigns.

  I’ll never forgive her.

  I’ll never forgive him.

  But most importantly, I’ll never forgive myself for not being enough to keep my mother alive.

  It’s as much my fault as it is theirs.

  Love doesn’t conquer a goddamn thing.

  Only fear prevails.

  Chapter 5

  Chad

  “Dad, can you please hurry up?” I implore impatiently, watching him hand over his car keys to the valet as if he had all the time in the world.

  Leave it to the Grayson family to have private parking included in their funeral services.

  “Chad dear, I know that you’re anxious to see Elle, but please be patient. There is just not much you can do for her now,” my mother defends, hooking her arm around my father’s.

  I throw my mother a black look and walk ahead of my parents in the direction of the funeral home. Neither of them could possibly understand how my heart hurts for not being at Elle’s side when she needs me most. Elle loved her mom wholeheartedly. The misery my best friend must be feeling due to her mom’s unexpected death is unimaginable to me. Just thinking about Elle suffering in any way has me losing my mind.

  “Do you know if the police caught the taxi driver who hit her?” My father asks my mother in a low voice behind me.

  “Not yet, I’m afraid. I do hope the NYPD finds him soon, though, and give those poor children some closure. Eleanor was everything to those kids.”

  “Well, I’m sure Judge Grayson will do his very best to fill the void her passing has left them with,” my father retorts optimistically, patting my mom’s hand with his.

  “Elle’s father is psychotic, Dad. He couldn’t give two shits about any of his kids.”

  “Chadwick Murphy! I don’t want you to use that type of language, especially when we are about to enter God’s house. It’s unbecoming,” my mother reprimands with a disappointed scowl.

  I bite down on my tongue, preventing me from saying another word. Especially one that points out the fact that she’s an atheist and doesn’t believe in all that religious nonsense. And besides, this is a funeral home, not a freaking church—a far cry from being God’s house if you ask me.

  “Let the boy cuss if he needs to, Valerie. This is hard on him. It’s his Elle, after all.”

  My mother’s eyes soften at my father’s words, her shoulders slightly slumping as she stares down at me.

  “You’re right. I’m sorry, Chad. I should be more sensitive to your feelings instead of shaming how you’re trying to deal with them. You can express your pain and frustration however you feel suits you best.”

  “Mom, can we please have one day where you don’t psychoanalyze everything I say or do? Please? I can’t handle it today.” I scoff.

  She opens her mouth to defend herself but then seals it shut when my father gives her a little nudge. Her thin lips frown as we enter the crowded funeral hall, but I don’t have time to placate my mother’s hurt feelings right now.

  Elle needs me.

  That’s all I care about.

  “I hate to agree with our son, but I have no love for Malcolm Grayson either. He’s always given me the heebie-jeebies.” I hear my mother mutter under her breath, low enough that she thinks I can’t hear, thinking I’m too preoccupied with finding Elle amongst the sea of people who came here today to pay their respects.

  “Is that your professional opinion, Dr. Murphy?” My father teases lightly.

  “I’m serious, Derek. There is something off with that man. I’ve always thought so. I never gave the nagging suspicion much credence and was fine letting our son go over to the Grayson manor whenever he felt like it, but now with Eleanor gone, maybe we shouldn’t allow Chad to go over to their house so much.”

  Is she fucking kidding me?

  “Valerie, that would break our son’s heart,” my father whispers in concern.

  “I’m not trying to be the bad guy here. I just want to protect him.”

  I’m about to turn around and tell my mother that I don’t need protection, especially from Malcolm Grayson, when I catch a glimpse of wavy chestnut hair running through the mourning mob in my direction. I break into a run, uncaring of the disgruntled looks I get, and finally take what seems to be my first intake of breath in days when my arms wrap themselves around Elle’s trembling form.

  “You came.” She hiccups between sniffles as she fiercely clings onto me with all her might.

  “Of course I did, Elle. I’ll always come when you need me. Always.”

  When I feel one of her tears touch my cheek, my chest tightens. It feels as if someone has just plunged their fist into my ribcage with the sole intention of strangling my heart. The heartache only intensifies when Elle quickly wipes her tears clean, doing everything in her power to leave no visible vestige of her pain.

  “It’s okay to cry, Elle,” I explain softly.

  She shakes her head and pulls away from me, her spine turning ramrod straight.

  “He won’t like it.”

  She looks over her shoulder, my eyes following her gaze until they land on Judge Grayson, who is across the room and as stoic as ever.

  He won’t like it.

