Perfection of Suffering (The Shadows of Wildberry Lane Book 1)

by M. Sinclair

  I probably didn’t.

  Before I could respond, the sound of a golf cart coming up behind us had me turning slightly. Immediately, my stomach clenched as I realized who was up next at this hole. Crap. Abby and Max Brooks.

  They were with their father and his friends, but I barely paid them mind. They didn’t matter in comparison to the twins. Ugh. I did not want to deal with this right now.

  I must have made a small sound, because Dermot’s arm tightened around my shoulder, causing my skin to break out into shivers. I knew she was going to walk over here, but I focused my attention back on Dermot, hoping she wouldn’t. I could already hear her brother trying to talk to Yates, the latter’s voice filled with annoyance. If Max was looking for friends, Yates was not the one who would be ‘nice enough’ to talk to him.

  “Dahlia!” Abby’s high-pitched voice caused anxiety to well up in my throat. “What a pleasant surprise.”

  God, I wanted to tell her to screw off. I wanted to tell her to leave me alone. To stop sending those messages. I had no proof it was her, though—it was just a feeling… one that I trusted one hundred and ten percent.

  “Abby, good to see you.” I shifted slightly, my back pressed against Dermot’s chest, deciding that I didn’t care how it looked. I hadn’t met his gaze, even while turning towards him, but I could feel he was tense, and I was a bit concerned to meet his eyes, worried about what I’d see.

  Abby leaned against the cart, her eyes running over him curiously with a seductive edge I hated, before looking back down at me with a patronizing air. A possessive burning feeling, paired with a hollow sense of dread, swelled in my chest as I tried to temper it down. I had no freakin’ right to be upset at how she was looking at him.

  Abby’s lips pressed into a sly smile. “Is this your boyfriend? How exciting.”

  Oh, man, I was tempted to say yes.

  Before I could respond, though, Dermot’s calm and almost clinical answer solved my problem. “Yes.”

  My eyes widened slightly as I snapped my head around, finding his lips pressed into an amused smile as he watched me with interest before moving his gaze back up to Abby. Any warmth disappeared, and I looked back to her shocked expression before she collected herself. Dermot was sort of a troublemaker.

  “Oh!” She flashed a smile before a cunning light filled her gaze while she looked past us to where I knew my other guys were. “I hadn’t realized you were dating anyone. I mean, after all, you essentially live with the other guys. But I’m sure you know all about that… what’s your name again?”

  This was the type of stunt she pulled.

  Hypothetically, if I had been actually dating Dermot and he didn’t know the guys well, this would have probably caused tension between us. This was just a small hint of her toxicity. Besides my almost positive instinct that she was the person harassing me, she had a natural talent at planting seeds of doubt and causing conflict with others. The woman was… she was horrible. That was the nicest descriptor I could think of, and I didn’t think she even deserved that, if we were being honest.

  “Kingston is my cousin,” Dermot drew out, his voice edged in hidden laughter as he refused to give her his name. “I’m well aware of where everyone lives.”

  Oh my god, he was literally making fun of her. If I hadn’t liked this man before, I very much did now.

  “Your cousin?” Abby parroted. Dermot nodded slowly, as if he deemed her too dense to fully comprehend what he was saying. She wasn’t. She was a venomous snake that needed to be killed. Was that awful of me? I was starting to not feel bad about my thoughts.

  “Abby!” Max’s voice rang out, sounding pissed as he moved back towards their golf cart. “Come over here.”

  “I see,” Abby said, her eyes flashing with something dark. “Well, it looks like I’ll see both of you tonight.” Unfortunately, since her father was now a member of the club.

  As she went to walk away, she turned back and flashed me a knowing smile. “Just wait until all the girls find out that the Wildberry Lane boys are officially free.”

  Because she would tell everyone.

  Dermot mumbled something as Abby left, a sickening feeling growing in my stomach. It was no surprise that people talked about our group and gossiped about the nature of our relationship, but I was starting to realize that those rumors may have been better than them knowing the truth. Dermot’s fingers relaxed on my shoulder as I turned around to face him, feeling a heavy weight on my shoulders.

