SAVAGE: Rosewood High #3

by Lorraine, Tracy

  “It’s important to him to help.”

  “I’m assuming his wife’s moved out?”

  “Raelynn,” she snaps, her eyes finding mine for the first time.

  “What?” It’s no secret that Mom and Eric’s relationship started while he was still married. The whole thing just sounds a little too cliché for my liking. He was unhappy in his marriage, got friendly with his assistant, and the next thing we all know, he’s taking her out to dinners to thank her for her dedication to the firm and I come home from school early to find them on the bed I’m forced to share with Mom in our tiny one-bed apartment. But it’s all okay, because said wife found out and left, and now we get to move into his castle that overlooks the sea. I just about manage to stop my eyes rolling thinking about it.

  “This is the last time, I promise.”

  “Sounds great, Mom.” They’re not the words I want to say. I want to demand to know how she can sit there and say that after all her past ruined promises that we’d settle down. I want to scream about how I’m once again uprooted from a school I’ve barely had time to get used to.

  Silence descends around us. We don’t even have a TV to break the tension.

  After finishing my sesame chicken, which I struggled to force down after having my assumptions confirmed, I place the box back on the coffee table. “I have a test in the morning I need to study for. Not that it’ll make any difference if I pass or not.”

  I’m almost in the bedroom when she calls for me.

  “Rae?”

  I pause, but I don’t turn around or even speak.

  “This is going to be the last one, I really feel it this time.”

  “I hope so, Mom. I really do.”

  I ignore the textbook sitting on the dresser as I walk into the room. I couldn’t give a fuck about the test; I just needed a little space, not that I get much of that in this barely five-hundred square foot apartment. I might not be all that excited about packing up the few possessions we have once again, but the idea of living somewhere a little bigger is definitely appealing.

  Exactly as promised, when I get home from school on Wednesday afternoon, our apartment is missing its possessions—not that there’s a lot of them—and Mom and Eric are waiting for me with a couple of suitcases next to the couch.

  “Did you have a good day?”

  “Fine,” I mumble. I spent all day wondering where the hell she was dragging me to this time. Eric does appear to be truthful, but really, until I see the evidence of this house overlooking the sea, I’m going to be skeptical. Mom’s fallen for some very convincing liars in the past, so just because he wears a fancy suit and flashes his black Amex about whenever he buys anything, it doesn’t really mean all that much to me.

  “Did you say goodbye to your friends?”

  My mom’s not stupid—she’s actually a very intelligent lady, despite her obvious flaws—so how has she not realized that we move so often that not only is it impossible for me to make any friends but I’m at the point where I’ve actually given up trying? What’s the point when in two, five, eight months I’m going to be dragged somewhere else in the country?

  “Yeah,” I lie. “They promised to stay in touch.” I somehow manage to keep the bitter tone out of my voice. Getting into a fight with her now is only going to result in a tense journey to wherever it is we’re going.

  “Fantastic. Well, our flight leaves in two hours. Shall we go and get some food first? I’ll have a driver waiting outside.”

  “Sounds perfect,” Mom practically squeals in excitement.

  “Do you want to change first?” Eric asks, running his eyes over my outfit.

  “No, I’m good.” I glance down at my ripped, paint-covered jeans and my slashed-across-the-midriff tee. I don’t really give a shit if I don’t fit into his fancy world. Mom’s the one he wants, not me. He’s only got to put up with me for a few months before I finally decide where I want to go to college and actually spend three whole years in the same place. I’m not one hundred percent on where I want to go, although I have a few definite no’s after the places Mom’s dragged me to.

  “Okay then.” He doesn’t look happy about it ,but as I stand with my arms folded over my chest and my chin jutted out, he wisely shuts his mouth, clearly agreeing with me that an argument before boarding a plane is a bad idea.

  With our suitcases and belongings in the back of his driver’s car, we head toward the airport, stopping at a diner on the way. It’s not the kind of place I expect Eric to choose, but he can hardly take us to a fancy restaurant with me dressed as I am. The thought fills me with joy. I might not get a say in where we live, but I do have control over some things.

  “What did Ethan say about our arrival?” Mom asks, reminding me that it’s not only Eric we’re about to move in with.

  “He can’t wait to meet you.”

  The thing about having a million—or so it seems—men come in and out of your life is that you get really good at reading them. Mom’s addiction to assholes has really helped me identify the bad ones way before she does, and right now, Eric is lying through his teeth.

  “Really?”

  “Of course. I’ve told him all about both of you.”

  I can’t help rolling my eyes. He might know plenty about my mom—they’ve been seeing each other long enough to know the basics—but I would put money on him not having a fucking clue about the darker parts of our past that make us the way we are. Mom might be quick to fall in love and trust, despite having her heart shattered more times than I care to count. I, on the other hand, do not trust anyone, even my own mother to a point, with her terrible judgment. I will ensure no one knows enough about me to use it against me. I learned the hard way years ago that allowing someone in and trusting them only leads to pain, and it’s not a lesson I’d like to repeat.

  “I’ve enrolled you at Rosewood High. Ethan can show you around on Monday and help get you settled.”

