by Ivy Fox
He closes his lids in agony.
“I don’t want to hear any more,” he chokes.
“See, that’s the difference between you and I. I’d rather have brutal honesty than a pretty lie any day of the week. I thought you knew me well enough to know that. Guess I was wrong.”
And with those words hanging in the air, I jump off the bed in search of my clothes.
“What are you doing?” he asks, rushing to follow me.
“What does it look like? Getting as far away from you as I can.”
“Elle, it’s fucking midnight. I’m not going to let you out of this house at this hour.”
“Try to fucking stop me!”
He rushes to me, holding my arms behind my back so I can’t move, let alone get dressed.
“Let me go!” I shout.
He releases me with one of his hands to slam it to my mouth. I slap him repeatedly, but he never wavers from his grip until my back is flush against the wall.
“You’re right. I am a fucking coward,” he whispers in my ear while I continue to thrash against him. “Is that what you want to hear? I am because of this right here. I knew I’d lose you.” He removes his hand from my mouth and caresses my cheek, putting an end to my resistance. “Deep down, I always knew that I would fuck this up and lose you.”
“Congratulations, you were right. You did lose me.”
“Stop it, Elle. You don’t want to hurt me.”
“Yes, I do. I’ve never wanted to hurt someone more,” I sob, hating the words that are leaving my mouth.
“No, babe, you don’t. Because you already know I’m hurting. You think I don’t feel your pain? I’ve lived with it all my life. I always have, Elle. I know you might not believe me anymore, but my feelings haven’t changed. I love you. But I love him, too. And I don’t know what to do about it. You’re not the only one who’s confused and hurt. I am, too.”
I bite my inner cheek, bowing my head to his chest.
“You could have told me.”
“Would the result be any different?”
“I’ll never know because you didn’t give me a chance.”
He slumps his shoulders, a strangled sob ripping through his throat.
“Stay. I’ll sleep in the guest bedroom. Don’t go out at this hour. Please.”
I don’t want to do him any favors, but the thought of going home right now isn’t appealing to me either. So I nod my consent. He pulls away and takes two steps back to give me breathing room. I cautiously walk over to his bed and lie down, keeping my back always to him just so I don’t see how torn and broken he is. The minute I slip under the covers, I feel cold without him lying by my side.
“How long?” I ask softly, fisting the duvet in my hands.
“How long what?”
“How long have you been in love with him?”
“Since we were fifteen,” he answers truthfully.
“And me?”
“Since the day I saw you.”
Even though he’s finally put all his cards on the table, I feel it’s too little, too late for it to do any good. My ears focus on his steps retreating to the door, my heart stopping inside my chest when they halt just as he’s about to leave.
“Elle?” he whispers. “Are we going to survive this?”
My lips seal shut, not wanting to lie to him.
“Just tell me that I can still hope to keep you in my life at least, Elle.”
“I don’t know.”
The silence in the room is deafening, and when he closes the door behind him, I wince at the finality of the sound.
Because something inside tells me that I might have just shut the door on us, too.
Chapter 10
Elle
I left Chad’s home before dawn, unable to sleep the whole night in his bed. Not that I was able to get a wink of sleep anyway. All I ended up doing was replaying our heated argument in my head on a vicious loop. We’ve never fought like that before. If ever. Our words were so ugly, so definite.
If I wanted a reprieve from my heartache, then my father’s wake was sure to do the trick.
Instead of feeling numb, all I feel is disgust.
For the past few hours, I’ve had to endure an endless number of fake condolences. Not one person here feels sorry the man is dead, yet they keep coming up to my brothers and me with words of sorrow. All of them saying what a great loss his death is to not only our family but the great City of New York.
I want to hurl at their words.
They want to portray my father like he was the epitome of everything good and honorable, when in fact, he was a monster lurking in the shadows of this very house.
But in reality, none of them are here to pay their respects. They’re here because they want to suck up to the last remaining Grayson heirs in the hopes that one day they can come a-knocking with their hands out. Be it for some charity that will only help the one-percenters or a business venture that need funding.
I can’t stand to hear another tender word about the man.
If I do, I can’t promise I won’t barf all over their ten-thousand-dollar Tom Ford suits and Versace dresses.
I continue to walk aimlessly throughout the living room, with no real purpose. Rome has taken charge of dealing with the most annoying guests, while Holland does her best to stay away from her mother—the weeping widow in black that is loving all the attention she’s getting. Ollie and Asher are vigilantly watching the crowd, undoubtedly counting down the seconds until they can leave. I sneak a glance at Chad and his parents, who are currently conversing with Senator Hurst and his wife, Claire.
My stomach twists in contempt at the Senator. Even after he discovered that his daughter was seduced by my father, he still had the gall to show up at his wake. If he cared one ounce about Addison, he would spit on my father’s grave. But instead, he’s here, hoping to win some brownie points with Rome for his future election.
Yep.
I’ve had enough of fake-ass people to last me a lifetime.
The air is rancid with their greed.
And if I take any more of it into my lungs, I won’t hold myself responsible if I tell every last person here what I think of them.