  “Who the bloody hell was that?” he demanded softly.

  “Abby Brooks.” I shook my head and sighed. “Not exactly on the friendliest terms with her, if you couldn’t tell.”

  “She seems like a cunt,” he grunted. A surprised laugh broke from my lips, my fingers pressing to my mouth to hide it because I had no good reason for why I found that so funny. He offered me a confused look.

  “You can’t say the C-word here,” I teased, unable to hide my smile.

  A horrified look came over his face. “Why the fuck not? Lass, that’s one of my favorite swear words, don’t take that away from me.”

  “People don’t say that as much in America,” I teased as he shrugged, his face filing with legit delight. See? The man loved causing trouble! It was an addictive quality to be around.

  “Your boyfriend does.” He chuckled and slid out of the cart, walking towards King and leaving me speechless. The man was such a nut job.

  I had to admit, his actions made me feel… better. Safer?

  I wasn’t positive that was the right word for it, but even acting as a pretend boyfriend, Dermot had served as an anchor and shield from Abby’s taunting. It made me wonder how much better I would feel if I just told my guys my suspicion on who had been and still was behind the bullying. Although that would include explaining that it was still going on in the first place.

  Letting out a tired sigh, I watched the group finish up as I contemplated what to do next, if anything at all. I had a feeling Abby would cause problems tonight, but I just wasn’t sure to what extent. It wouldn’t be the first time she had actively hit on my guys, but like with any of the other women who had tried, they seemed completely uninterested. I wasn’t exactly worried about their reaction, but I knew it would still bother me, even if I didn’t tell my boys so.

  It also made me wonder if they knew how I felt and weren’t just trying to be nice. I nearly chuckled at that. Somehow I didn’t think that was the case when it came to Abby.

  Feeling a tad better and not nearly as focused on Abby, I enjoyed the cart ride back to the clubhouse, Lincoln’s fingers intertwined with mine as I leaned against him. He was playing this game on his phone that I’d given up on about two hundred levels in. You know, after I did the same level ten million times and still was unable to beat it, even with boosters. Unfortunately for my pride, Lincoln had not only beat it but was now one hundred something levels above that… so, cool. Really freakin’ cool.

  As we pulled to a stop, I stood and stretched, brushing off my skirt and walking up the stairs towards the dining room that would be set for lunch. My eyes flashed to the corner hallway that Ian had attacked me in… I didn’t want to think about his hands on me. His anything on me.

  Behind me, my boys were talking easily and laughing, but I could tell Kingston was hovering behind me. Whether that was because of yesterday or because of Abby was undetermined. Dermot had, no doubt, filled him in on what had occurred, and I was sort of waiting for King to mention it but hoping he would wait until at least after lunch.

  I really didn’t want to lose the tiny appetite I did have right now.

  Heck, maybe he wouldn’t mention it at all. Maybe the Abby thing didn’t matter to him at all. Maybe the concept of me ‘dating’ Dermot wouldn’t bother him either, or the others, if they even knew. Maybe they weren’t even thinking about me… Honestly, it was a likely conclusion, considering the amount of time that had passed without anyone ever bringing up the concept.

  I mean, was
I crazy? Was the sexual tension I was sensing imaginary? I mean, maybe, because no one ever acted on it. They were probably afraid… afraid it would ruin our friendship. Which it no doubt would, because a one-night stand would never be enough. Especially because if they kissed me, I was almost positive that they would be able to tell just how in love with each of them I really was. I wasn’t exactly great at hiding my emotions.

  Shivering slightly, I crossed my arms as we neared our table in the dining room. The elegant old-world charm easily mixed with modern details that created a comfortable atmosphere that was far more cozy than the ballroom we were in last night. We sat at our usual large table, and I offered Sterling a smile as he pulled my chair out for me. Immediately, my eyes scanned the rest of the dining room cautiously.

  Good. The Brooks twins weren’t here yet.

  God. Thinking about them literally had me losing my appetite by the second. I took a small sip of ice-cold water that was placed down in front of me along with a garden salad.

