The Proxy: A Reverse Harem Bully Romance (The Thorns of Rosewood Book 2)

by Cassie James

  The anguish in his green eyes makes my heart hurt so damn bad. My fingers splay on his cheeks and jaw, and I run my thumbs in gentle, soothing caresses over his cheekbones. He sighs, leaning into the touch as his eyes flutter closed, and the gesture takes my breath away. My stomach tightens, and I’m positive my knees would give out from under me if I tried to stand. This whole time, all I’ve wanted was to comfort someone, and for the first time now I’ve got a sincere chance to do just that. Tyler needs comfort more than anyone I know—and I’m not sure how I didn’t quite realize that sooner.

  A low groan escapes me. I don’t deserve forgiveness for the things I’ve done. And Piper didn’t deserve what happened to her. Not any of it. She’s so much softer than the old Piper, and I like that about her. The thought almost makes me turn and leave, but I force my hand to rise and ring the doorbell.

  I fix a smile on my face that I hope looks genuine as Roman Hawthorne answers the door with knitted eyebrows. There’s something dark hiding behind his eyes, and my stomach bottoms out. What if he’s read the log? Roman and I have always gotten along about as well as any boyfriend does with a girlfriend’s dad. I didn’t think to consider that he might now know all about how I fucked his replacement daughter and then let her leave in silence like it meant nothing at all.

  “Hey, Mr. Hawthorne,” I say slowly. I’ve called him Roman in the past, but it doesn’t feel right at the moment.

  I brace myself for the worst, so I’m surprised when he holds the door open and beckons me inside. “Hey, Tyler,” he responds, and the exhaustion lacing his tone makes me study him a little closer in the light of the foyer. There are dark bags under his eyes, and the lines on his face are more pronounced than I’ve ever seen them before.

  “We weren’t expecting you.”

  “Oh.” I shuffle from side to side. Of course they weren’t. Piper probably doesn’t want anything to do with me—I’m surprised enough of the old Piper hasn’t bled over for her to demand that her parents not let any of The Thorns set foot in their house. “Yeah, Piper hasn’t been responding to anyone’s texts. I just wanted to, you know... I just wanted to make sure she’s okay.”

  “Roman?” Jackie calls from somewhere deeper in the house. He sucks in a breath through his teeth and snaps the door closed behind us. I can hear the click-clack-click of high heels on the stairs as Jackie calls out again, “Roman, was there someone at the door?”

  “Tyler,” Roman starts, and there’s a seriousness to him that I’ve never seen. “What you have to understand about Piper...” He struggles with his words. “She’s different. We’ve had to—”

  “What is he doing here?” Jackie screeches, the sound slightly panicked as she looks at me with wild eyes. Jackie Hawthorne, the woman usually so prim and proper, looks downright scattered. Her clothes are rumpled and she can’t seem to look at any one place. She waves her hands wildly through the air. “We’ve only just gotten things sorted with Stan, and now this? Roman, we’re not ready for visitors yet!”

  I mentally catalog what she’s just said. Stan. I’m pretty sure that’s the guy that made Piper. What did they need to sort with him, I wonder?

  Roman gives his wife a sharp look. “You know what, Jackie? It will probably do Piper some good to spend time with Tyler. He’s probably spent more time with her than any of us. He’s obviously the best choice to help bring her up to speed.”

  I take a step forward as Jackie’s face takes on a pinched quality that shouldn’t be possible considering all the Botox. I’m not sure exactly what’s going on, but I figure I need to use it to my advantage. “If there’s a problem with Piper, I’m sure I can help. I’ve spent time with her, I know the replacement about as well as I did… Piper.” Not completely the truth, and based on the rage that crosses Jackie’s face, also not the right thing to say at the moment.

  She lets out what sounds like some kind of battle cry. “Don’t you dare talk about it. That thing, she wasn’t our daughter.”

  I jerk back a step. Thing? My palms start to sweat as I spare a glance in Roman’s direction. He doesn’t look at me, but I can see his jaw is rigid as he crosses his arms over his chest. Where the fuck is Piper?

