“I –”
“Girls!” the teacher snaps. “Save the gossip for outside of my classroom or I’ll have no choice but to split you up.”
“Sorry,” we mumble together, eyeing each other with a smirk when she looks away again.
I wasn’t sure how I felt about Penelope when we first met, but the more I spend time with her, the more I wish I had it in me to trust enough to let her close enough to be a real friend.
Maybe there’s a little hope after all.
My phone vibrates.
Grayson – Gossiping about me?
I smile to myself. Me – Sorry to inform you, the world doesn’t actually revolve around the almighty Grayson. So no, we weren’t.
Grayson – And here I was fantasizing about a twosome ;)
I hide my spluttered laugh behind a cough, covering my mouth.
Me – Pig!
Grayson – It’s why you love me xo
“Who are you talking too?” Penelope hisses.
“No one.” I hide my phone, dropping it into the Prada bag at my feet.
“Liar. A smile like that isn’t caused by no one.”
Damn. I’d never even realized I was smiling. Playing games with Grayson is dangerously fun.
“Tell you about it later,” I whisper to shut her up. I have no intention of discussing Grayson with her and honestly, there’s nothing to discuss. So what if I quite enjoy his company and have seen a side of him others haven’t? It doesn’t mean anything, and even if it did, I’m in no shape to be starting another relationship.
My last wouldn’t even be classed as a relationship, and it ended in disaster. I’ve given up hope of my heart ever being whole again. I’ll be happy to settle with it being patched back together or at least not an open wound.
The rest of math passes by in a boring blur, and soon enough, I’m moving on to my next class for what I’m sure will be an equally boring session, but I make the most of tedious classes because sooner rather than later, I’m sure there’ll be another battle to fight or a skank to clear off.
Chapter 13
Ashton
I sided with Rose out of instinct. The part of me that belongs only to her coming to the forefront of my mind and taking over my body. In a way, I was pleased she stuck up for herself—heaven knows Sophia deserved the bottle of water thrown over her—but it also didn’t quite sit right with me.
I am no saint. I have no right to judge Rose, but I do anyway. I can’t bear the idea of her ever being as cruel and twisted as Sophia. And if I don’t look too hard, if I pretend Rose isn’t covering her pain with viciousness and spite, I can almost pretend I didn’t do this to her. That my selfish actions and spinelessness didn’t drive her to a state of no return.
My phone pings in my pocket, earning me a scowl from the teacher seated at his desk. And then almost at the same time, Grayson whispers my name seated two rows behind me.
Ignoring him, I pull out my phone to find a message from my mom.
Mom – Josh has been fighting. His school called and wants me to come pick him up, but I can’t bring myself to leave the house, Ash.
More like bed. Damn it, Mom!
“Ashton,” Grayson hisses, louder than before.
“Is there a problem?” Mr. Henson pipes up, the grit to his tone telling me he’s not impressed.
Getting to my feet, I reply, “Actually, I need to go. A family matter needs sorting out.”
“Sit down, Mr. Cole,” Henson snaps. “Parents are normally the ones who deal with family matters.”
I ignore him and step from behind my desk, shouldering my bag. “Parent. And she is busy at the moment and my brother needs collecting from school.”
Mr. Henson’s face grows red as he flusters with his words, but whatever he says I don’t pay attention, and in the next breath, I’ve exited the room. The door opens seconds after me, but I don’t look back—I’m prepared to run if I have to—but it isn’t Mr. Henson opening the door, but Grayson.
“Piss off, Gray,” I snarl.
“Jeez, man. When are you going to drop this beef you have with me?”
“What do you want?” I sigh.
“Josh was texting me in class, that’s why I was trying to get your attention,” he explains.
“What the fuck is he texting you for?”
“Coz I’m the cooler brother of course.” He smirks.
“You’re not his brother,” I growl. Every time I look at Grayson’s face, I see his smarmy father and my fist thirsts for violence.
“That was cruel, Ashton. I’ve treated Josh as my brother from day one, and I don’t plan on changing that just because my father’s a bastard.”
