I couldn’t keep thinking about him. Fuck a duck. This wasn’t okay.
I didn’t care about Brett Walker. Not one bit.
Except I did. Too much. And seeing him just now had brought back all the hurt from the day we graduated high school and he broke my heart without knowing it.
We were different people back in high school. Even though we were best friends, we were at opposite ends of the oh-so-important social totem pole.
He was at the top, the reigning king. Untouchable. Perfection in the eyes of so many. The guy everyone wanted to be.
I may as well have been shit trodden into the grass at the bottom of the pole.
I was that girl—the one who was subjected to attempted bribes to do other people’s homework. I know—what a freaking cliché, right?
The only thing that ever protected me was the unlikely friendship I had with the Walkers. Camille’s devotion to me stopped the bitchy ridicule of the geeky girl with her nose in a book. Brett’s influence stopped the bullying of the quiet, studious chick who might have forgotten to brush her hair because she, well, had her nose stuck in a book.
I was lucky. Many others like me...weren’t so much.
They stopped me being the girl who was under constant attack...until Brett spearheaded the attack without thinking I’d ever hear him.
The frozen, yellow drink gave me brain-freeze when I sucked hard on it, but I didn’t wince or shudder. I wanted it. I wanted to stop thinking. I didn’t want to walk further down that particular memory lane.
“Are you okay?” Camille asked me softly. Her eyes swam with concern. “Sorry. If I knew he was there—”
“It’s okay. I’m okay.” I pulled my drink closer to me. “I just...I don’t know, but I’m okay.”
“You’re as bad at lying as you always were.”
I shoved the glass to the side and dropped forward onto the tablet with a groan. “Why can’t he look like he’s been scraped out of the inside of a cat’s asshole?”
“Um,” Camille sputtered. “Because then I would too and that wouldn’t be fair?”
Despite myself, I laughed. Looking up, I ran my fingers through my hair. “Seriously, right now, I’d be okay with that.”
She pulled the lemon slice off the rim of her glass and threw it at me.
I sat up in time to dodge it. “Not like, in an asshole way. In a totally honest way.”
“Ah, there’s the journalist in you. You’re confusing honest with not being an asshole now.”
I grabbed her lemon and threw it back at her. “I can freelance everywhere, you know. Including here.”
She mimed zipping her lips. “Got it. Have you thought about how long you’re going to stay?”
“Er...” I paused and brought my drink back in front of me. Sipping it allowed me to delay my answer for a few seconds.
It did not, however, save me from Camille Walker’s wrath.
“No. You are not drinking to avoid the question.” She leaned forward and reached for my glass.
I moved it out of her way. “I don’t know, okay? I haven’t thought about it. Connie is begging me to stay, but my livelihood depends on me getting stories and posting them to make money. I can’t see that happening here in Whiskey Key.”
Camille tapped her finger against her lips. “Actually...no. I’m not even going to say it.”
“Say what?”
“No. You’ll kick me for it.”
“Spit it out, lady.”
“Last night at dinner,” she started, sitting back as far away from me as she could. “My folks, like usual, got onto the top of Brett and his assholery.”
“I don’t like where this is going.”
“I knew you wouldn’t.”
“Carry on.” What? I was curious by nature.
“Pops said he needed to clean up his act or be cut off.” Camille bit her lower lip, sucking it right into her mouth.
My eyes widened. “No!”
I couldn’t imagine Henrick Walker saying that. Just—no. It didn’t seem to work.
“Yes.” She swirled her straw in her drink. “Apparently part of the act is a public pushing of his new persona. Which means somebody needs to make him out to be a good guy when he’s...”
“Not?” I asked bluntly.
She scratched beneath her ear. “He’s not a bad guy. You know that.”
Ha. No, I didn’t.
“He’s just...struggled. He went through college with issue after issue, and the last couple years have been hell. Actually, it started not long after you left.” She frowned. “Maybe he took it hard. I don’t know.”
“Oh no.” I put my finger in her face and waved it side to side. “You are not blaming me for the fact your brother is a royal fucktard. He was that before I left, believe me. I know that for a fact.”
“I’m not saying you’re to blame. But I know there’s more to that story.”
“And that story will stay unwritten.”
She rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Look—what if I speak to Dad and we can have you write the articles on Brett without seeing him?”
“Sure,” I said flatly. “While you do that, I’m going ask Edward Scissorhands to scoop the eggs out of my ovaries.”
“Come on, Lani.” She leaned forward, resting her forearms on the table. “We could do that and my family is desperate enough that they’d pay you a ton of money. Enough that you could stay here with Connie until after the baby’s born.”
“That’s unfair.”
“That’s real,” she corrected me. “Please? Let me ask.”
I was going to regret this, but she’d swayed me a little with her line about Connie. I did want to be here for my sister. If I could do this, make money, and avoid Brett...well, it was a naive thought. We’d cross paths sooner or later. But I liked the thought enough to risk it.
Maybe...
“Ask,” I said firmly. “But I’m not agreeing to anything until I’ve spoken to your dad.”
Camille’s mouth broke out into a wide smile. “You got it.”
I think it’s pretty obvious how I ended up outside the Walker household the next day. I’d somehow managed a full night of sleep, but there I was at ten a.m., outside of the Walker House, waiting for someone to open the door.
I’d lost my mind. It was the only explanation for why I was where I was.
William Walker was happy for me to do the articles on his son, and he was willing to pay me a bucket load of money.
I was here for the money. That, and my sister had told me that if I didn’t agree to the assignment, she’d put me at the vagina end during her labor.
I knocked once more.
“Rose, please answer the door! I’m on the phone!” A woman—Mae Walker—shouted from somewhere inside.
Seconds later, the door opened, and I came face-to-face with who I assumed was a very harried-looking Rose. Whoever she was. “Miss Montana?”
“Yes, ma’am.” I smiled. “That’s me.”
“Come in. Mr. Walker is speaking with his father and then he’ll be ready to see you.” She hurried me inside, shut the door, and then led me down a long hall to where a door was closed at the end. She knocked lightly twice and turned to me. “He knows you’re here. Sorry I don’t have a seat for you.”
“Oh, no. I’m fine standing. Thank you.” I smiled again and clasped my hands in front of me.