  “She’s better now,” Jackie says, more to herself than to me. I nod along numbly, but inside my mind is racing into overdrive to try to make sense of this. The only thing I can think is—fuck. They reset her. It’s the only explanation. They didn’t like what they got, so they started over. It’s what Roman was just trying to warn me about.

  I have to clear my throat before I manage to ask, “Can I see her?” There’s a split second that it looks like Jackie’s going to send me packing, so I grit my teeth and play along, as much as it pains me. “I know your daughter better than anyone. I can help.” The words are ash in my mouth. I’m not sure if I can help the girl that’s upstairs, not if she’s been wiped clean. “I’d like to try, at least.”

  Jackie’s eyes are still reluctant, but eventually she nods and tells me Piper’s in her room. My feet feel weighed down as I leave the Hawthornes to walk up the staircase toward their daughter’s bedroom. I’ve made this walk so many times before, but none of them recent, and none of them ever felt as heavy as this.

  I’m barely dragging my feet forward as I reach her bedroom. I’m nervous as hell about what’s waiting for me on the other side of the door, but I knock anyway. “God, what!” I hear her call out with obvious annoyance. I close my eyes for a second. It’s been a long time since I heard that voice. Piper’s replacement didn’t talk like that before, not with that harsh, ugly tone. It’s so fucking jarring to hear her voice like that again.

  I push past all the memories of times Piper snapped at me, or at some other poor unsuspecting person who dared get in her way. I try not to think about how much I want to hear 2.0’s sweet voice again.

  When I open the door, she’s sitting in the middle of her bed, her laptop perched in front of her and pictures scattered around her on the comforter. Her long hair is pulled into a knot at the top of her head, and she’s casual in a pair of leggings and a baggy UCLA sweatshirt. My sweatshirt. It’s like walking back in time. I was the only one back then that got to see her like this, dressed down without a full face of makeup. This isn’t Piper, this is Piper—as goddamn confusing as that is. What the fuck did they do to her?

  “Hey, Pipe.” I try out the old nickname, and my stomach lurches at the way her shoulders stiffen for half a second before she turns cold, calculating eyes in my direction. The tiniest of smiles quirks over her lips as she stares me up and down, but overall, she seems indifferent to my presence. If she has any idea what the hell we’ve all been through in the past few weeks, she doesn’t show it.

  “I wasn’t expecting you,” she replies simply before turning her attention back toward her computer. The harsh quality of her tone is replaced with cold detachment, and hope blossoms inside of me. Way to be an asshole and expect the worst, an ugly voice in the back of my mind speaks up, but I can’t pay it much attention as relief floods through me. Anger I can handle. Dealing with an entirely new Piper? Not so much.

  I take tentative steps toward her bed, half expecting her to move away from me as I approach, but she stays where she is glancing between the screen and the photos laid out around her. “I didn’t know if you would agree to see me even if I told you I was coming. And it’s not like you’ve been answering your texts the past few days, anyway.”

  “Of course not,” she says dismissively, and I’m finally close enough to see her screen. She’s toggling through her social media accounts and some sort of spreadsheet, making notes every few seconds as she scrolls through the pages. Every now and then, she’ll reach for a picture before filing it into another location next to her, in a system that I don’t quite understand. She turns her eyes in my direction after a picture of us at prom fills her screen, and I suck in a deep breath at the determination in her gaze. “I just came back earlier today.”

  I didn’t think things could get
any worse than Brennan’s fuck up but this… this is much fucking worse. I’m right. I have to be right. The Hawthornes have reset their replacement daughter. They’ve started over. And this time, she’s a hell of a lot closer to the old Piper than the first time around.

  “Pipe.” The nickname falls flat. I don’t want to fucking use it. I try again, “Piper, you’ve been back since August. It’s November now.”

  “No.” She looks so certain, no question at all in her eyes as I stand here with nothing but questions. How could they just reset her? How could the man that made her let them? Couldn’t they see she was a person? A whole, real person, no matter what bits and pieces made up her insides. “So, have Tori and Chelsey been just unbearable without me? I’m sure Tori thought she’d take up the reigns in my absence, but don’t worry, it won’t be hard to cut her back down to her rightful place. She’s weak. It does make for a great second-in-command, though, having someone so easy to manipulate.”

