“You wanted to leave,” he reminds me. “That’s all you fucking talked about. Getting away from here. Now because Ella’s around you think it’s worth staying? What kind of loyalty do you have to your family?”
He jumps onto the sand and lets the night swallow him up, leaving me alone with my miserable thoughts.
Nobody forced me to sleep with Brooke. I made that decision all by myself. I took perverse satisfaction in figuratively sticking it to my dad by literally sticking it to his girlfriend.
I wanted him to suffer. He deserved to after everything he did to our family. He drove Mom to the brink with his cheating and lies. I feel like the lies were the worst. If he hadn’t repeatedly promised that he wasn’t involved in all those things Steve was doing, in all those whorehouses around the world with all those high-class escorts, models, and actresses that a billionaire’s money can buy, maybe Mom would’ve left him.
And if she’d left, she’d probably still be alive today. But she’s not. She’s dead, and Dad’s neglect and cheating killed her as solidly as the pills she took that night.
I press my lips together. Of course, my revenge is meaningless since I haven’t had the balls to tell him about me and Brooke. And every time I think about him finding out I feel like puking.
I’ve spent the last couple of years trying to destroy everything around me. Who knew success would taste so bitter.
15
Ella
“What’s going on?” Val demands at lunch on Friday. “And don’t say nothing because you all look like a royally depressed mess. Even Easton looks like someone kicked his puppy.”
“Is that a euphemism?” I try joking.
Valerie glares at me. “No. Not really.”
I pick at my meal. I haven’t been able to eat much this week and I think it shows. Every time I try to eat, the vision of Brooke telling us all about her pregnancy pops up, except it isn’t Callum at her side. It’s Reed. And then my terrible mind runs with it, showing me images of Reed holding the baby, pushing a stroller in the park with Brooke looking like a fitness model beside him, the two of them cooing over their stupid baby’s first steps.
No wonder I can’t eat.
This morning when I pulled my jeans on, they felt loose. The clothes are wearing me instead of the other way around.
I’m not ready to tell Val about how the entire Royal household is rotting from the inside out, but if I don’t give her something she might stab me with her fork. “I thought being an only child sucked, but family drama is a hundred times worse.”
“Reed?” she asks.
“Not just him. It’s everyone.” I hate the tension in the house. The way the brothers don’t look at each other over breakfast. And I can’t even escape because I’ve lost my job. I guess I should start looking for a new one. This time it’s not because I need the money, but because every time I walk into the house, I feel like a hundred pound weight descends on my shoulders. And it’s going to be even worse once the baby arrives. I don’t know how I’m going to deal with that.
“Life sucks, but if it makes you feel any better, I blocked Tam’s phone number.”
“You did?” It’s about time. Tam’s stupid suggestion of having an open relationship was basically his way of keeping Val locked down while he spread his skanky ass all over his college campus, and she doesn’t deserve that. “Because that does make me feel better.”
“Yup, and it felt good. I was tormenting myself reading all his texts and I could feel myself weakening.”
“You know you can do better.”
“I know.” She takes a sip of her Diet Coke. “So last night I blocked him and I slept well for the first time in a long time. I woke up this morning and, yeah, it still hurt, but the pain wasn’t as bad.”
“It’s going to get better.” The words come out limply. That used to be my personal mantra.
I don’t know if I believe it anymore.
She fiddles with the can. “I hope so. Is there a real life block button? Because I need that in my life.”
“Sunglasses. Really big sunglasses,” I advise. “Or wait, even better—a shield.” I could use one at home against Reed.
A reluctant smile spreads across her face as she considers my silly suggestion. “Wouldn’t it be awkward trying to maneuver in that thing?”
“Nah, it’s brilliant. Let’s patent the sucker and make millions.”
“Done.” She holds out her hand and I slap my palm against hers.
“God, Val. I think you’re the best thing that happened to me since I moved here.”
“I know.” She gets a speculative look in her eyes, slides a glance toward the football table, and then returns to me. “Let’s go to the game tonight.”
“Um, no thanks. I take back every good thing I’ve said about you.”
“Why not?”
“First, I don’t like football. Second, I don’t want to cheer for people I don’t like. Third, other than you, all the rest of Astor Park can die in a fiery blaze.”
“You can pick me up at six thirty.”