  “Brilliant.” I smile at him and he returns it, assuming mine’s genuine. It’s not. I’ve started over at schools so many times now that finding my feet is almost part of the fun. Plus, getting lost is always a good excuse for being late.

  The rest of the journey is just about tolerable. We fly first class, obviously, and while Mom and Eric are otherwise engaged, I manage to snag myself a bottle of champagne. It’s fancy as fuck—Christ knows how much it must cost him—but I don’t care. I tip it back like it’s sparkling water in the hope it helps me forget what’s happening right now.

  * * *

  The second we’re out of the airport, I know that Eric’s words about where he lives and the money he has are true. There’s a fucking limo waiting for us.

  Mom squeals in excitement as he pulls her into his arms and kisses her sweetly. The champagne filling my belly threatens to make a reappearance at the sight.

  It’s so over the top and pretentious.

  “I wanted you to arrive in style, sweetheart.”

  Jesus, I’m really going to hate this place.

  Some poor member of the airport staff wheels out our cases on a trolley and proceeds to place them in the trunk. I follow his lead and grab the handle of the passenger door of the ridiculous car, much to the driver’s horror. He’s waiting patiently to greet his guests.

  “What?” I bark. “Do you want to sit in the back with those two pawing each other?”

  “Point taken, Miss. You are very welcome to join me.”

  “Thank you.” I grace him with the first genuine smile I’ve given out all day and climb in.

  I make quick work of changing his radio station to something a little more current and sit back and wait.

  We’ve made it this far. All that’s left is to see this house he’s promised us.

  The drive is longer than I was hoping for, and I find myself dropping off to the sound of the driver singing along with my music. If I cared, I’d ask how he knows the words when most of his passengers probably request classical or some other shit, but I don�
��t.

  I don’t open my eyes until the ground under the tires starts to crunch. My chin drops as I stare at the house we’re driving toward. It’s fucking massive.

  “Impressive, right?” the driver says, and I realize that I’ve moved forward in my seat to get a better look. The place is bigger than some of the apartment buildings we’ve lived in.

  “It sure is something.”

  “I hope you’re happy here, Miss. Rosewood is a great place to live.”

  Only time will tell. I don’t respond with my reservations, instead I just smile and climb out of the car when he pulls it to a stop.

  “It doesn’t look like Ethan’s here. I told him what time we were arriving,” Eric grumbles. “Come on, I can’t wait to show you around.”

  “Just point me in the direction of my room.” I have no interest in a guided tour of his fucking mansion. If I have to live here, then I’m sure I’ll figure out which room is which soon enough. Not that anyone could possibly need all these fucking rooms.

  He pushes the doors open and a huge staircase is revealed. It’s like those you see on wedding photos where the brides gracefully glide down toward her prince. The thought has the champagne sloshing around once again.

  “Take the stairs, turn left. Your room is the last one on the right. It’s got an incredible view and a balcony. You’ll love it. I had Rachel make it all up for you, but if you need anything, please just ask.”

  I want to ask who the hell Rachel is, but assuming she’s the maid or some shit, I just nod and follow his directions up the insane staircase.

  3

  Ethan

  “You know I love you, man, but are you planning on going home sometime tonight?” Mason says with a laugh. I turned up here under the guise of catching him up on the school gossip, seeing as he’s been off since his accident last weekend.

  “Dad’s back,” I say, hoping it’ll be enough to stop him giving me grief for not wanting to go home. In truth, it barely scratches the surface of my reasons for not wanting to be there. No sooner had we got home after our father/son bonding day of horrors, he packed a bag and took off for Washington, promising to be back with my new ready-made family tonight. I’m even less willing to meet them right now than I was when he told me they were coming.

  Anger burns within me that Mom’s perfume has barely faded from the house yet he’s totally fine with moving in his mistress and her daughter. Asshole.

  “Trust me when I tell you that letting all this fester inside isn’t the best course of action. I know you’re angry. I’m angry for you. But you need to talk to him. Get everything out in the open.”

  I mutter some kind of response before standing from the chair I’d taken over in Camila’s room a few hours ago when I made myself at home here.

  “We’re here if you need anything,” she says softly from her spot tucked into Mason’s side. It’s a harsh reminder that I’m now the gooseberry in our group. I used to live for times partying with my boys, but they spend almost all their time with their girls now. And where does that leave me? Apparently at home with a replacement mother and a child to babysit.

  I leave them to it, sadness and anxiety only growing stronger the farther I get away from them. My fingers curl around the steering wheel of my car with an unforgiving grip as I head toward home. Dad told me what time their flight got in—it was almost like he was expecting me to host a fucking welcome party. I shake my head. He’s fucking delusional.

  The lights are on when I pull up in the driveway and my stomach drops. This is really happening.

  I sit out in my car with the engine off for longer than I’d planned. Dad and his new woman are in the kitchen, sitting at the table and enjoying a late dinner together. I watch as he reaches out and touches her arm, laughs at her jokes and smiles at her in a way I remember all too well.