  “Piper, stop!” Listening to her is making me sick. There should be some kind of comfort in hearing her sound so much like her old self, but I’m suddenly seeing something that was all too easy to overlook before. She’s a goddamn, self-centered bitch. I mean, yeah, I knew what people said about her, but I still thought the good outweighed the bad. Was I only ever thinking with my dick? Because now I can barely stomach the sound of her voice.

  In this moment, something becomes very clear to me. I felt more than my share of guilt about what happened on Prom night, but I didn’t really miss the real Piper, not the way I catch myself now missing her original replacement.

  Piper lets out a long sigh, the one that says she’s tired of dealing with me. “Tyler, you should go. I don’t have time to deal with you right now while I’m sorting this whole mess out.” She gestures to her laptop and the mess of photos.

  “Piper—”

  “Get. Out.”

  I can’t let this end right here. As much as I want to get the hell away from this new Piper, I’ve got to leave the door open to try to figure this shit out. To try to bring my Piper back. The first replacement. The sweet girl that only wanted to comfort me.

  “I’m going,” I tell her carefully. “Let me take you to school this week though, okay? I don’t think you’ll be allowed to drive.” Another flicker of annoyance crosses her face but she gives me a short nod. “Great.” I let my nearly numb legs carry me away from her and toward the door. “See you Monday.”

  4

  Jude

  I stare at Brennan over the edge of my glass, nursing the expensive whiskey that my parents stock. He’s got his face buried in his phone because he’s trying to avoid talking to me. It fucking figures that after years of getting on my nerves by being too soft, Brennan finally stepped up and did something worthy of his place in The Thorns. Only it was too much, too late. Getting rid of 2.0 was a fun game for a couple months, but now I’ve found something more interesting to play.

  Fucking her, being the first to conquer her—that’s a pleasure that will always be mine alone. But there’s something I didn’t get to do. Something that Tyler and Brennan managed to do when they got their sloppy seconds and thirds. Making her come. So now? The only game I’m interested in playing is the one where I get another go at her. And this time, I’m going to run her dry.

  I rub my hand over my chest as if it’ll actually fucking do anything, trying to dislodge that tight spot that seems to have become a permanent fixture these past couple weeks.

  There’s no time for me to try to analyze the goddamn ache that won’t go away, because Tyler’s finally back. He instantly has my full fucking attention. Brennan finally tears his eyes away from his phone as Tyler shuffles slowly into the room, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his jeans as he looks anywhere but at us.

  “Well?” I prompt him impatiently when he doesn’t speak. He looks at me, fucking finally, but the look in his eyes almost makes me wish he hadn’t. There’s something haunted about his gaze as his mouth stays closed in a firm line. I don’t trust the fact that he isn’t telling us what the hell went down at the Hawthornes’ place. “Did you talk to her?”

  He nods slowly. “Yeah…” he trails off, the but hanging in the air between us.

  I slam my glass down on the bar top, whiskey sloshing over the sides of the glass, but I don’t give a damn. I can only think of one reason he’d be reluctant to tell us what happened. He fucked her. It’s the only explanation, that sleazy goddamn motherfucker. My gut burns with betrayal—at Tyler or at Piper, I’m not even really sure anymore.

  “Fuck you, Hamilton,” I bite out. “I would’ve gone to Piper’s myself if I knew all you were after was a second round.” I offer him the hardest sneer I can muster. “Guess now that bro code’s out the window anyway, you figure it’s a fucking free-for-all.”

  “Don’t,” he grunts, his voice so low I almost don’t hear the word. “I didn’t touch her, Alton. So back off.” I didn’t even realize I’d been creeping closer, fists clenched, until he says it.

  Brennan pushes his way between us, as if his pansy ass would actually do anything if Tyler and I came to blows. It doesn’t do any good, either, because the second Brennan is in Tyler’s face he gives him a hard shove. I take a step back, content to watch them go at it instead of throwing punches myself.

  Tyler points his finger in Brennan’s face. “This is all your goddamn fault,” he spits angrily. Brennan’s quick to back down. Putting his hands up in surrender as he hangs his head. What the fuck else is he supposed to do? He knows as well as I do that Tyler’s right. This bullshit is only happening because Brennan couldn’t get ahold of his goddamn feelings.