Coming to a stop, I glance at Grayson, surprised to find hurt in his eyes. “What did Josh say?” I ask, letting go of my rage.
“Some kids got wind of what happened, said your mom was that shit in the sack, my father had to turn to younger blood.”
“Fuck’s sake. This shit was not supposed to affect him.”
“I’ll take care of it,” Grayson promises.
“I’m not sure we need your type of taking care of things, Gray.”
He rolls his eyes. “And what exactly do you plan to do about it?”
“Tell him to keep his fists to himself and ignore it until it blows over.” Grayson laughs and I don’t blame him; my advice sounds as useless as I feel. “Where are you going?” I ask, jogging after him as he starts walking at a quicker pace.
“Car’s out front. We’re picking up Josh, aren’t we?”
I grind my teeth, irritated. When is Grayson going to get the message? Our parents are getting a divorce; he’s no longer in my family.
“No. I’m getting, Josh. You can stay in school.”
“I’ve already called Taylor now; plus I told Josh I was on my way.”
“I can get a cab, and he’ll survive. My mom messaged me, not you.”
We argue back and forth all the way out of the building and onto the sidewalk to find the car he’s called already idling at the curb.
“Be stupid to call a cab now.” Grayson shrugs.
I throw my hands in the air. “Ugh! Fine, but you’ll be waiting in the car while I go into the school.”
“Yes, Dad.” Grayson chuckles, sliding into the car and instructing Taylor to go to Josh’s school.
And though I know Grayson only meant his comment as a joke, I can’t help but feel like it’s somewhat true. My mother has checked out, and I’m the only one left who Josh has to be responsible and make sure he doesn’t do stupid shit like fight over gossip… even if I’d have thrown a punch in the same position. Yet Josh messaged Grayson because he’s the less responsible one. He’s the brother who would give him a high five and promise retribution to those who were stupid enough to say such things, and while Grayson learned his skills from his arrogant asshole of a father, I hate to admit those skills are probably just what Josh needs at this moment.
This is Manhattan; the place thrives on gossip and scandal. Sometimes I long for Brooklyn. Sometimes I just want to pack our bags and move us back. But life is never that simple and I can’t imagine Josh and my mom wanting the same thing. Josh likes his life here and my mom… well, Brooklyn has too many painful memories hiding around every corner.
Chapter 14
Grayson
“You can go home now… wherever that is,” Ashton mutters. “Oh, and thanks for the help.”
Rolling my eyes at his half-assed thank you, I ignore his suggestion and carry on into the penthouse. My penthouse. “This is my home, but I’m staying two floors down.”
“Wait.” He halts, eyeing me harshly. “Your father’s in this building?” he continues through gritted teeth.
I’m not a fan of my father these days either, but the hatred Ashton has toward him is borderline troublesome. “No. I said I’m staying two floors down. No idea where my father is.”
He frowns, seeming to deflate a bit. “So, you aren’t living with him?”
&
nbsp; “No.”
Josh grumbles behind Ashton, and my gaze flickers to my younger brother. I don’t care what Ashton says, Josh is mine too. I claimed him when he moved in and I’m not giving him back. I love the kid. Doesn’t matter if we don’t share the same blood.
I smirk as Josh clearly calls Ashton names under his breath.
“Don’t encourage him, Gray,” Ashton spits. “I’m going to go deal with him. You stay there until I come back.”
I watch as Ashton drags his brother up to his room. My “dad” comment earlier had been a joke, but if Ashton doesn’t let up, that’s all Josh is going to see when he looks at his older brother. Then he’ll rebel. If you ask me, Josh deserves a medal. He got the prick right in the nose and made it bleed good. Of course, I’ll be doing more than making his nose bleed for what he said about Summer. I already have my guy digging into his parents to find dirt and he will. He always does. If you know where and how to push, something always surfaces, eventually, and then his parents will be doing everything in their power to make sure their son doesn’t open his mouth again. Because unlike Ashton, I lost my morals a long time ago.
