Fractured Things (Folkestone Sins Book 2)

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Fractured Things (Folkestone Sins Book 2) Page 14

by Samantha Lovelock


  “Well, you’d be the expert on nasty pussy wouldn’t you, Torsten?” I counter with a smirk, waving my hand under my nose for emphasis. From the flash of surprise that crosses her features, I can tell she wasn’t expecting me to respond at all, let alone stand up for myself. Once she registers what I said though, the surprise is replaced by feral rage.

  “How dare you?” She sputters, momentarily at a loss for words. “Why did you even come back here? Went running home to look for your whore mother and found out she didn’t want your trashy ass around either?” She clucks her tongue at me with a look of vicious, demented enjoyment. “You’re probably the reason she left in the first place. Too much of a stupid slutty cunt for even your loser mother to want you.” Sunday steps forward and tries to defend me, but Hali cuts her off.

  “Oh shut up, Sunday,” she says, her words dripping with scorn as she rolls her eyes. “Nobody gives a shit what the town druggie with the dead brother has to say.” The druggie comment catches me off guard, but I don’t let it show. Sunday pales underneath her golden California tan, and I’ve had more than enough of Hali and her mouth.

  Berate me all you want, you heinous bitch, but go after my friends and it’s on. I may be jumping the gun, but let’s see how you like a taste of your own medicine.

  Reaching behind me with one hand, I slam my locker shut, then take three steps forward, forcing Hali into the center of the hallway so the crowd she’s managed to attract has a good view. The predatory smile feels alien and uncomfortable on my face, but it's necessary for what I need to do.

  “Have you gone and lost your mind, Hali? That’s no way to talk to your sister’s best friend, is it?” My voice is clear, with a heavy emphasis on ‘sister’. The hallway collectively sucks in a shocked breath and then goes completely silent in their confusion. Hali’s face turns a strange shade of purple-red, and I see the fist she makes from the corner of my eye as she bares her teeth at me. I take a step closer to her.

  “Go ahead, sister dear, hit me,” I hiss, still smiling at her. “You’ll get one punch, and then I’ll take your pretty face apart.” Her stance falters slightly, and I see my opening. “The Bradleigh Heir is back in town, and I’m coming for you and your evil, disgusting father. By the time I’m done, you’ll be huddled in a corner chewing your hair, and if I’m really, really lucky, he’ll be dead.” Leaning forward, I plant a loud, smacking kiss on her cheek as she stands frozen in place. “See you around, sis.”

  Linking my arm through Sunday’s, her and I step around the seething Hali and walk off down the hall, Raff’s burst of appreciative laughter and the chatter of the onlookers echoing behind us.

  Once we’re out of sight, Sunday takes a hard left and tugs me into the first restroom we see. After a quick check of the stalls to make sure we’re alone, she turns to look at me with embarrassment and something like fear sitting heavily on her features.

  “About that druggie comment,” she starts haltingly. “I don’t want you to think—" I put both my hands up and stop her before she can say anything else.

  “Sun, I don’t think anything, and you don’t need to explain, not right now. We can sit down and talk in private later, away from this place, okay?” With a grateful nod, she takes a breath and closes her eyes for a few seconds. When she opens them again, she seems calmer and more like her usual self. There’s silence between us, the two of us just standing there staring at each other until we both start laughing. I sag against the row of sinks and bury my face in my hands, my laughter taking on notes of both hilarity and panic.

  “Did you see her face?” Sunday gasps when she stops howling long enough to catch her breath, her worries about Hali’s comment put aside for another time. The restroom door flies open, making me jump, and Aylie is standing there, flushed and grinning like a fool.

  “Aha!” She leans back into the hallway and loudly calls to Roxy. “They’re in here!” A flurry of footsteps later, they both barrel into the room with us, this time Roxy standing guard with her back to the door. I assume they’re well aware of whatever Hali was referring to in the comments she made to Sunday, and that assumption seems to be confirmed when they both look at Sunday questioningly, and she gives a slight nod back.

  Right then, moving on.