  For large events, the kitchen staff pre-planned the menu, so I had an idea of what we would be eating. I looked down at my salad as I shook myself, knowing I needed to eat here in order to not make anything worse than it already was. I had caused issues last night, even unintentionally, and I didn’t want to mess up today at all. No one needed that stress. Selfishly, I wanted to avoid any worried looks, because the guilt that slammed into me was like a heavy slab of concrete burying me alive… every. Single. Time.

  I knew this came from the insecurity of being a bother. Being afraid that people would get annoyed with me. Any confidence that I originally possessed had evaporated over this past year, and in some ways, in moments like this, I felt closer to the small abandoned kid that had been brought in by the only people that had decided they wanted her.

  I didn’t like to say I had an eating disorder, because I didn’t… I just didn’t eat. When I did eat, I ended up throwing it up. Yeah, I knew I had a big problem that was growing and festering here, but it was both sickening and impressive what you could convince yourself of. What you could alter your reality to so that you were no longer the one with a problem.

  I’d convinced my brain that certain food was gross, staring at it long enough until it indeed became so, or I would chop it up small enough that I would be able to say I was full based on the amount of bites I’d taken. I’d convinced myself that I didn’t want to be skinny like those girls with an eating ‘problem,’ that I just wanted control over something since everything else was darkening on the edges, making me feel crazy.

  Most people, not including my guys, let me lie to them. I mean, wasn’t that the truth of it? I knew people meant well, but eating issues were extremely common in our society. They were also dark enough that if you had some semblance of an excuse and weren’t laying out in a hospital bed, most people would let you get away with it.

  I had a smile on my face, so how could something actually be wrong? I was just watching my figure. All girls my age did it. My parents, who I knew loved me, had asked all the correct questions, and yet I’d been able to brush their concerns off long enough that they probably no longer thought about it.

  It was almost trippy, being both the one experiencing all of this and understanding what was occurring. It was like a car accident I couldn’t look away from. I wasn’t in denial, even—I knew why I was doing what I was doing. It just didn’t matter. My thought process was so messed up, yet no matter how hard the rational side of me appealed for me to stop, a compulsion pulled me right back into the habit.

  You couldn’t just stop seeing food like you did when you had an eating disorder. Everything became about what you had eaten and how much it was going to affect your body, as if you were intentionally ingesting a poison of some kind. I think it would always be like that. My day was good or bad based on how I felt about my body. It could make or break anything, and that was beyond messed up.

  Maybe I did need to see someone about all of this.

  Then again, the therapist I’d been to a few years back about the stress of school hadn’t seemed to give a flying flip about what was actually going on. She just continued to send in prescriptions for anti-anxiety, anti-depressant, and sleeping medicine… all of which were left unfilled. I’d never been into medicine, and while I did take birth control, I tried to avoid pretty much everything else. I wasn’t going to start on medicine now.

  For the record, I knew amazing therapists existed. Ones that worked their asses off to help their patients. I also knew that medicine could be fundamental to changing someone’s life. It just seemed that in our town, the local therapist was only concerned with whether I wanted a new prescription or not. I had stopped seeing her pretty shortly after realizing that.

  Tuning back into my current surroundings, I slowly started to eat my salad as the others talked around me. My throat was dry as I swallowed a bite of lettuce, feeling eyes on me that no doubt belonged to my guys as I listened to a story Mr. Carter was telling. I had finished my entire salad before it was taken away from me. Immediately, I relaxed, feeling a small sense of pride.

  See? I could do this. I didn’t even feel that full, and salads were healthy. I could keep that down for sure. My phone buzzed in my skort pocket.

  I inhaled sharply as I looked around the room, noticing that the space was filled with tournament participants, the Brooks family seated three tables from our own. Abby’s gaze met mine, seemingly by chance, and instead of offering a smile, a flash of malice went across her expression before she diverted her attention back to something her father said.

  I wasn’t going to look.

  It didn’t matter what she thought.

  I was weak if I looked.