Once Ashton and Josh are out of sight, I wander further into the apartment and head for the kitchen, but when I open the fridge, it’s bare. Come to think of it, the place isn’t looking as tidy as it used to either and normally by now, Mary would have come over to say hello.
Guess I’ll be tracking my father down after all.
Glass shatters from deeper into the home, and I turn toward the sound and pad over on quiet feet to find Summer on her hands and knees, a bottle of vodka smashed around her, the smear of blood marring the white tiled floor.
“Summer!” I gasp, running over and bending to her level.
She doesn’t seem to register my presence, instead frantically picks up shards of glass from the floor, making the blood situation worse.
“Summer, stop,” I say, grasping her wrists gently.
The moment I touch her, she freezes, her face slowly lifting to meet mine. What I see hurts me more that my father’s cruelty ever has.
What has my father done to you?
Summer had always had a joy to her, despite it being obvious a part of her mourned her dead husband. She was soft and warm and always greeted me with a smile, which made me feel wanted, even though I wasn’t her real son, and now all I see is emptiness. My father has used her up and spat her out.
“Grayson?” she whispers, as if confused.
“Yeah, it’s me,” I answer softly.
A tear leaks from the corner of her eye. “You haven’t left me?”
My brow creases in confusion. “Of course not. Come on, let’s get you up.” Standing, I guide her up with me. “Careful of the glass.”
“I thought you’d left,” she says, voice tight.
I wait until she’s clear of the glass before answering. “Summer, Ashton told me to leave, so I’ve been staying in the hotel waiting for him to cool off.”
The fog in her gaze clears for a moment, anger taking its place. “He shouldn’t have done that. This is your home, Grayson.”
I shrug. “It doesn’t matter.” I kinda understand why he doesn’t want to see me; I wouldn’t if Arthur Bishop was my father either.
“Yes, it does, Gray. You’re welcome here. I want you here.”
A flash of warmth runs through me. “You do?”
“Of course, I do, Grayson. Whatever your father has done, it doesn’t affect how I see you.”
It’s stupid how much her words mean to me. She’s not my mother, but she’s the closest I’ve had to one in a very long time. I’m so used to everyone seeing me as the younger version of my father, I sometimes forget I’m really nothing like him. As much as I like to play devil’s advocate, I don’t always agree with my father’s choices.
“Thanks, Summer.” I smile. “Come on, lets clean you up.”
Panic fills her gaze. “Is Ash here?”
“Yeah.” I frown. “We brought Josh home. He’s upstairs with him.”
“Please,” she begs, pulling from my hold. “I need to clean up the mess before Ashton sees.”
It hits me all at once. “Summer,” I start carefully. “Were you planning on having a drink or the bottle?” I knew Summer had a problem before she married my father, but I don’t think it really sunk in until this point just how much Ashton is having to deal with. There’s no wonder he’s wearing a “dad” hat; he hasn’t much choice.
My question has Summer in a flood of tears as she begs me not to tell Ashton, but this isn’t a secret I plan on keeping. I care about Summer and if I’m going to be able to help her, I need her son on my side.
“You’re hurt,” I say firmly. “First let’s fix that.”
Dragging in a breath, she sniffs loudly, wiping her face before nodding.
Thankfully the cut isn’t very deep, and after a quick rinse under water and a spray of antiseptic, I have a Band-Aid over the wound and Summer in bed before Ashton returns.
“Please don’t tell Ash,” Summer whispers as I pull the duvet up over her body. “I’ve let him down again.”
Smiling sadly, I meet her big sorrowful eyes and wish I could do what she wants. “You need help, Summer. I can’t keep this from him.”
Nodding, her face falls as she accepts her fate.
“You’ve been through a lot,” I remind her.
“So has he,” she replies. “And I’m too weak to help him.”
Taking her hand, I squeeze. “You’re not weak, Summer. You’re honest and kind and real, and the world my father brought you into doesn’t like those qualities.”
Reaching up, she touches my face. “You’ll stay, won’t you? Move back in?”
I nod. “I think Ashton could do with the help.”