  “Is it true? Did you find out Callum Torsten is your biological father?” Roxy asks, always the blunt one.

  “The paternity test results aren’t back yet, but I couldn’t resist.” I shrug. “She’s gotten worse since that night, hasn’t she?”

  Aylie grimaces and nods affirmatively.

  “I’m so sorry she said all that crap about your mom, Stell. That was totally uncalled for,” the small redhead says.

  “It was, but I get the impression even if she knew what happened to my mom, she still would’ve said what she did. She’s well on her way to becoming just like her father.”

  “Shit, that’s a scary thought, isn’t it?” Sunday gives a little shudder.

  “You should have seen Poe’s reaction,” Roxy says.

  “I don’t really care what he thought, Rox,” I say in the most convincing tone I can muster.

  Lie.

  “Poe Halliday can drop off the face of the earth. He and his opinions mean nothing to me anymore.”

  Another lie.

  “Let’s just go to class. I’m sure our teachers can’t wait to load us up with assignments for all the work we missed when we were gone,” Sunday says, effectively changing the direction of the conversation. I give my face a brief once over in the mirror and nudge my best friend gratefully as the four of us leave the restroom and head for class.

  Sunday was right with her prediction. While our teachers did have a certain sympathy for my situation, they didn’t skimp on the make-up assignments. Cecily told the school I was dealing with a private family issue but refused to give them any further details. Sunday’s parents echoed her explanation. Either the teachers were pissed because they only got a half-assed reason for us not being in class for the last two weeks, or they were just being dicks because they could.

  By the time lunch rolls around, I’m already loaded down with homework, and my stomach is growling. I completely forgot about the apple I shoved in my purse this morning, so I haven’t eaten since dinner last night. Sunday’s moaning about how it’s physically impossible the amount of homework assignments we have equals what we missed in class when I meet her and Roxy at my locker. Happy to dump my books and pretend they don’t exist for the next hour, I slam the metal door shut and grab my two friends, practically dragging them to the cafeteria.

  “Wait, where’s Aylie?” I ask, coming to a sudden halt just outside the lunchroom doors.

  “She said she had something to take care of and she’d meet us here,” Roxy says with a shrug.

  “Good enough for me. I’m starving.” Walking into the cafeteria is a singularly weird experience. It looks like news of my confrontation with Hali the Horrible has spread, and I’m greeted with nods and smiles. The line at the pasta bar is suddenly non-existent and the three of us move to fill our plates quickly.

  “Dude. I think that girl over there just curtsied at me,” I say to Sunday under my breath, only half-joking.

  “You’re famous,” she giggles. “You stood up against the dragon and lived to tell about it,” she intones in the fake British accent she does so badly. I roll my eyes at her theatrics and we all walk over to sit at our usual table, with me making sure I’m at the opposite end from Poe.

  “Hey Stell, it’s good to see you,” Heller grins down the table at me.

  “It’s good to see you too, Surfer Boy.” The affectionate nickname I gave him when I first started school here rolls off my tongue with ease. I can tell he’s relieved he’s not on the outs with me like Poe is.

  A pair of bright green eyes and a dazzling smile sit down across from me.

  “May I admire your verbal throw down with She Who Shall Not be Named this morning?” Raff asks.

  “You may.” I play
along with him and nod regally, enjoying the easy camaraderie between us.

  “Well played, madam, well played indeed.” He stands and gives me an elaborate bow, complete with a hand flourish that has me chuckling before he sits back down.

  I continue to enjoy my lunch and the company of my friends while still ignoring Poe, though I can feel his eyes on me now and then. Abruptly, the conversation on the other side of the table stops, and four sets of male eyes are peering suspiciously behind me. I nearly topple out of my chair when a hand reaches out and taps me on the shoulder. Twisting around, I raise my eyes to the warm sherry colored ones looking down at me. Something about the position feels really awkward, so I push back my chair and stand, acutely aware of the stares boring holes in my back.

  “Uh, hi. Can I help you?” I ask with polite uncertainty.