But as I’m about to make my escape, my gaze lands on the last people I ever thought would come today—Saint and Maya, accompanied by his mom and aunt. When Saint sees me through the crowd, he rushes toward me, uncaring of the ugly glowers he gets by the way he pushes people to get out of his way. A sudden warmth spreads through me at the resolve on his face, and before I know it, I’m running in his direction, sighing in relief the minute I fall into his embrace.
“You came,” I stutter in astonishment.
“Of course, I did. Nothing would stop me from being here.”
My tears fall free, unable to contain the gratitude I’m feeling inside.
“Shh. Shh, cariño. He doesn’t deserve one tear from you,” he coos, wiping the tears away from my cheeks with his thumbs.
“I’m not crying for him.” I smile, getting lost in his jet-black gaze.
His Adam’s apple bobs as he stares at me, the look of utter devotion putting me at a loss for words.
“Elenora,” his mom calls out from behind him, reminding us that we’re not alone.
I pull away from her son and plant a genuine smile on my lips.
“Mrs. García, thank you so much for coming.”
“Santo needed to be here. And I also wanted to pay my respects. I’m so sorry for your loss.”
She gives me a hug, followed by another hug and sincere condolences from Mags.
“Are you okay?” Maya asks after she gets her own hug.
“I am now. A little, anyway.”
“I’m sorry about your father.”
“I’m not. He wasn’t a good man.”
“Hmm,” she mumbles. “Mine isn’t good either. But a part of me still loves him. I’d be sad if he died, even though h
e’s not good.”
I wish I could tell her I felt the same, even if only to show her there is some kind of decency in me that could hold that type of forgiveness. But I can’t.
To my bitter chagrin, I’m too much like my father in that way.
“We’re here if you need us, Elenora,” Saint’s mom adds, and I thank her again for her kindness.
“You guys mind if I spend a few moments alone with my girl?” Saint asks, my cheeks going red at the unexpected endearment.
“Of course, Santo. We’ll be over with the Murphys if you need us,” Mags states, pulling Saint’s mom and Maya in the direction of Chad and his parents.
As they leave us to walk further into the room toward the Murphys, the sad expression on Chad’s face as he stares at me and Saint grips my heart and squeezes it into a pulp.
“Boy Scout doesn’t look so hot,” Saint states somberly, holding on to my hand.
“Can we not talk about him? At least for today.”
“Sure, Princess,” he replies, kissing the top of my head.
“Do you want to take a walk with me? This house is stifling.”
He takes a good long look around the large room and smirks.
“This place is huge.”
“It still feels stifling.” I shrug.
“Whatever you need,” he retorts, squeezing my hand in his and pulling me away from the toxic crowd.
Unfortunately, we’ve barely made it to the main foyer when Detective Gomez and a bunch of cops in blue storm the hall.
“What the fuck?!” Saint blurts out at the throng of uniformed officers.
“What’s going on?” I ask, watching our butler, Lawrence, looking flustered as he tries to keep up with the police invading our home.
“I couldn’t keep them out.”
We hurriedly retreat back to the main hall, where we see Rome being handcuffed and pulled away.
“Roman Grayson, you are under arrest for the murder of Judge Malcolm Grayson,” Detective Gomez announces, loud and clear for all the mourners to hear.
“What?!” I yell, rushing toward them as they pull Rome out of the hall.
“What is the meaning of this? Rome did not kill our father!” I shout, trying to keep up with him being hurled outside into the cold December air.
“It’s going to be okay, rugrat. It’s going to be okay,” Rome explains, unbothered by the gawking crowd that followed him onto the street.
“What? What is happening?!”
“Elle, listen to me. Take care of Snow. Tell Ash and Ollie to just take care of Snow!” he yells as a policeman pushes him inside a police car.
“What is happening?! Let my brother go!” Saint holds me back as I yell and shout at the officers.
“I’m sorry, Miss Grayson, but your brother is coming with us to the station. I suggest you get a good lawyer,” Detective Gomez informs me before opening the passenger door of the car that has my brother—the very one who basically raised me all on his own—held prisoner.
“Yeah. She gets the picture,” Saint seethes at the detective.
I stand shaking in my spot, watching the car pull away. Rome’s face against the window mouthing he loves me.
All of me shivers as two strong arms hold me tightly.
I turn around, unable to make sense of this.
Saint holds me by the chin, panic in his eyes.
“You need to get a lawyer. Like right this second.”
“I’m going to get much more than that. I’m getting answers.”
And I know just where to get them.
“Breathe, Snow. Breathe,” I keep whispering to her.
“Elle,” she hiccups, fiercely grabbing on to my hands.
“It’s okay, Holland. You’re okay,” I softly reassure her, pulling a hand away to wipe her tears.
I stare at Ollie as he rubs her back and neck, trying to coax her out of her hysteria.
When I walked back into the house, the officers demanded that all guests leave so they could conduct a search of the premises. The pricks even had a subpoena signed by an old golfing buddy of my father’s. I guess the asshole did have friends after all. Not that this was the way I wanted to find out.