  “Just tell us if she’s okay,” Brennan manages to get out despite how tightly his jaw is clenched.

  A silence falls over the room as Brennan and I wait for Tyler to fucking say something already. To tell us what’s going on. Let us in on whatever little secret he’s clearly wishing he could hide. Because we’re The Thorns—there are no secrets between us.

  “Tyler, goddammit.” I’m getting really fucking fed up with waiting for an answer. “If you don’t tell us what the hell happened, I’m going to go over there myself. And I’ll tell you right now, to hell with both of you if I go there because I’ll do whatever the fuck I want, do you get me?”

  “They had her reset.” Tyler’s voice cracks in a way it hasn’t since we were in fucking middle school.

  My ears are ringing. That must be why I misheard him. Reset. That’s not a thing. It can’t be a thing. But then I make one crucial mistake—and look over at Brennan. The horror on his face confirms something I wasn’t ready to face. It’s a thing, alright. What the actual fuck?

  “You better explain right fucking now, Hamilton.” Or I’m going to beat his ass just to have some outlet for my frustration.

  Tyler laces his hands behind his head and paces the length of the room. “I think it’s Jackie’s fucking fault. She seems to think there was something wrong with Piper the first time, and that she can somehow magically make her better. More like…” He hesitates before finishing the thought. “More like the old Piper.”

  I turn the words over in my head as Tyler glares at me. There’s a challenge in his eyes, though I’m not sure why the hell that is. He’s the one with all the information. He’s holding all the cards. He glances over at Brennan, who seems to catch on to something I haven’t. And then they’re both staring at me like they’re waiting for me to say something. Or do something. Shit, I don’t know.

  “What? What the fuck are you staring at me for?” I growl. I’m not in the mood for these goddamn games. Not when the room suddenly feels too damn hot.

  “Figured you’d be overjoyed to hear the news,” Tyler mutters, looking down at his feet as if he can’t look at me a second longer. Brennan looks away, too. Apparently, the feeling is mutual. “She’s more like… how you like her. Cruel. Shrewd.” He says it as if those weren’t traits we all admired about Piper once upon a time.

 
; But goddamn if I don’t get it. Because yeah, that’s exactly what I liked about Piper, and I’m standing here waiting for something like relief to rush through me when I hear him say it, but that feeling doesn’t come. Instead, all I feel is more dread.

  Piper was the queen to my king at Rosewood Academy, but only in the most platonic way. We played well off each other, keeping everyone in check and leading with iron fists. That’s all it was, two people leading a kingdom together, tolerating each other because the hierarchy demanded it. We respected each other—and that had been enough. So when the fuck had that stopped being enough?

  I cross my arms over my chest, trying to portray a carelessness that I can’t seem to talk myself into. “I don’t know why the hell you’re so torn up over it. Isn’t that what we wanted all along, anyway? If Piper’s going to have a replacement shouldn’t it at least be an accurate one?”

  I want to give them both shit for the way their faces fall, but I can’t find the words. I’ve never been fucking speechless before, but after what just came out of my mouth, I can’t seem to spit anything else out. It isn’t what I fucking want. I shouldn’t be feeling like this, dazed and unsettled. I’m not the soft one. I should be relieved as fuck that the Hawthornes are finally rectifying their mistake and fixing the replacement they bought and paid for. I shouldn’t care that they wiped the Piper we’ve come to know these past few months. The girl that looked at me like I could be something better than I am.

  She’s just a robot—an android, whatever. Whatever, or whoever, she is, there’s no future for her. She should be whatever the Hawthornes want her to be. That’s the only reason she’s even here. So what do I care that Jackie fucked everything up and stole from me what was mine?

  “Dammit!” I roar.

  I turn and stalk away from Tyler and Brennan, knocking my glass off the bar just so I can hear the satisfying sound of it smashing against the floor. I can feel their eyes on me but I don’t want to fucking look at them and I sure as hell don’t want them looking at me. I’ve lost my goddamn mind. I don’t want to feel any kind of ownership over 2.0, and I sure as hell don’t want to start feeling like there’s anything more than that, either. But dammit, I can’t deny that there is something. Something I don’t understand, but it’s there, nonetheless.