Fallen Heir

by Erin Watt

  “Fine. Then go home,” he advises. “Talk to Ella. Who knows, maybe she’s got an idea about how to solve this.”

  * * *

  As badly as I want to go after Hartley, I decide to take Pash’s advice. When I get home, I hunt my stepsister down and find her in her room, studying.

  “Got a minute?” I ask, knocking on her open door.

  Ella glances up from her book. “Yeah, come in. What’s up?”

  I give it to her straight. “Felicity framed Hartley for cheating in Calc. Hartley got suspended.”

  “Oh my God,” Ella gasps. “Why would Felicity do that to Hartley?”

  “To get back at me. I’m the one she’s actually pissed at.”

  “Of course she’s pissed. You were an ass to her at the party. But why go after Hartley and not one of your closer friends, like me or Val or Pash?”

  “I guess you haven’t checked your Insta or Snap today.”

  “No. I was with Callum and the lawyers all day.” Ella sets down her book and snatches her phone off the thick duvet.

  I drop down on the bed and lean back against the padded headboard. I know the moment she finds the picture because she gasps again.

  “Are you guys kissing in this pic?” she exclaims.

  “Almost. We kissed on the Ferris wheel, though.”

  Ella looks startled. “What happened to the rules? Hartley said you weren’t allowed to hit on her.”

  “I didn’t,” I protest. “She kissed me, for your information.”

  That shuts her up for almost thirty seconds. Her gaze bores a hole in my face. It’s like she’s trying to burrow her way into my mind and…and what? I’m not sure why she’s looking at me, but it’s starting to make me antsy.

  “Anyway,” I start.

  “Uh-uh, no. Don’t anyway me. We’re not done with this kiss thing.” Ella runs a hand through her golden hair. “So are you guys a thing now?”

  “Maybe? I don’t know.”

  Her jaw drops. “Do you want to be? You don’t do girlfriends, remember?”

  “I do lots of girls,” I drawl, dragging my tongue over my lower lip. Maybe if I turn this into something sexual, Ella will be so disgusted, she’ll drop the subject.

  Sure enough, it works. “Gross,” she says. “But, okay, it makes sense now. If Felicity thinks you and Hartley are together, then she’d definitely go after Hartley to get revenge on you.” Ella pauses. “You kinda deserve her vengeance, if I’m being honest.”

  “Thanks a lot.” I frown. “Why’re you bringing me down?”

  “Oh, are you annoyed by the truth? I’m sorry. Maybe you shouldn’t have gotten drunk, gone over to Felicity’s and humiliated her in front of all our friends and classmates. This is what happens when you don’t think about the consequences.”

  “Christ. What crawled up your ass and died?” I regret the words even before the last one is out of my mouth.

  Ella winds up and punches me in the arm.

  “Dammit!” I rub my arm and give her a wounded look, but it doesn’t work.

  She crosses her arms and glares at me.

  “Sorry about the ass comment, but can we not rehash all my past fuckups? We’ll be here until next week.”

  “Fine. But I’m not apologizing for the hit. You deserved it.”

  “Fair enough.” Girl can throw a punch. No wonder Jordan backed down. “Can you go beat Felicity up so she stops this bullshit?”

  Ella snorts. “No.”

  “Why not? It worked with Jordan.”

  “No, it didn’t. What worked last year is that we all stood together and said enough was enough with the bullying.”

  “So let’s all stand together again and say enough is enough with Felicity.”

  “Do you have proof that she’s the one who framed Hartley?”

  “Yup. She admitted it in front of Claire and a couple other girls.”

  Ella tips her head from side to side, considering this tidbit. “She must be pretty confident they aren’t going to say anything,” she finally concludes. “At this point, it’s your word against hers, and your word is crap. You’re constantly getting in trouble. Felicity is in Honor Society and is a perfect student from a great family.”

  “Thanks for the ringing endorsement,” I grumble, but we both know she’s right. Trouble is my middle name. “Maybe I should call her.”

  “And say what?”

  “I’m sorry?”

