by Kat T. Masen
“Why am I here?” An evil laugh escapes his drunken lips. “Because I need to see for myself. You see, your perfect new boyfriend isn’t so perfect.”
“Wesley, it’s over. You’ve seen it now.”
“Oh…” he mouths, stumbling forward, “… I’ve seen it all right. I saw the way he fucked that tight little pussy of yours against the wall. You did that nice moan, the one when you’re just about to cum. I just wish I could have joined in, you know, double team you.”
I shake my head, shocked at his callous words. “You’re drunk.”
“Yeah.” He lowers his head with a smirk, his body inches away which only intensifies Logan’s growl behind me. “C’mon, Em, you want two cocks inside you? You’re a slut just like the rest of them.”
The rage consumes me, my arm ready to swing until Logan holds me back. I wriggle out of his grip.
Why the fuck is he just standing there doing nothing?
“Control your woman, Carrington. Or I’ll have to tell her how you tried to pay me to walk away.”
What did he just say?
There’s a high-pitched scream for help that sounds in the distance. I push Wesley aside and run toward the sound. A large group on the beach surrounds a body on the sand. I run through the grit with difficulty, my feet sinking in making my pace slow.
A man yells for someone to call 911.
The panic urges me to run faster until I’m amongst the crowd pushing everyone away. When it’s all clear, I see two bodies lying on the sand, unconscious—Tayla and another girl.
I fall to my knees and scream louder for help, placing my mouth on hers in a state of panic with no clue what I’m doing. I begin to sob, helpless as everyone else who watches on.
Logan and Wesley push everyone out of the way including me and begin resuscitating the both of them. In Wesley’s drunken state, he manages to revive the other girl until she’s coughs up water and opens her eyes, dazed and confused.
Beside her, Logan is on his knees, panicked. I pray through loud sobs for her to wake up, call her name and beg her to hang on. My legs begin to shake, desperate to give way, yet I somehow muster up the strength to remain alert because losing my sister is not an option.
And then, as if the Lord above listens to my loud prayers, her eyes spring open and her body jerks forward as she purges all the water from her lungs.
The crowd lets out a huge gasp of relief.
Logan falls back into a crumpled heap, tired and worn-out by his efforts to save her.
I should thank him for saving her.
But instead, I embrace my sister and ignore him beside me, wishing nothing had ever happened between us.
Chapter Twenty
“Tick. Tick. Boom.”
~ Logan Carrington
I fall to the ground, desperately trying to revive Tayla. My brain scrambles to remember CPR training clouding my fear of losing her because I’ve gone completely blank. One look at Wesley reviving the unknown girl jogs my memory. I open her airway and give her two rescue breaths, then compress her chest, ignoring the cries surrounding me.
Thirty fucking times.
Do this thirty fucking times.
Don’t panic.
The other girl gains consciousness, distracting me for a moment until my focus is back on Tayla. Her pale face and gray lips haunt me as I lay my own lips onto hers and give her another two rescue breaths. Warm air rushes against my lips, it’s a sign she’s breathing and within seconds, her eyes open wide with her body following in shock.
The relief washes over me.
Adrenalin running through me spiked by fear and the unknown. Emerson’s leaning over Tayla, murmuring through tears, making sure she acknowledges her and isn’t suffering from any permanent damage.
The paramedics arrive and check both girls over. Tayla explains that the other girl was mucking around in the water and underestimated the current. When the group saw her panicking, Tayla ran in to help her but got dragged into a rip. Thankfully, two guys were late-night surfing and heard the screams just in time.
The party has stopped and all eyes are fixated on where we stand. It angers me that many have their cells out, eagerly taking photos of what happened. Emerson doesn’t care, avoiding me and not saying a word despite Tayla thanking me over and over again before being carried to the ambulance.
At the hospital, Wesley and I wait outside the room sitting on the hard, plastic chairs. We keep our distance, not saying a word to each other. The doctors check Tayla as a precautionary measure and with that, one of us had to call Chris and Abbi to inform them of what’s happened.
