by Erin Watt
Speaking of Ella, she strides into my room less than a minute after Dad departs it. Her blonde hair is up in a high ponytail and she’s wearing yoga pants and a State football jersey with Reed’s number on the front.
Oh crap. I forgot we’re flying out to Reed’s away game today. His team’s playing Louisiana State.
“What the hell is the matter with you?” Ella’s ponytail swings rapidly as she advances on me.
“That question’s too vague, baby sis. There’s tons of shit wrong with me.”
“You acted like a jackass last night,” she accuses.
“So you mean I acted the way I always do?”
Dismay fills her blue eyes. “No, that’s not how you act, at least not toward me.”
I scan my brain trying to remember what I’d done or said to Ella yesterday. When I got to Felicity’s, Ella and Val had been dancing. I’d gotten into it with that jackass Zeke, and Ella had interfered. And I…oh right. I made some juvenile comment about how she has Reed whipped, and mocked her about whether she begged my brother when they were in bed together.
I swallow a sigh. Damn. I really am an asshole.
“Why do you do this stuff?” she asks.
Aw hell, her bottom lip is trembling. Swear to God, if she starts to cry—
But Ella recovers quickly. Her mouth flattens and her chin sticks out. The girl has steel in her blood. Nothing keeps her down. Ever. It’s no wonder my brother fell for her the moment she walked through our front door.
“You have addiction issues, Easton.”
“No, really?”
Her eyes flash. “It’s not something to joke about.”
No, it isn’t. The last person in our family who had addiction issues fucking killed herself. But I’m not like my mom. I love life too much to off myself.
“So I like to drink,” I say with a shrug. “Big deal. It’s not like I’m popping pills anymore.” I search my closet for my own State jersey. “When does the jet leave?” I ask over my shoulder.
“In an hour.” From the corner of my eye, I see her crossing her arms. “But you’re not going to be on it.”
I spin around. “Fuck that. Reed has a game.”
“I don’t want you there,” she returns with a scowl.
I can’t help but laugh. “Gee, little sis, well, if you don’t want me there, I guess I’ll just stay home.” I pull the jersey off its hanger. “Not.”
“I mean it,” she says in a haughty voice that gets my back up. “You were such a jerk last night, not just to me, but to Val and Bran and—I can’t even believe I’m saying this—Felicity. You don’t deserve to come to New Orleans with us and watch Reed play and then eat yummy beignets and enjoy dinner on Bourbon Street. That’s like inviting the raccoon who just threw your trash all over the lawn to come inside and do the same thing in your kitchen.”
“Luckily, you don’t have a say in whether or not I come,” I say snidely. Did she just compare me to a fucking raccoon?
“You sure about that?” Smirking, she takes her phone out of her pocket and types something.
Less than ten seconds later, my own phone buzzes on the nightstand. With suspicious eyes fixed on Ella, I back up toward the bed and grab the phone. I read the incoming text message. It’s from Reed.
Stay home today. Don’t want you here
A jolt of outrage sizzles up my spine. Are they fucking kidding me?
“So that’s how it’s gonna be, huh?” I mutter angrily. And I love how she’s mad at me because I said she’s got my brother whipped. She just proved my case!
“Until you get your shit together?” Ella says. “Yes.”
She spins on her heel and flounces out of the room, a golden tornado of self-righteousness.
* * *
Ella and Reed weren’t joking around. I’m legit barred from flying to Louisiana with Dad and my traitorous stepsister, forced to watch them saunter out the door without a backward look. Damn childish, if you ask me.
But whatever. That just means I get to spend the day lounging around the house and being lazy by the pool. I can handle one afternoon by myself. Lazy’s fun, I lie to myself.
I sprawl out on a lounger, a bottle of water and one of beer on the little table next to me. I alternate taking sips from each bottle, so I can stay both hydrated and buzzed. And luckily, there’s nobody around to lecture me about day drinking.
Between naps, my mind drifts to Hartley. I try calling her, but she doesn’t answer. I know she’s not working today, so that means she’s ignoring me.