  Ella shoots me an annoyed look. “Seriously? You haven’t said that yet? That’s the first thing you should’ve done!”

  “Maybe I did.” I think back and then grimace. “I don’t remember.”

  “Then, yeah, I think you should call her and tell her you’re sorry.” Ella shakes her head a few times, as if she can’t believe she’s sharing the same space as such a moron. “In fact, buy some flowers and go to her house and tell her you were stupid and thoughtless and a jackass and that every bad thought she’s ever had about you is true, but please don’t take it out on Hartley.”

  I wince. “All of that?”

  “Yes,” Ella replies sternly. “All of it.”

  “Fine.” I curse ungraciously and launch myself off the bed. At the door, I turn around. “I still prefer the idea of you beating her up.”

  Ella throws a pillow at me. “I’m not beating her up!”

  I head downstairs and jog outside to my truck. At the end of the driveway, though, I find myself turning left instead of right.

  I didn’t like the way Hartley ran off. What if her parents are at her house, yelling at her? She probably needs moral support.

  I decide to check on Hartley first and hit up Felicity on my way back.

  I swing by a gas station and buy a pint of ice cream along with a couple of sodas and popcorn. At the check-out, I throw in two candy bars. There’s a bucket of single roses at the front and I throw one of those on top, too.

  “Pissed someone off, did you?” the clerk says as he rings me up.

  “How’d you guess?”

  “This is the ‘I’m sorry’ starter package,” he jokes.

  I snicker. Technically, only the flower is part of my apology to Felicity, but I’m still curious enough to ask, “What’s the success rate of the starter package?”

  “Depends on the scale of your wrong. Big wrong requires big apology.”

  I grab the rest of the flowers. “Let’s go big, then.”

  He swipes my card. “Good luck,” he says.

  From the tone of his voice, it’s clear he thinks I’m gonna fail.

  Ten minutes later, I park in front of Hartley’s house and kill the engine. I grab the bag of goodies and three of the flowers—Felicity doesn’t need all of them—then climb the rickety stairs two at a time. I’m raising my hand to knock on the door when I hear voices.

  “Whatever you hoped to accomplish before isn’t going to happen now. Daddy’s been ranting for the past hour.”

  I freeze. Oh shit. That’s Parker. I glance over the railing to see where I missed her Mercedes, but it’s nowhere to be seen. She either parked down the street or took an Uber.

  “I didn’t do it,” Hartley says flatly.

  “You are always so full of excuses,” Parker scoffs. “I didn’t mean to spy on you, Daddy. I didn’t mean to ruin your campaign. I didn’t mean to embarrass this whole family. I didn’t mean to ruin the family.”

  Silence falls.

  Hartley doesn’t respond. I guess there’s nothing she can say to make Parker believe in her.

  I almost knock. I almost barge in. I almost try to reason with Parker.

  But something, some divine force, stops me from doing any of that.

  I swallow, trying to force air past the rock that’s appeared in my throat. This is my fault. I got drunk and embarrassed a girl I knew better than to mess with, a girl whose claws naturally came out in retaliation. I was a thoughtless jackass. And I’d be even more thoughtless if I got in the middle of Hartley’s family feud.

  I need to f
ix this with Felicity. That’s my only play here. Once I fix it, Hartley will be able to get back into her family’s good graces and then it’ll be smooth sailing for the two of us.

  I can fix this. I can.

  Chapter 27

  The next day at school, everyone is talking about Hartley’s suspension. You’d think nobody at Astor Park Prep had ever been busted for something before. The thing is, Hartley didn’t deserve to get busted—she didn’t do a damn thing wrong, and the person who did is strolling down the hall like she’s the queen of Astor.

  I catch Felicity before first period. She’s at her locker with her girl crew. Luckily, Claire’s nowhere to be seen. Good. I hate the idea of my ex getting all chummy with Felicity. Who knows what Claire has on me. I was drunk a lot when we went out.

  “Leave,” I bark at Felicity’s friends.

  My expression must tell them I mean business, because they scurry off like rats fleeing a sinking ship. Felicity remains, looking amused.