Emerson’s still in a state of shock by her sister’s side, and still refusing to talk to Wesley or me. Even Wesley looks remorseful, standing up and pacing the corridor with bloodshot eyes, coming down from whatever substance he’s taken.
When Chris answers the phone, I tell him and Abbi that Tayla’s okay now, but of course, explain what happened. He asks a million questions in a state of panic, and most importantly why I’m in LA.
I promise him I will answer everything later, but for now, that I’ll make sure Tayla rests and gets better. It doesn’t ease his worries with both of them catching the next flight over to see their daughter.
The paparazzi caught wind of the situation, camped outside the hospital as security tried to restrain them. When it’s time to leave, Emerson’s bodyguard escorts her and Tayla through the underground entrance and into a black tinted SUV. Wesley decides to jump in with them, much to my annoyance, and I follow the car alone and still reeling from what’s happened.
Outside Emerson and Wesley’s apartment, the paparazzi are stationed with their cameras. When the cars pull up, the frenzy begins. The cameras are out snapping away, journalists running across the street knocking on the glass window of the car screaming out personal questions. I thought I could get away with driving behind them, but soon the attention diverts to my window.
“Is it true you and Emerson Chase are having an affair?”
“Will you leave the Royal Kings to move back to the States to be with her?”
“Is Emerson Chase pregnant with your baby, or is it Wesley Rich’s?”
The window is wound up, with my focus on the garage door opening. When both cars are parked, Jimmy yells at all of them to back the hell off as it’s private property. They reluctantly do so, retreating to their spots across the street and waiting for any activity which will give them the scoop they need.
I follow them upstairs and into the apartment, suddenly realizing how familiar this place feels. Then, I remember, watching all three seasons of the show they were often filmed in this apartment.
This is their home.
Everything looks exactly as it does on the screen, although slightly bigger.
It doesn’t feel right being here, it’s a wake-up call of the life Emerson lives without me. This is her world. A world built on lies, deceit, and fame.
Emerson disappears with Tayla to the bedroom, shutting the door behind them.
Wesley’s less accommodating, ignoring my presence and disappearing to another room.
Walking to the balcony, I open the door and step outside. The sun’s about to rise, and with the exhaustion hitting me fiercely, I sit on the wicker chair and close my eyes.
I’ve been to hell and back since Emerson left me at the restaurant.
No matter what I do or try, I can’t erase her from my thoughts.
***
I isolated myself from Ash, spending countless hours watching Emerson’s every move through various social media accounts. For days, I’d call her every thirty minutes, greeted with nothing but an empty line. The desperation consumed me to the point that I’d contacted Wesley and offered him cash in exchange for walking away. It was a massive risk sending a text message that could ruin my career but I no longer cared. I need her and that was that.
He agreed but on one condition. He’d go on his trip to Cabo and if he came back and Emerson still wanted out,
he’d accept the money and leave her alone. I agreed because I had no choice as I was clutching at straws and anxious to have her all to myself.
The jerk posting on Instagram had me reeling. I was fucking stupid and didn’t think straight. Scared she’d run back to him, my insecurity ate at me despite my phone ringing regularly with ex-lovers trying to hook up. It meant nothing since the girl who consumed me wanted nothing to do with me.
Then in walked Louisa.
She wanted what Ash had warned me about—to get back together. I hated that I thought about it for just a moment, it seemed easy and a ticket out of this drama.
But she isn’t Emerson.
Everything about Louisa was wrong. I didn’t have to tell her I was in love with someone else. My body language said it all being so withdrawn and closed in. It was enough for her to walk away with a bruised ego.
My eyes open wide with the sun shining against my skin. There are voices inside the apartment—sounds like Chris and Abbi have arrived.
This is it.
The cat’s out of the bag, and either this makes or breaks us.