What’s her problem? I don’t get why she won’t talk to me about anything. I told her stuff about my mom, didn’t I? She can’t trust me to reveal a single detail in return? And that necklace was a gift. Who returns gifts? Why is everything about her so difficult? She should’ve just stayed in boarding school. Then she wouldn’t fucking be here driving me fucking nuts.
And why did she come back? Who wouldn’t want to go to boarding school? Think of all the freedom. I mean…I’d miss my family, but I wouldn’t mind being sent away from home. Would I?
It bothered Hartley. It bothered her enough that she returned to Bayview against her parents’ wishes. How would I feel if I couldn’t see my brothers at all?
It would suck. I can barely tolerate being banished for a day without having to drown my sorrows.
I check myself. Why the hell am I being so pathetic? I can handle being by myself for a day. Or a week. Or a year, if necessary. Hartley’s a big baby if she can’t hack it at a boarding school. Running back home where she’s not even wanted? Why do that? Make a new life for yourself.
I take a long swig of beer. I don’t know why I care, anyway. I don’t need Hartley, not even as a friend. I can call up any chick and she’d race over here to chill with me. I can have anyone I want. Chicks can’t resist me—and that includes the dark-haired girl who suddenly appears on the patio holding hands with my brother.
The moment Savannah Montgomery and I lock eyes, a thread of tension stretches between us.
I shift awkwardly and take another sip of my beer. “Hey,” I mumble at the newcomers.
They’re both wearing swimsuits, and Gideon has a couple towels draped over one muscular arm. He’s been coming home nearly every weekend since he and Savannah got back together. Sav’s at college with him because she graduated a year early, but I guess there’s more privacy for them here in Bayview. They both have roommates at school.
“Hey. You mind if we swim?” Gid asks.
“No. Go nuts.” I gesture to the pool and stretch out on my lounger again. “I’m taking a nap. Hey, Sav—how’s life as a college woman?”
“Hi,” she says tightly. “Life’s good.”
I feel a sliver of irritation, the same chagrin I felt toward Ms. Mann when she acted as if it was all my fault that we hooked up.
Savannah and I slept together last year, way before she and Gid got back together. At that point she was still out to hurt him, and I was out to hurt…myself, I guess.
Reed had just run Ella out of town, and I’d been pissed. Any attraction I felt for Ella was gone by then, but our connection wasn’t. Truth is, although I have a lot of friends, I don’t actually have many friends. It’s all surface-level shit.
With Ella, it was more than a surface friendship. I trusted her. Still do, even though she acted like a total bitch this morning.
I lost it when Reed’s idiotic actions drove her away. I spiraled. Spiraled hard, like one of Atlantic Aviation’s test planes that doesn’t make the grade and crashes in the desert, sending Dad’s engineers back to the drawing board to figure out what design flaw led to the crash. I’m the design flaw in the Royal family, the one who isn’t quite like the others, the one who crashes and burns more often than not.
That said, nobody forced Savannah to be with me. And yeah, I felt guilty after it happened, but not guilty enough to shoulder all the blame. There’d been two people in that bed. Gideon knows this, and he doesn’t condemn us for that. H
onestly, I think he’s so happy to be back with his girl that he’s willing to forgive all her sins. Considering his own list of sins, he’d be a hypocrite not to.
“Decided not to go to Reed’s game?” Gid asks as he drops the towels on the lounger next to mine. I guess nobody told him I’ve been banished from Louisiana.
“Wasn’t feeling up to it,” I lie. “I’ve got a hangover.”
“I heard,” he says dryly.
Savannah drifts toward the shallow end and dips a toe in. “Water’s nice,” she calls to Gideon. “Let’s swim, Gid.”
“Be there in a sec.” He looks to me again. “Sawyer said your new quarterback carried your drunken ass home last night and tucked you into bed.”
I make a mental note to beat Sawyer’s ass later. Or Sebastian’s. Either twin will do, since those fuckers are pretty much one person. Just ask their girlfriend.