  I was just going to go further and further down this hole if I didn’t stop…

  I unlocked my phone and felt my stomach drop. Immediately, I deleted the picture and put it back away, the room spinning around me. Did I really look like that? She had to have enhanced that, right? I mean, my arms weren’t that big. I looked down at them and shook myself, trying to not break down.

  The message was gone, the picture was gone. I just needed to keep reminding myself of that. Again and again. My confidence in myself, my love for myself, had been decimated, and every picture or word I received was another goddamn nail in my metaphorical coffin. I needed a breather to figure this out.

  “Be right back,” I chimed and stood up, letting out a small groan while rolling my shoulders back as if I was tired. I was, but that wasn’t why I needed a break.

  Slipping to the back of the dining room, I turned into one of the bathrooms that was right off the room, much smaller than the one last night and far less modern. I closed my eyes as I slipped into one of the stalls, resting my head against the wooden door, breathing through my panic.

  It was a salad, and she had enhanced the picture. Abby Brooks was trying to screw with me, and it was absolutely working. Unless… I really did look like that and I just wasn’t seeing it. I braced my hands on the stall walls and closed my eyes, a small sob breaking through my throat before I swallowed it down.

  No. I would not cry. I would not let her have that power. I looked up, willing the tears to disappear, feeling the past twenty-four hours fully hitting me as my knees began to weaken. When the bathroom door opened, I knew immediately who it was based on their perfume, so I flushed the toilet as if I had just used the restroom.

  Stepping out of the small stall, I offered a cursory glance at Abby leaning against the counter, her smirk growing as she arched a perfectly shaped brow.

  “You okay, princess?” Her snide mockery of King’s nickname had anger building in my chest that I pushed down, knowing she wanted that. Any reaction was a good one for her.

  “Perfect.” I smiled and washed my hands as she continued to stare at me, making me feel almost creeped out, like she was evaluating me. God. Screw this lady.

  “You know,” she drew out casually, “I should have figured that you had a boyfriend, especiall
y with where I saw Stratton last night.”

  My chest squeezed as my throat closed up. “I don’t really care what you saw, Abby.”

  “Well, I suppose saw isn’t the right word.” She sighed in contemplation. “You see, I couldn’t see all that much in the dark besides the girl kneeling in front of him, sucking him off at the post-fight party.”

  I hate to admit that my first thought was, had he gone to a fight last night? I thought he had to stay home for his grandma? She was in my head. I couldn’t focus on the other part, because if I did I was going to lose it. I felt at the end of my rope, and I had no intention of letting her see just how much that suggestion bothered me.

  Instead, I let out a small amused sound. “Good for them, I bet it was a good time. Well, then again, you would probably be a better person to ask, right? Is blowing someone who doesn’t care about you fun, Abby?”

  Abby snarled, stepping into my space. “You fucking prude. You’re getting gang-banged by what, six men now? And somehow I’m the slut?”

  “I didn’t call you that, but it’s clear what you think of yourself.” I felt a sneer pull on my lip as she revealed exactly what she assumed was going on between my boys and me. Honestly, the concept of being with all of them was anything but unappealing… but she had no right to be thinking about that.

  “Plus,” I added, smirking as I pointed a finger against her chest and flicked the necklace she always wore as my temper truly came out, “that’s your goddamn fantasy, Abby. One that you will never get, by the way. Poor you.”

  I wouldn’t either, but that wasn’t the point.

  My bravery was retreating, so I walked past her, done with the conversation. I let out a sharp cry as her hand shot out and pulled back on my ponytail hard enough to make me slip on the tile floor. I fell back, my head feeling as though it had cracked open when it hit the tile. My breathing was rough as Abby leaned over me, pressing a manicured hand into my throat, her long, sharp nails breaking skin.

  “Just remember, Dahlia, you are worthless without them and your fake little family,” she purred and tightened her grip. “You are from the fucking slums. You are absolute trash, and once those men get what they want from you, they will be over it. Over you. You’re just a long game they entertain themselves with. Not someone they would ever consider marrying. After all, what man wants to be with a girl that fucks his friends?”