“You’re a good boy, Gray.”
Smiling, I wrap a little of my charm around myself in an attempt to find an even footing. I’m not like Ashton; I’ve never had anyone but myself to look out for. It can be lonely at times, but right this second, I can see how much easier it is. The pressure, the worry… these are all new emotions too me.
When it’s just me, there’s no one to disappoint.
“You’re the only one who ever thinks so.” Standing, I let my mask fall fully into place. “Get some rest, Summer. I’ve got it from here.”
Ashton turns up when I’m halfway through cleaning up the smashed bottle of vodka. There’s an instant when our eyes meet that I think Ashton wants to blame me—after all, I am a heavy drinker—but then his gaze looks past me to his mother’s bedroom only a few feet away, and all the color drains from his face.
“I’ve got it from here, Gray,” he rasps, bending to collect the few leftover shards. “You can go.”
“You need help, Ashton,” I answer as I place the last of the broken bottle into a box and begin to soak up the vodka with paper towels.
“Not from you I don’t,” he growls.
Placing the paper towels into the box with a huff, I straighten to my full height as Ashton does the same. He’s coiled too tight, ready to snap any second, and with a quick glance toward his mother’s bedroom, I nod for us to move into the living area.
Once we’re far enough away, I turn to Ashton and smile. “Go on then. Hit me.”
He leans back slightly, frowning. “What?”
The smile on my face morphs into a smirk, my eyes darkening in a way I know he’ll find hard to resist. “I said, hit me. I’ll give you one free pass. That’s it.”
Shaking his head, he laughs. “You’re an idiot. I’m not hitting you.”
“Are you sure? Because you kinda look like you want too. Been looking that way for a while actually, and to be honest, I think it will help you to remove that stick from your ass.”
It’s not that I really want to be punched in the face, but I’ve no idea how to get through to Ashton. He’s wired, being crushed under the pressure, and apart from a good drinking session and maybe a couple of ladies, I’ve no other ide
a how to help him. The man needs to let loose.
“I’m not falling for it, Gray,” he says. But his rigid stance and balled fists tell another story.
Here goes nothing. I brace for the pain. “I fucked Rose Saturday night.”
“You did what?” he roars.
Shit! That did the trick.
He gets three blows in before I even have chance to defend myself, and as I punch back, catching him in the gut and then the face, I begin to think my last words were probably not my wisest. Ashton is like the hulk on steroids, laying into me with yell after yell, his rage a storm rushing out of him in with devastating effects.
We tumble to the floor and I wrestle my way on top of him in to get in a few hits before he throws me off and our roles are reversed. We scuffle, rolling around, hitting furniture, hitting each other—two crazed idiots consumed with too much testosterone and stupidity.
“Stop it!” Josh hollers. “Fucking quit it!”
I pause at Josh’s yell, but Ashton doesn’t seem to hear him. Jumping to my feet the second I get chance, I leap back as Ashton follows suit, prowling toward me.
“All right, Ash, you’ve had your fun. Now we stop,” I murmur, stepping back as he descends.
“You touched my girl,” he spits. “You’re as bad as your fucking father.”
Fuck it, why did I mention Rose?
“Now, hang on a minute, Ashton. She isn’t your girl.” I dodge his fist, deflect his second. “You’ve made that pretty clear. It’s why she was in my arms crying in the first place.”
“So, you thought you’d take advantage of her?” he seethes, vibrating with anger.
“I like Rose, Ashton. I’d not do that.”
“Bullshit.” He swings, catches me in the eye. I’m going to be black-and-blue in the morning. “You’ve never given a shit about anyone but yourself.”
Josh leaps between us. Ashton’s younger brother splays his arms wide. “You’re going to wake Mom up, you stupid idiot,” he spits.
Ashton pauses, heaving in full breaths as his hands slowly relax.
“I care about Summer,” I gasp, dragging in lungsful of oxygen myself. “And I care about this family.”
The Resurrection of Us: A High School Bully Romance (Albany Nightingale Duet Book 2) Page 6