“You need to slow down with the drinking,” Gideon advises me. “You’re getting too old for this shit, East. I thought you wanted to fly again.”
The words grate. Gid can be such a judgmental ass sometimes. “I will fly again. I’m just waiting until I’m out of the house and away from the parental unit. Besides, just because college turned you into an old man doesn’t mean I’m going to follow in your footsteps, dude. I wanna enjoy being a teenager for as long as I can.”
The disappointment on his face grates even more. “Sure, East. Go ahead and enjoy it, then.”
He walks over to Savannah, I sit back on the lounger, the two of them jump into the pool, and we all pretend that I haven’t seen my older brother’s girlfriend naked.
Chapter 22
The rest of the weekend goes by fast. I think about Hartley more than I should, but no matter how bad I want to track her down, I manage to find some restraint. I decide I’ll just wait and talk to her at school. Apologize for being an ass to her and hope she’s not too stubborn to forgive me.
On Sunday night, Ella decides she’s talking to me again. She joins me in the media room, turning her nose up at the TV screen. I’m watching a Tarantino movie, and it’s gory as hell.
“Someone’s in a bloody mood,” she remarks with a wince.
I shrug and keep looking at the screen. “Oh, we’re suddenly speaking to each other?”
“Yes.” Remorse colors her voice.
I hide a smile. Thing about Ella is, she’s not as tough as she makes herself out to be. She’s got the kindest heart of anyone I’ve ever met, and she cares fiercely about people. If she believes you’re worth her time and effort, she’ll move heaven and earth to make you feel loved and appreciated.
“I know I’ve been a jerk to you this weekend,” she admits. “I was doing it on purpose.”
I smirk. “No, really?”
She wanders over and flops down beside me. “I was trying to prove a point.”
“What, that you’re really awesome at giving the silent treatment?”
“No. That your actions drive people away.” She shakes her head in disappointment. “So many people care about you, East. Your dad, your brothers, me, Val, your teammates—we love you.”
My spine feels itchy, like a hundred porcupine quills are pricking it. I instinctively lean forward to grab my glass and then remember it’s soda water. Dammit, I need something stronger.
I start to get up, but Ella clamps her hand around my arm. “No,” she says gently, reading my mind. “You don’t need a drink.”
“Yeah, I kinda do.”
“Every time things get emotional, or a conversation gets a little too serious, you try to distance yourself from it. Numb yourself—”
“I don’t need another lecture.”
“It’s not a lecture.” Frustration shadows her eyes. “I just don’t like seeing you get so drunk that you talk to your own friends like they’re pieces of garbage—”
Sawyer’s voice on the intercom interrupts Ella. “Yo, East. Hartley’s here.”
Equal parts of surprise and joy shoot through me. She’s here? For real?
Without delay, I get up and hurry to the door.
Ella’s voice stops me before I can exit the room. “I love you, Easton, but I’m worried.”
The genuine concern in her voice makes me hesitate. I don’t like making Ella feel bad. She’s one of my favorite people on earth.
I slowly turn to face her. “I’m sorry I said that stuff to you at the party,” I mumble. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“I know.” She pauses. “It’s just that I want you around for a long time, so…take care of yourself.”
I give her a careless, one-finger salute. “On it.”
When I reach the front hall, I find Hartley peering into the sitting room, where Mom’s portrait hangs over the fireplace.
“That’s my mom,” I tell Hartley.
“She’s beautiful.”
“Want to go in?”
“Sure.”
I push the door open wider. The sitting room was one of Mom’s favorite places. It’s a huge room with two floor-to-ceiling windows at one end and a fireplace at the other. The last time I was in here, Dad announced his engagement with Brooke.
“You look like her,” Hartley remarks, her silver gaze still fixed on the portrait.
I stare up at my mother’s oval face. “We’ve all got her hair and eyes.”
Hartley shakes her head. “No, it’s the shape of the face. And your eyebrows. Your mother has perfect eyebrows and you do, too.”
“I guess?” I’ve never given it much thought. “Who do you look more like—your mom or dad?” I instantly wish I could take the words back. I know she hates talking about her parents. “Forget I asked.”