After that, New York’s finest ushered my brothers, Holland, and I into a room, so we wouldn’t disrupt the search. I was actually thankful for some privacy, so I could finally get some answers from the twins on what the hell is going on, but Holland went to pieces the minute the door closed.
“They took him, Ollie. They took him. What have I done?” she breaks down, placing her temple on my brother’s shoulder.
“We’ll figure this out, Snow. I promise you. We will find a way, and soon everything will be back to normal. It’s going to be okay.”
Pretty words, Ollie.
But I’m not so sure.
We let Snow cry her fill, knowing she needs this release before she can face the shitshow that’s happening to our family. When she finally quiets down, she lets go of my hand and pulls away from Ollie, her attention now on Asher, who is still yelling on the phone with our lawyers.
“I’ll have to call you back,” Ash informs the lawyers, hanging up the phone when Snow gets up from her seat and bridges the gap between them.
“You should have let me tell the truth, Asher. I know you’re not perfect. God, how I know you aren’t! But not even when you were at your worst did I ever believe you would be capable of something so cruel. Rome is your brother, Asher! Your brother! Why did you stop me? Why?!” she shouts, pushing him repeatedly on the chest.
I start to get up, but Ollie grabs hold of my wrist, shaking his head and silently telling me to sit back down.
Asher begins whispering something in Holland’s ear, and I hate the fact that they are too far from me to hear what he’s saying. He then steps back and places a kiss on her forehead, mumbling something under his breath. I’m struggling to pick up on their conversation, but when Snow holds on to Ash’s shirt and begins to plead a little louder, I catch every word.
“We can’t let him do this, Ash. We just can’t. No. I won’t have it, Ash.”
“You won’t have what?” I question, having had enough of being oblivious to what the hell is going on.
But when the three of them thin their lips with a guilty expression marring their features, I lose it.
“What the hell is going on?!” I shout. “All three of you know something. What is it? Did Rome really kill our father like that detective said? Did he? Is that what you all have been hiding from me? Tell me the truth!” I bark out, stomping my feet, demanding answers.
Holland looks over at Ash as if asking permission, but it’s Ollie who actually takes charge.
“Sit down, Elle,” he says, walking us over to the dining room door and closing it.
I remain on my feet, refusing to sit down. Ollie walks over to me and places his hands on my shoulders, thinking that will keep my cool. I slap his hands off me and point my index finger right in his face.
“Ollie, don’t even try it. You know something. You all do! What is it? Now, Oliver! Out with it!” I demand again, showing all of them that I’ve had enough.
“Rome didn’t kill our father, Elle. This is all a misunderstanding,” Ollie explains, trying to calm me down with his soft tone.
“I did it,” Holland suddenly interjects, knocking the wind out of my sails. “I killed him.”
“What?” I choke out in utter bewilderment.
“Jesus, Snow, this is so not the time for this,” Ash interrupts in aggravation.
He then tilts his head for all of us to follow him outside to the balcony, far away from the cops posted outside the door. The winter air outside can’t compare to the chill I felt just seconds ago when Holland admitted she killed my father. I swallow dryly as she grabs both of my hands, the truth at the tip of her tongue. But just as she’s about to tell me every last detail, Ash places his hand on her shoulder, silencing her.
“I still think we shouldn’t be doing this right now,” Ash cautions, obviously worried that someone might overhear her confession.
“Let it go, Ash. Snow needs to do this. Go on. Tell her,” Ollie interjects on my behalf, placing his hands over my shoulders, knowing this time I’ll welcome his soothing presence.
“Rome didn’t kill your father, Elle. I did,” she repeats evenly.
“You? You killed him? Why?” I question with a bite, Holland flinching at my cold tone.
I know she doesn’t deserve it, that somehow my father merited his death by her hands, but after watching Rome be taken out of our home in handcuffs, I’m finding it hard to keep my temper in check.
“I’ll tell you everything. But you have to trust me. I alone did this. Rome had nothing to do with it. You have to believe me.”
“I know Rome didn’t kill my father, no matter what the police say. My brother might not consider himself to be a good man, but I know differently. He’d never take a life, even one as cruel as our father’s.” I reply matter-of-factly, even though deep down, I know that my older brother and I are capable of murder and much worse.
“What happened?” I ask again with the same critical tone.
Holland’s gaze turns hesitant, and I kick myself for being so hot-tempered. She’s been like a sister to me. She’s given Rome a reason to smile again. Brought love to the twins’ lives. And if she was the one who offed my bastard of a father, I should be kissing the ground she walks on, not giving her grief.
I know why I’m acting this way.
It’s the realization that no one ever tells me the truth about anything that’s real.
In their misguided notion to protect me, all they ended up doing is making me look the fool.
Just like Chad.
“Remember Trevor’s and Lace’s party? The one right before school started?” Ollie starts to explain, picking up on Holland’s hesitation.
“You mean the one where all of you were complete assholes? Yeah, I remember it.”
“Do you remember what happened after the party?” Holland continues on.