  “Well, aren’t you the tough guy, scaring away all the innocent girls,” she mocks.

  I scowl at her. “There’s nothing innocent about any of you.”

  Rolling her eyes, she slams her locker door. I grab her forearm before she can march away.

  “Did you get the flowers?” I grumble. I’d swung by her house on my way home from Hartley’s, but nobody answered the door, so I left the flowers on the porch.

  “Yes. I did.”

  “And the note?” I left that, too. A note with three simple words: I’m sorry – Easton. “Did you read it?”

  “Yes.”

  “And? Are we cool now?”

  She starts laughing. “Wait. You thought that sad excuse for an apology would make us cool? Oh, Easton.”

  Frustration jams in my throat. “For fuck’s sake, Felicity. What you did to Hartley was not right.”

  “Are you seriously going to lecture me about right and wrong? You, Easton Royal?”

  “Yeah, I’m a total shit,” I readily agree. “I’m a bad, selfish person. I drink and I fight and I screw girls I shouldn’t screw. I’ll own that. But Hartley didn’t do anything to you. So, please, just tell Beringer that the cheating thing was a total misunderstanding and—” I halt, because I realize I’m wasting my breath.

  Felicity will never confess to planting those notes in Hartley’s locker. That would mean admitting she set up a fellow classmate, and risking punishment herself. So as much as I don’t want to, I have to let this go. Hartley got a three-day suspension. That sucks, but she’ll survive and she’ll be back at school on Monday. The “exonerate Hartley” ship has sailed. All I can do now is wave a white flag at Felicity before she does any more damage.

  “How can I make this right with you?” I ask through clenched teeth.

  Her blue eyes take on a disbelieving glint. “You can’t.”

  “Come on,” I plead. “There’s got to be something I can do.” She directs a pointed glare at my bracelet. I fight the urge to cover it. “Something I can buy you,” I clarify.

  “Like a Candy Machine necklace?”

  “Done.”

  “How about the limited edition Dior bag?”

  “I have no fucking clue what that is, but it’s yours.”

  “It’s thirty-five thousand.” Somehow she manages to look down her nose at me.

  I don’t know how I’m going to explain this to the family accountants, but okay. “Great. Every girl needs a limited edition purse.” I stick out my hand. “It’s a deal. When Hartley comes back, she’s off limits.”

  “No.”

  “What?”

  “There is no deal. This is payback, and I’m not done yet.”

  Her icy stare, combined with the tiniest of smirks on her lips, makes me want to slam my fist into a locker. I can’t believe she stood there negotiating about jewelry and purses just to shoot me down. Is it only Astor girls who carry out vendettas, or are all chicks this bloodthirsty?

  “If you want me to beg, I’ll beg. On my knees.”

  Felicity’s smile widens. “That’d be nice to see. But…no, thank you. I have even nicer things planned.”

  With that, she shoves my hand off her arm and flounces off.

  I swallow a groan as I watch her go. What the hell is wrong with that girl? I get that I embarrassed her, but get over it already. Grow the hell up.

  The irony of me ordering someone else to grow up doesn’t escape me.

  With a tired breath, I pull out my phone and shoot a text to Hartley.

  U ok this morning?

  She responds right away.

  No.

  Guilt pricks at me. I lean against Felicity’s locker and type out another message.

  I’m sorry, H. All my fault

  This time there’s a long delay. I stare at the screen and will her to answer.

  “East,” someone says.

  I glance up to see Sawyer and Lauren drawing near. Seb’s not with them. “Hey,” I say absently. I look down at my phone. Still nothing. “I’m good. You?”

  My little brother snickers. “Didn’t ask how you were, but I’m glad you’re good.”

  “You’re going to be late for class,” Lauren says unhelpfully. “The first bell already rang.”

  Screw the bell and screw class. Hartley still hasn’t answered my text. Why hasn’t she answered?

  Is it because she agrees that the suspension is my fault?

  It is, a little voice says.

  Fuck, I know it is. That’s why I apologized to her. But…I kind of expected her to wave it off. To say, I don’t blame you, Easton. Felicity is the one who blah blah blah.