“No, it’s fine.” Hartley shrugs. “I look more like my dad. Parker, my sister, takes after our mother. Delicate. Sweet.”
I snort. “She didn’t seem delicate or sweet at the diner.”
Again, I want to bite my tongue off. Why do I keep saying dumb things?
But Hartley surprises me. She leans an arm against the mantel, her fingertips rubbing along the lower part of the mahogany frame. “Sweet and delicate are her weapons. You don’t want to make her angry because she’s such an angel. You want her approval. Her love and affection.”
Wow. She could be talking about my mom. “But you’ll never get it because she’s too self-absorbed.”
My turn to surprise Hartley. Her eyebrows raise a notch. “Know someone like that?”
I point to the painting.
Hartley’s pretty lips turn down at the corners. “That sucks.” She twists around to face me. Her hands are clasped. It looks like she’s holding something between them but I can’t tell what it is. “I’m sorry about the other night. I flew off the handle and got mad at you for no reason.”
I exhale as if a giant balloon inside me just popped. “No, hell. I’m sorry. I’ve been pushing you.”
She raises a hand for me to shush. “How about I apologize first and then you go?”
“Okay.” I make a zipping motion across my mouth.
Her lips twitch. “I’m very sorry for being a brat the other night. I’m sorry for yelling at you. I’m sorry for ripping off the necklace. That was terrible.” She reaches for my hand and places something in my palm.
Curiously, and with a lot of excitement, I gaze down at the gift. It’s a thin leather bracelet with a silver buckle.
“I know it’s not much—”
“It’s awesome,” I interrupt. I hold it out. “Put it on for me.”
When she does, her fingers tremble. I want to pull her into my arms and hug her, but I’ll wait until she’s done fixing the clasp.
The walnut brown leather looks good against my tanned skin, and I like the silver accent. “Love it,” I tell her.
“I know you don’t wear anything but the watch but—”
“It’s perfect. Don’t say anything else, because I love this and I won’t stand for anyone insulting it, not even you.” I hold my wrist in the air. “Looks sick.”
She grins. “I don’t know how sick it is, but I’m glad you like it. Oh. I have one other gift.”
“Yeah?” I ask cautiously. I don’t want to scare her off with my eagerness.
“My other gift is this—I did something to piss off my parents and now they’ve banished me.” Her fingers absently trace the frame of the painting. “I have another sister. Did I tell you about her?”
I shake my head. “No, but I saw her picture in the newspaper article I found online.”
“Her name’s Dylan’s. She’s thirteen. I’ve only been able to talk to her eight times in three years.”
Hartley stops talking. I can tell she’s on the verge of tears.
I take a step toward her, but she puts up a hand. “No. I can’t take any sympathy at the moment. I’ll break down and I don’t want to do that.”
“I talk to Reed at least once a week,” I find myself admitting. “I’d probably be an emotional mess if I couldn’t see or talk to my brothers more than a couple times a year.”
“Yeah… It hasn’t been easy.” She twists away and ducks her head. I suspect she’s wiping away a few tears, but I pretend not to notice.
“We should kidnap her,” I suggest.
“My sister?”
“Yup. We’ll go to her school, sneak her out during the day, and go to the pier. Whaddya say?”
“I wish.”
“I’m serious. I’m good at shenanigans. I could pull this off without a hitch. We’d buy funnel cakes, which I know from past experience you love. Headbands with animal ears. Bunnies for you and Dylan. A tiger for me.”
Hartley’s smiling. “Why not a tiger for me and bunny ears for you? You’d look cute in pink.”
“I’d be so cute that the whole midway would grind to a halt and then Dylan wouldn’t get to go on any rides.” I wink.
Hartley’s smile grows bigger, and the anxious, itchy, crabby feeling that ate at me for the past twenty-four hours fades away.
“I want to see her!” someone shouts from the front hall.
The familiar male voice freezes me in my tracks.
“Ella’s not home,” comes my father’s icy reply.