  In other words, if her father sees Elle showing one ounce of vulnerability in front of everyone, there is no doubt in my mind he’ll punish her for it. I give her a clipped nod to show her I understand. Without saying a word, I grab her hand, searching for a place where Elle can fall apart without having to worry about the repercussions of her tears. She doesn’t ask me where we’re going, always trusting me that I have her best intentions at heart.

  And when it comes to Elle, I always do.

  With her small hand entwined with mine, I’m able to find us an empty bathroom. The minute we are both inside, I make sure to lock the door behind me so that no one can interrupt us. I brin
g my best friend close to my chest and whisper in her ear, “You can cry now, Elle. No one will ever know. I promise.”

  Her head nestles into the crook of my neck as she lets out all the misery she had been keeping under lock and key all day. When Elle’s trembling sobs begin to freefall, my own following suit, provoked by her suffering.

  “She’s gone,” she whimpers.

  “I know.”

  “Why would she leave us like this? Why?”

  “It was an accident, Elle. Your mom would never leave you or your brothers if she could avoid it. She loved you too much.”

  “Not enough.” Elle shakes her head in denial. “She didn’t love us enough. She didn’t.”

  I run my fingers through her hair, but her crying only intensifies.

  “Elle,” I choke out.

  “It’s true, Chad. No matter what you say, I know I’m right. She quit on us. She gave up.”

  “Elle—”

  She tilts her head up to look at me, still trembling in my arms.

  “Don’t. Just don’t. I know what I’m saying. I know I’m right. She let him win, and I’ll never forgive her for it. Never.”

  I don’t say another word and just let her tap into her pain and suffering, even if Elle’s mind is taking her to the darkest part of her soul. I wish I could follow and pull her out of that black abyss, but I can’t. All I can do is hold her tightly until she pulls herself out of her melancholic thoughts. However, every stifled cry she tries to keep in feels like someone is stabbing away at my heart. I’ve never felt so helpless. So small. Not being able to take Elle’s suffering away feels like I’m slowly dying myself. I tighten my hold on her, hoping she finds some small solace in my arms. I look at our reflection in the bathroom mirror, establishing that my eyes are now as red and swollen as hers. I’m not sure how much time passes by, but every excruciating second of bearing witness to Elle’s agony feels like years to me.

  Once the worst has passed and her wails have decreased to soft whimpers, I break away just so I can grab some toilet paper to clean up the aftermath.

  “I wasn’t sure you’d make it,” she stutters between sobs. “Did you have a nice flight?”

  I take the hint that the off-topic question is Elle’s way of trying to talk about anything other than what’s happening outside this room.

  “Not really.” I shrug sheepishly.

  It’s not a lie. My parents and I were already in Aspen for our Thanksgiving holiday when we got word of what happened to Eleanor Grayson. For a split second, I thought my parents were going to be total dicks and not let me come back to the city. But they surprised me when they booked the first flight to New York. It was pure luck we were able to get here before the funeral took place since it seemed like Elle’s dad was anxious to lay his wife to rest.

  “Chad?”

  “What, Elle?”

  “If I asked you to run away with me, would you?” she asks, blinking away her stubborn tears.

  I grasp her chin and begin to dry her wet cheeks.

  “Just say the word. We could live off candy and junk food if you wanted.”

  “How much candy?” She wiggles her nose, a sad smile pulling at the corner of her lips.

  “All the candy in the world.”

  A strangled giggle falls from her as an errant tear slips down her cheek.

  “And how would we pay for all that candy?”

  “Easy. I’d get a job at McDonald’s,” I reply lightheartedly.

  “Hmm. I think we have to work on this plan a little more. I don’t think flipping burgers would pay us enough for all the candy in the world, plus rent.”

  “Who said anything about rent? Nah, Elle. You and I would live in a tent in some remote forest. We would wake up early and swim in the river, and when you’d get tired of candy and junk food, I’d fish and cook up dinner for you. At night we would just lie on the grass and count out all the stars until we fell asleep.”

  “That sounds nice. But what would I do when you were away making the big bucks?” she teases, sounding more like the girl I adore.

  “You’d fix our little tent to make it look all homey. And when I brought back a sixteen-inch carp, you’d clean it up and fry it over the fire I’d built.”

  “Seems like a lot of work.”

  “Yes, but we would have plenty of other fun things to do, too. We could run in the fields and pick flowers so I could put them in your hair. We’d climb trees and pick fruit. We would be like Adam and Eve in paradise.”

  “I like the sound of that,” she whispers sadly.

  “But your brothers would miss you.”

  “So would your mom and dad.”

  “I don’t think they would even notice that I was gone,” I confess with a slump to my shoulders.

  “Don’t say that. They love you.”