Abbi’s sitting on the sofa, twisting her hands and staring at the shaggy rug. She’s quiet and withdrawn, not even acknowledging Emerson’s presence.
Chris is the exact opposite. Pacing up and down while mumbling to himself—the same thing he does when watching our games—and stops mid-step to spin and face all of us. “I want the full story,” he demands, glowering with a stiff pose. “Tell me what the hell happened tonight.”
“We went out, Dad,” Emerson says quietly. “I was watching her, they were sitting on the sand having fun. Another girl thought it would be fun to go for a swim, but she got swept out. Tayla tried to save her.”
“And you didn’t think to warn your sister to not go in?” he questions anxiously.
“I was… um… busy.”
“You were busy?”
Emerson nods, tilting her head as our eyes meet. It’s the first time she’s looked at me all night, and in just that one gaze I want to apologize for my irrational behavior that got us into this mess in the first place, but she quickly turns away avoiding me once again.
“It doesn’t explain why you’re here.” Chris points to me rudely. “You should be in England training for the goddamn game tomorrow. This makes no sense to me.”
“It makes perfect sense,” Abbi speaks up calmly, still avoiding eye contact with everyone. “We’ve been lied to, Chris.”
“Mom, I’m sorry but—”
“Emerson. I didn’t raise you this way,” Abbi begins, then stalls, a look of discontent spreading across her tired face. “I’m disappointed in both of you. After what happened with Ashley, I thought you knew how I felt about secrets in our family. What did you think I would honestly say to you?”
“It’s my fault,” Wesley jumps in, quick to defend her. “Things got out of hand in Amsterdam, and I let it ruin our relationship. Just don’t blame, Em. Everything she’s done is out of revenge against me, not you.”
I remain tight-lipped. Angry we’re even here. All of this could have been avoided if she’d simply fucking left him. He’s the reason we’re here. His fucking dick running loose with whores. Yet, if he didn’t hurt her to begin with you wouldn’t have realized that the person in front of you is the only woman you want to be with.
“And you?” Chris points again at me. “I still don’t get why you’re here.”
“Chris,” Abbi raises her voice in frustration. “They’re sleeping together.”
“Who?”
“Emerson and Logan.”
Emerson keeps her head low, then raises it to meet mine with a tear falling down her exhausted face. Wesley moves over to where she sits, comforting her as I stand watching, wondering why the fuck I’m allowing any of this. His hands are all over her again. My anger paralyzes me, my emotions wild and out of control.
“Is that true?” Chris questions, disturbed by the reality of the situation.
“I love her.”
In the arms of the man that offered her a life of happiness, her conflicted gaze confuses me. Isn’t that what she wants to know? And isn’t that what all women wants a man to confess? There’s nothing else I can say or do. That’s all my cards, laid flat on the table for everyone to see.
“You’re damn right you better love her if you’re willing to jeopardize your goddamn career!” Chris shouts. The sound echoes through the apartment until Abbi asks him to keep it down. “Your whole life you’ve worked to get where you are. Ashley’s back home training his ass off to win this game and you’re here because of what?”
“Because I fucking love your daughter, and watching her with someone else is torture.” I stand, raising my hands as I yell in frustration. “The game means nothing to me if the one thing I want is fucking engaged to someone else.”
Abbi moves her gaze to meet mine, a look of astonishment mixed with relief. Chris is not so forgiving, he’s still full of rage and shares no empathy for our fucked-up situation.
“Now you listen to me…” that pointed finger comes out again, stern and warning me that I have no say in what he’s about to command, “… you will go back to England. You will win your games and prove you’re still the best. I did not spend the last fifteen years raising you as my son for you to let me down despite who the girl is.”
“Chris, you don’t get it—”
“Oh, I get it all right,” he interrupts unapologetically. “She’s my daughter. You want my respect? You want my approval to date her or whatever your plan is? Then get the hell out of here and leave her alone. Focus on your game then deal with this when you’re done winning. That’s the end of it.”