  “Stella, right?” The voice is as warm as the eyes and instantly puts a person at ease, like real maple syrup on fresh pancakes. At my nod, he continues. “I’m Wes. I don’t think we’ve met before.” I smile at him, encouraging him to keep talking because I still have no idea what he wants. “I know you’re pretty new in town, and I was wondering if you’d like to go out sometime. Catch a movie or dinner maybe?” His question has a hopeful lilt to it that’s quashed before I can even answer, thanks to the King of the Jackasses behind me.

  “Move along, Opie. She’s neither available nor interested,” Poe all but growls. I have no idea how, but the asshole manages to look menacing even though he’s casually lounging in his chair, arms crossed over his chest.

  “Thanks dick, I can answer for myself.” I half snarl at him.

  “Still the only dick in the room, Star, as far as you’re concerned,” he chuckles. Infuriated, I turn back to Wes.

  “Sorry Wes, now’s not really a good time. Do you think we could talk later?” He smiles down at me and I can feel the jealousy absolutely pouring off Poe. So, of course I reach my hand out and touch Wes’ arm, because I can play the asshole game just as well as he can. “Thanks so much for asking me. I’m flattered.”

  My potential date gives me a last grin and walks off to join the line for the pasta bar. I spin around and Raff, Heller, and Payne all immediately become very interested in the food left on their plates, while the arrogant prick at the end of the table stares right at me. Seething, I lean forward and forcefully plant my palms on the table in front of me.

  “Listen here, asshole, because I’m not one for repeating myself. You had your shot and you blew it—you violated my trust and now we’re done. So, fuck you very much, and feel free to let me live my life.” I storm out of the cafeteria and run into Aylie just as she’s about to go in.

  “Hey, did Wes find you?” she asks.

  “That was your doing? He found me alright, and boy oh boy, Poe was not pleased.” I tell her.

  “Good. That was the point. I told you he needed to be reminded that he wasn’t the be all and end all—now he has been.” She smiles angelically at me and then walks into the cafeteria, leaving me staring after her open-mouthed and a little in awe.

  Well alrighty then. Apparently feisty things come in small packages.

  I shake my head, a small smile on my lips as Sunday comes running out into the hallway.

  “You good?” she asks.

  “I’m good.” I nod, and the two of us head to our lockers.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Dragging my ass out of bed on Tuesday, I stand in the middle of my room and stare at my phone in embarrassment and frustration.

  Seventeen text messages.

  I sent her seventeen text messages ranging from ‘hi’ to ‘I’m sorry’ to ‘why the fuck won’t you talk to me’, and not one of them was answered. I also vaguely remember two phone calls and the earful I got from Sunday when she picked up the second one.

  I’m such an ass. But so is Stella for not talking to me. How the hell can I apologize if she won’t listen?

  I shower, throw on my school uniform, and go down to the kitchen. My father is at the table drinking coffee and reading the morning paper. He peers at me over the top of the pages as I drop into the chair across from him, and instantly his whole demeanor changes. Sighing, he folds his paper as carefully as he chooses his next words.

  “Something the matter, son?” He knows damn well something's the matter and can probably hazard a pretty good guess as to what it is, but he’s allowing me to come clean on my own.

  “She knows. I told her on Sunday.” My voice is hollow.

  “I see.”

  “That’s all you’re going to say? I see?” My frustration at the situation and anger at my own stupidity float just beneath my words.

  “What else can I say, Poe? When you told me about Stella for the first time, I warned you. That news about Catherine came damn close to breaking me—I can’t even imagine what it did to her daughter. You needed to tell her right away, before you two really got close. As strange as it might seem, waiting until she cared about you as much as she obviously did only made things worse. Instead of dealing with only the news that her mother had passed away, she got the news and had to deal with your dishonesty on top of it. So not only did you give her bad news, you compounded it with being an untrustworthy ass.” His expression hovers between disappointed and feeling sorry for me. That look and him calling me untrustworthy pisses me off. Mostly because, in this case, I feel like he’s fully justified in both.

