I almost choke on a sudden rush of happiness. Fuck, I’m a sappy loser, but…we haven’t ridden together in weeks. “Sure. See you in the morning.”
He disappears into the house. I stay seated on his truck, but my joy and relief are short-lived. I always knew I’d fix stuff with East. I expect to fix things with Ella, too. And the twins. Gid. My brothers never stay pissed at me for long, no matter how royally I screw up.
But sitting here trading confessions with East reminds me that I’m still keeping a secret from my dad. Worse, I was so desperate to make sure that secret stayed hidden that I actually encouraged him to bring Brooke back into our lives.
I suddenly feel like hurling, and it has nothing to do with emotions or all the weed I smoked. Brooke’s back because I was too chickenshit to own up to my mistakes. Why didn’t I just tell her to screw off? So what if she tells the world that I’m the father of her kid? One DNA test and her story would go up in flames.
Instead, I made a deal with her. I urged my father to take her back just so he wouldn’t find out what I did. So Ella wouldn’t find out. But Ella knows the truth now. And…I take a breath…maybe it’s time Dad knew the truth, too.
23
Ella
After a pointless and frustrating conversation with Callum, I stomp upstairs and throw myself on the bed. Callum is ticked off that I got a job and that I want to give my inheritance back. He lectured me for twenty minutes about it before I interrupted by asking him if he’s trying to control me because he can’t control his sons. That went over really well.
I don’t get what the big deal is. It’s my inheritance, isn’t it? And I don’t want it. As long as I have Steve’s money, people like Dinah and Brooke will always be trying to take it from me. So let them. What do I care?
I give myself an hour-long pity party before finally sitting up to text Val.
What’re u up to?
BBQ with the fam. It’s terrible.
Jordan tormenting u?
No, she’s upstairs packing. She’s visiting her grandmother (dad’s side). They send her off there periodically bc the old bat is rich rich rich. From the way they talk about her, I think she’s a bag of skin stuffed with rolled up hundies.
I laugh.
Sounds like she’ll live forever.
Possibly. I think she’s 80 now.
All this $$$ makes me anxious. I feel like if the Royals didn’t have any, they’d all be happier.
Babe, no one’s happy if they’re poor.
I ponder that thought. When Mom was alive, I was happy. Yeah, we had problems, and at times they seemed insurmountable, but we had a lot of laughter in our lives. There was never any doubt in my mind that she loved me with everything in her. It’s that unadulterated love that I miss. The pure, sweet unshakeable love that she had for me kept me warm at night and filled my empty stomach during the day.
And there’s no guarantee of happiness just bc you’re rich either.
Actual studies show u can buy happiness.
Okay! I give. Let’s buy some happiness with my $.
We were happy shopping the other day. I’m game for the mall if u are. But not tonight. Tonight I have to suffer. In fact, auntie is glaring at me right now. Gotta go.
I drop the phone on my bed and stare at the ceiling. I guess money can make things better to a certain extent. Maybe I’m approaching this the wrong way. Maybe I can buy the Royals happiness by buying Brooke off. She wants security in the form of the Royal bank account, right? What if I could get her to leave by offering her my inheritance? Callum doesn’t want it. I could live without it. I think…hmm, I think this might be a quality idea. I just wish I had someone to run it past.
I drum my fingers against the coverlet. There is someone who knows Brooke better than I do, and he happens to live in this house.
Argh. Is this an excuse to talk to Reed? Maybe. I push the thought aside and get up to find him.
It’s not easy. The Royals have scattered. Seb and Sawyer are probably at Lauren’s house. Easton’s door is locked and the music in his room is so loud he doesn’t hear my knock. Or maybe he does and is ignoring me. Down the hall, I peek into Reed’s room. His door is open, but he’s not around.
I wander around the big house until I finally hear some noise. It’s coming from the exercise room. A rhythmic thudding leads me down the stairs into the basement. The door is propped open, and I spot Reed pummeling his fists against a large bag. Sweat drips down his face and his upper body glistens.
Ugh, he’s so hot.
I tell my hormones to settle down and push the door open. His head swings toward me immediately.
“Hey,” I say quietly.
He catches the bag and steps back, wiping a wrapped hand across his face. His eyes are red and I wonder if some of the moisture on his face might be from something other than sweat.
“What’s up?” he asks, and his voice cracks. Using the pretense of needing a drink, he ducks his head and grabs a water bottle.