  “They have a funny way of showing it. I don’t think they even love each other.”

  “Why would you say that?” she asks, confused.

  “It’s just a feeling I have. They are perfectly content in living in their own little worlds. When you love someone, you want to spend every waking moment with the person.”

  “You mean like we do?”

  “Yes, Elle. Like we do,” I reply softly, nudging my nose with hers.

  I look deep into her eyes, and before I have time to think about what I’m about to do, I bend down just a little until our lips are a hair’s breadth away from each other. I swallow hard, my heart drumming a mile a minute, and before Elle has time to open her mouth to say something, I kiss her.

  It takes about five seconds, but it’s long enough to have my heart sing.

  “What did you do that for?” she stutters, wide-eyed after we part.

  “I don’t know. It just felt right. Did I do it wrong?” I ask nervously, my uneasiness setting in, thinking I might have botched our first kiss somehow.

  Elle shakes her head while looking at her feet, but I don’t miss how she traces her lips with her fingers. I feel my mouth dry up as if a golf ball lodged itself in my throat while she keeps her gaze averted from mine. “Okay. I… um… Maybe we should go back. I’m sure your brothers must be looking for you by now.”

  I turn around in the direction of the door, but Elle latches her arms around my waist, her cheek gently kissing my back.

  “Promise you’ll never leave me?”

  The question is barely louder than a whisper, yet I hear the fear tainting each word. When I turn around to face her, I see that same terror swimming in her gold eyes.

  “I promise. I will never leave you,” I vow.

  “We’ll always be best friends?”

  “The best of best friends. They’ll have a picture of us in the dictionary as the very definition of best friends,” I try to joke, but Elle is still trapped in a nightmare where we aren’t together.

  “Promise me, Chad. Nothing will ever come between us. Promise me.”

  “I promise,” I vow with all my heart, completely unaware that it would be the first lie of many I’d end up telling her in the years to come.

  Chapter 6

  Saint

  I’m dragging my feet behind Aunt Maggie, hating the fact we have to do this pit stop here at Pembroke Middle School to pick up Boy Scout. Unfortunately, it’s become a common occurrence every time I have to see his shrink of a mom. It’s been a couple of months since I was forced to sit down and talk about my feelings and shit with Dr. Murphy in order to deal with my so-called anger issues. Thing is, no matter how hard I try to explain to the good doctor that I’m not angry, that I’m just fucking surviving, it doesn’t seem to compute with her. No matter how many ways I put it to her that my fists only meet some jackass’s jaw when they are disrespectful, she insists that there are more productive ways that I can go about it.

  Blah blah blah.

  Usually, that’s when Doc loses me. When she goes about her rich folk rant, I zone her out and just lie on her white lea
ther couch, staring at her ceiling and counting down the remaining minutes of our session. I know Doc’s well-intentioned and all, but she has no clue how hard it is living in the projects. If I tried to do even half the shit she suggests in our sessions, the streets would immediately label me as soft, sharpen their teeth, and eat me alive.

  But I don’t mind going to her sessions as much anymore. At least when I go over to the shrink’s place, Boy Scout always finds a way to have a plate of food ready for me in the kitchen before I leave. At first, his kind gesture pissed me off. I told him point-blank that I wasn’t a fucking charity case. But then I quickly realized the kid wasn’t doing it because he felt sorry for me. He was doing it because he was fucking lonely. All he wanted was some company to talk to while he had his own dinner. It only took a couple of weeks to figure out that his life wasn’t as picture-perfect as it seemed. Sure, Chad has a big-ass house and two parents still together and living under the same roof, but that doesn’t mean jack shit. Not when his folks hardly pay him any attention. Shit, even when my mom works two double shifts at the diner, she still finds time to call me up and be present in my life. It’s not that the Murphys are bad people because they’re not. They’re just fucking clueless.

  For instance, his mom does this whole song and dance of trying to fix me up when it’s so clear her absentmindedness is causing some serious damage in her own kid. Anyone can see he’s just as messed up as I am. But while I deal with my shit with my fists, Boy Scout prefers to pretend that being unintentionally ignored by his workaholic parents doesn’t faze him in the least.

  But come on!

  The guy has a pipsqueak of a sheltered princess as his best friend, for crying out loud. That alone should be enough to raise the alarm bells with his folks, but what do I know. Still, I never thought a kid like Boy Scout would grow on me. It gets harder and harder to keep my cold scowl in place when we have dinner together in his kitchen. Every time I wolf down my food, his big green eyes sparkle with delight like he just found the cure for cancer or something. His goofy-ass smile on any other person would get on my nerves, but on him… I don’t know.