  “So what the hell do I do now? I can’t just let it end like this.” I feel my grip on my emotions slipping, and my dad’s face starts to swim as tears fill my eyes.

  “You have to give her time. And then you have to talk to her, try to explain, and hope she’ll listen. That’s pretty much all you can do.” Standing, he comes around the table to stand behind me and rests both hands on my shoulders. “I’m sorry son,” he says with a heavy sigh. “I really hope you two can work this out.”

  His words are followed by a shrill cackle from the doorway between the kitchen and the hall. We both look up, startled, and see my mother standing there in all her bullshit glory.

  And she’s laughing.

  Laughing at me and what happened and what I’m feeling. If I didn’t hate the woman who gave birth to me before, I sure as hell do now.

  “Shouldn’t you be trying to climb into a bottle of Grey Goose right about now? What the fuck are you standing there laughing at?” I push myself to my feet and stand beside my father, my hands clenched.

  “Isn’t that sweet? Loser daddy telling his equally loser son ‘I told you so’.” She smiles cruelly and leans her shoulder against the doorframe. In her case, I’m pretty sure it's less about affect and more about actually keeping her upright. “I can’t be the only one who sees the hilarity here,” she pouts. “Where’s your sense of humor? Once again, a holier than thou Halliday has lost the Bradleigh bitch he uses to keep his dick wet. It’s like the best rerun of my favorite sitcom—watching Halliday men get screwed over by their whores.” Her grin stretches from ear to ear, and I take a step forward, ready to wipe it off her face. My father puts an arm out in front of me.

  “Don’t bother. You go on to school son, and leave your mother to me.” Even in my current state of rage, pain, and frustration, the unexpected note I hear in his voice gives me goosebumps. Turning to look at his face, I do a double-take at the darkness that’s settled over his features and decide it’s time to get the hell out of dodge.

  The entire drive to school is filled with my mind playing Shoulda Coulda Woulda with me, and I lose every time. I try to drown it out with ‘The Offering’ by Sleep Token and then again with ‘Resentment’ by A Day to Remember, but the throb of my pounding headache finally forces me to drive in silence instead.

  The scene with my mother this morning did nothing to improve my mood, and I can feel myself teetering on the edge of self-destruction. When I was younger, that meant fights—lots and lots of split lips and bloody knuckles. Once girls became a thing, the need to escape into violence became the need
to escape between a willing female’s thighs. Neither option is helpful in any way, but violence would be preferable to pussy—even my dumb ass is smart enough to know that would fuck everything up even more.

  Parking in the half-full lot at school, I see the guys waiting for me on the steps, along with Aylie and Roxy. I take a last look at my reflection in the rearview mirror and will myself to get my shit together. I slam the car door a little too hard and cross the lot to join them.

  “You look like shit,” Payne greets me.

  “Good fucking morning to you, too,” I snap back at him. Stuffing my hands in the pockets of my school blazer, I lean back against the stone railing and brood.

  “What the hell, bro? You okay?” Raff asks, looking concerned.

  “Yeah, I’m fine. Girl shit. Drop it.” He shrugs and goes back to talking to Heller while I feel Payne’s eyes on me and hear Aylie snort with disdain. Come to think of it, both her and Roxy are keeping their distance from me, our usual tight-knit group a little more spread out this morning.

  “Problem, Ayles?” I ask. She arches an eyebrow at me and turns back to her conversation with Roxy without saying a word to me.

  Alright, those two have obviously been talking to Stella and Sunday. Fantastic.

  I groan and am about to try to smooth things over when the breeze carries bits of Aerosmith to my ears, along with the deep rumble of an engine running more elbow grease than electronics.

  “What the hell is that?” I question under my breath, but apparently loud enough for Raff to hear. He moves beside me and throws his arm over my shoulders.

  “That, my friend, is a seriously hot, mint condition 1969 Chevy Camaro SS.” We all turn and watch as the glossy black on black muscle car turns into the parking lot and slips into an empty spot. The music shuts off, and the windows go up before the two occupants step out onto the asphalt.

 

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