  Instead, I’m getting radio silence.

  “Sure, we’ll talk later,” I mutter to my brother. “See you at home.”

  As I race off, I hear their bewildered voices behind me.

  “Is he drunk?”

  “I don’t think so?”

  I leave the building through the side doors and sprint to the parking lot. I need to see Hartley and apologize in person. I need her to forgive me for dragging her into this Felicity mess. It’s not like I did it on purpose. She has to know that.

  The drive to her neck of the woods is quick. But, just like yesterday, someone’s already beaten me there.

  From the bottom of the stairs, I can see a man’s back clad in an expensive gray suit jacket. A head of salt-and-pepper hair.

  “…kicked out of the number one prep school in the country. You’re a disgrace to the Wright name,” the man is saying, his words laden with disgust.

  Hartley’s father.

  Crap.

  I edge toward the side of the staircase and hopefully out of view.

  “I didn’t get kicked out,” is the surly reply. “It was a suspension.”

  “For cheating!” he barks. “Cheating, Hartley. What in the hell is wrong with you? What kind of child did I raise?”

  “I wasn’t cheating, Dad. A girl who hates me planted the test answers in my locker. I’m not a cheater.”

  “Your headmaster is a member down at the club, did you know that? All my peers and colleagues know about your little scandal. That’s all I was asked about over breakfast this morning.”

  “Who cares what a bunch of old men at the country club think?” Hartley sounds frustrated. “All that matters is the truth.”

  “For the love of God! You and that goddamn word! Truth. Enough, Hartley!”

  His sharp tone makes me flinch.

  “Enough,” Mr. Wright repeats. “You’re going back to New York. Today. Do you understand me?”

  “No!” she protests.

  “Yes.” There’s a rustling sound, as if he’s reaching for something. “Here’s your ticket. Your flight leaves tonight at eleven.”

  “No,” she says, but it’s with uncertainty this time.

  “All right.” He pauses. “If you don’t leave, I’m pulling Dylan out of school and sending her in your place.”

  “Why! Why do you always have to threaten her? She�
��s a baby, Dad.”

  “No, she’s thirteen and she’s already being influenced by you.”

  “She’s been on medication since she was eight. She’s fragile, and you know it. You can’t take her away from her family.”

  He ignores that. “If you don’t leave Bayview, then we’ll protect Dylan by sending her out of state. It’s your choice.”

  My hands fist by my sides.

  “If I go…will you let her see me?” Hartley speaks so quietly, it’s hard for me to hear.

  “If you get on the plane, you can spend time with her from here to the airport.”

  What a shithead. The airport’s thirty minutes away.

  “I…I’ll think about it.”

  No, I want to yell. Don’t think about it. Fight him.

  “I’ll pick you up at ten. Dylan and I will accompany you to the airport, where we will smile and wave while you go through security.”

  “What if I don’t come with you?”

  “I’ll be driving to the airport regardless,” Mr. Wright says in a clipped tone. “Someone will be getting on a plane tonight. It will either be you or your sister.” He pauses. “I trust you’ll make the right decision.”

  Chapter 28

  My plan is to wait ten minutes before knocking on Hartley’s door. I want to give her time to recover from her father’s visit and his brutal ultimatum. But only two minutes pass before her door swings open and Hartley stumbles outside.

  If I wasn’t parked in front of the two-story house, Hartley might’ve walked into the middle of the street. Instead, she nearly bangs her nose against the side of my pickup.

  “You look like you either drank too much or just got run over by a truck.” I reach out a steadying hand.

  Surprisingly, she takes it. “Truck. Definitely run over by a truck.”

  “Let’s go for a ride.” I don’t give her time to answer. In a few moves, I have her inside the cab and buckled up.

  “Any special requests?” I ask once I’m in the driver’s seat.

  “I don’t care. Just away from here.” Looking defeated, she rests her head against the window and closes her eyes.

  “No problem.” I play it easy. Like my own insides aren’t tied up in knots. I hate this. I hate feeling like this. I hate seeing her like this.