  Hatred that I’ve never experienced before begins to swell inside me until it’s like an ugly monster wanting to escape. My hands tremble, my heart pounds, and my stomach turns over at the thought of having to go in there and accept them. It’s not going to happen. It’s never going to happen.

  She and her daughter have ruined my family and my life, and I have every intention of ensuring they’re aware that their presence isn’t welcome.

  After sucking in a few more ragged breaths, I push the car door open and make my way toward the house. The anger that’s burning inside me fuels my movements until I’m opening the front door and marching inside the only home I’ve ever known that now feels like a stranger’s.

  Dad and his woman’s laughter sound out from the kitchen. He’ll expect me to come and introduce myself, so that’s exactly what I do.

  “Ethan, where have you been? I thought I told you what time we were arriving so you could be here.”

  I stare at him. The happiness on his face does nothing for my fury.

  “I had better things to do,” I spit, moving toward the cabinet that holds his precious scotch. The room is in silence as I pull the door open and grab a bottle from the back. One of his favorites.

  Twisting the top, the sound of the thin metal breaking is almost deafening before I tip the neck to my lips and swallow down a generous mouthful.

  Glancing at him over the end of the bottle, his eyes narrow in anger. I shake my head. What was he expecting? For me to welcome this woman into my life with open arms. She’s the reason my mother has run back to her childhood home without so much as a glance backward in my direction. There’s no way in hell he can really expect me to be okay with this.

  His jaw twitches as he grinds his teeth before finally opening his mouth again. “Ethan, I’d like you to meet Ashlynn. Ash, this is my son, Ethan.”

  Her eyes sparkle with delight, and I about manage to keep the scotch I’d just swallowed in my stomach.

  “It’s so nice to meet you at last. I’ve heard so much about you.”

  I wince. She could have the softest voice in the world and it would still be like nails on a chalkboard for me.

  “I can’t say the same.” With the bottle in my hands, I storm from the kitchen with Dad’s frustrated words sounding out behind me. I don’t register any of them as my feet pound up the stairs.

  I bolt straight to my bedroom. My fingers just grip my doorknob when a noise from behind me makes me still.

  I think it’s time to introduce myself to my new ‘sister.’ I roll my eyes at myself. I intend on getting rid of these two before anything crazy like that happens.

  Turning on my heels, I push open her bedroom door instead of my own. I don’t bother knocking. I have no intention of being polite or considerate.

  My brows pull together when I realize the room is empty, but that’s only for a moment because the second water stops running I understand where she’s hiding.

  Dad told me that she was enrolling at Rosewood, but also that she’s a lovely girl, so I’m expecting her to be a freshman, maybe a sophomore, if I’m lucky. Stalking farther into the room, I find a small suitcase sitting on the end of the bed.

  Placing the bottle of scotch on the nightstand, I walk over, glancing at the contents. Some black lace catches my eye, and I hook my finger under it and pull. I reveal a tiny black thong and hold it up in front of me. Okay, so maybe not a freshman then. Not content on just invading her privacy a little, I dive back into the case and discover a matching bra. While the thong had hardly any fabric to it, the bra is the opposite, making me really hope she’s not a freshman. Finding the label, I flip it over. 32D. Now that’s something I can definitely get on board with.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” The atmosphere in the room becomes heavy as I’m caught red-handed with her lingerie hanging from my fingers.

  A smirk curls at the corner of my lips, knowing that when I turn around, I’m going to discover who exactly is occupying this room and just how much fun I can really have with her.

  With her underwear still laced through my fingers, I spin on the balls of my feet.

  My s
mile widens at what I find.

  She’s covered only in a white towel that’s wrapped around her body, and her dark hair is hanging in rat tails around her shoulders and sticking to her face. Her skin is still covered in water, but what really captures my attention is her eyes. They’re dark, almost black, and they’re staring pure hate into me.

  The feeling is very much mutual, sweet cheeks.

  There’s no way this girl’s an innocent freshman, and I don’t just mean that because of what I know she’s rocking under the towel she pulls tighter around her. There’s a depth to her that only comes with age and experience.

  Her eyes narrow as our contact holds, something crackling between us.

  “Have you about finished snooping through my stuff?”

  “I just wanted to know more about my new neighbor.”

  “Nothing to know. Now get the hell out.”

  “This is my house.” I take a step toward her, but she doesn’t move. Brave girl.

  “Actually, I’m pretty sure it’s your father’s house.”

  “That’s where you’re mistaken. I’m very much in charge of what happens under this roof.” I close some more of the distance between us, and I don’t miss the hitch in her breathing.

  She rolls her eyes and something explodes within me at her defiance. I step closer and right into her personal space. My blood races through my ears, the anger and hate mixing with her freshly showered scent and heading straight for my dick.

  Dropping my eyes from hers, I take in her full lips, her slender neck, and her heaving chest. Her minty breath hits my nose and I bite down on the inside of my cheeks in an attempt to restrain the devil inside.

  Unable to keep my hands away, I run one fingertip along the edge of the towel.

  “Do I need to show you just how true those words are? Do I need to prove that I am the one in charge here?” It would only take one small movement from me to make the towel drop to the ground, she knows it as well as I do, yet she still doesn’t cower down.