Chris tells Abbi to grab her bag and pack Tayla’s belongings so they can fly home. The two of them disappear into the bedroom leaving the three of us alone.
Rubbing the back of my neck, I struggle to even think about walking away right now. How the fuck does he expect me to focus on the game? My fingers are restless, moving of their own accord until they’re bunched up into a ball, clenched and ready to smash into something, anything for relief.
“I don’t have words for either of you.” Emerson removes herself from Wesley, moving toward the balcony with her back facing us. She’s changed into sweats and a tank with her hair propped up in a messy ponytail.
“Did you try to pay him off?”
I nod at the same time she turns around. There’s nothing but hatred in her expression. No signs of love or any compassion even though I’ve just told everyone in this room I love her.
Her angered stare shifts to Wesley. “And, you so willingly accept that?”
Wesley tries to move to her but is stopped as she holds her palm up and demands he doesn’t take another step forward. Emerson bows her head, focusing on her hand, and removes the diamond ring from her engagement finger. She extends her hand and motions for Wesley to take it.
The tension releases from my muscles. The sudden lightness curing the doubt that washed over me only moments ago. Her ending their relationship for good in front of me means only one thing—she’s ready to commit and I can walk away and win our finals knowing the woman I love is waiting for me.
Wesley takes the ring from her silently with his shoulders slumped. His body shakes, again, his reaction to the drugs I know he takes quite often despite Emerson thinking he’s clean.
Finally, she meets my stare. I wait, holding my breath for her overdue smile and words to ease my insecurity. “I want you both out of my life.” She grits her teeth with an arctic glare. “I don’t care what happens with the rest of filming… I almost lost my sister today because of this mess. It’s not worth it. Neither of you is worth losing my family over.”
“Emerson,” I call, panicked. “I am your family.”
“You…” the fire burns in her eyes, wild and out of control, fueled by exhaustion and anger, “… especially you.”
“Don’t do this,” I warn her.
“You know what?”
she shoots back with a bitter stare. “You did this. Not me. I was looking for a friend that night at the lake. You took advantage of the situation. You had your fun, you played your game, and you won. Game over, Carrington.”
“It wasn’t a game, Emerson.”
“It’s always been a game with you. That’s what you do. You play, you aim to win. In this game, you’ve won. I call defeat.” Without any more words she walks to her bedroom and slams the door shut behind her. My chest is aching, desperate to follow her and fix us. But I know who I’m dealing with. Emerson isn’t one to easily forgive. She’s headstrong and determined. Chasing after her will only hurt me more right now. And she doesn’t realize she’s done just that.
I can’t stand being here a second longer. Without saying goodbye, I leave the apartment and head to the car downstairs. The paparazzi are animals, they have multiplied in those few hours that we’ve been here.
I drive the car out of the garage as they attack me like a swarm of bees. With my foot on the pedal, I rev the engine and get the fuck out of here hoping to never see this place again.
***
The last plane to Heathrow is boarding in twenty minutes. I fly through customs, avoiding the questions despite their need to pat me down like a drug lord fleeing the country, and run to the boarding gate with only minutes to spare.
Settling in my seat on the plane, I finally pull out my cell. Twenty-three missed calls from Ash.
It will be like pulling off a Band-Aid, painful at first but worth it in the end. Before the pilot warns us to switch our cells to airplane mode, I hit dial, dreading this call.
“What the fuck happened to my sisters?” he barrels through the phone.
“Ash,” I strain.
“No!” he yells, causing me to retract the cell from my ear. “You thank your lucky stars Tayla’s alive. But Emerson... I can’t fucking believe you. How dare you disrespect our friendship that way? And you lied to me. I’m your fucking best friend and you screw my sister over? You don’t think I know what you’re like? You manipulate women to suit what you want. But guess what, buddy? You messed with the wrong person.”