I clench my fists against my knees. “Yes, you do.”
“No. I don’t. I don’t need anything from you.” Her expression fills with irritation. “You’ve caused me nothing but trouble from the moment I met you. So, please, for the love of God, don’t try to help anymore. Don’t help, and definitely don’t fix. You’re not capable of fixing things.” Sadly, she shakes her head. “All you do is break them.”
She leaves me with that. A knife to the heart. An accusation that, no matter how badly I want to, I can’t defend myself against.
All I can do is drive home. I can’t go back to school, not when I feel like I’ve been gutted. I can’t face Ella or my teammates or that bitch Felicity. So I go home, and I grab a drink from the liquor cabinet that my dad has blessedly restocked. Getting drunk isn’t my end game. I just need to loosen up. To clear my head so I can come up with a solution to this problem. The problem I created. The mess I caused.
I owe that to Hartley.
Chapter 29
At nine o’clock, it hits me.
The solution.
I hurl myself out of bed, but it takes a few moments for my body to stop swaying and the head rush to go away. Whoa. Okay, maybe I shouldn’t have gotten up that fast. I’d been lying flat on my back for hours, nursing the bottle of bourbon I lifted from Dad’s study. Note to self: ease into this vertical thing slowly.
I’m not drunk, though.
Nope, not drunk. Just buzzed. Buzzzzzed.
“Easton, you okay?” Ella pops her head into my open doorway, looking worried.
I break out in a smile when I see her. “I’m A-OK, baby sis! A-fucking-o-fucking-kay.”
“I heard a crash. Did you fall? Break something?”
“You’re hearing things,” I tell her. “Because I didn’t fall and nothing broke.”
“Then why is there a broken bottle on the floor?”
I follow her accusatory gaze to the foot of my nightstand. Huh. She’s right. There’s a whiskey bottle on the carpet and it’s in two pieces. Must have hit the corner of the night table and broken in half on its way down. Whiskey, though? I was drinking bourbon.
My gaze travels to the bedspread, where I left the bourbon bottle. Oh. Guess I was drinking both.
“Are you going somewhere?”
“None of your bizness.” I tear my eyes away from the bottle and look for my keys. Crap, I don’t remember where they are.
I rifle through a pile of clothes. A jingle in the back pocket of a pair of jeans catches my attention.
“Aha,” I crow, pulling out the key fob. “There you are.”
“There’s no way you’re going anywhere.” Ella grabs for the keys. “You’re in no condition to drive.”
“Fine.” I let her take them and pull my phone out of the other pocket of the same jeans. I tap a few times and smile at the screen in satisfaction. “There you go. Got a car coming.”
The little map informs us that my driver is fifty-five minutes away. Or…wait, maybe that’s five minutes. I swear I saw two fives. It better not be two fives, though, because I need to catch Hartley’s dad before he leaves to take her to the airport.
“Good,” Ella says, looking relieved. “But just in case, I want your bike keys.”
“They’re in the mudroom. I won’t take them with me, I promise.”
She trails after me anyway, as if she needs to see with her own two eyes that my keys are staying home. I make it easier for her by tossing them over when we get to the mudroom.
“For safekeeping,” I tease.
“Tell Hartley I said hi,” she says wryly.
I jog down the driveway and reach the front gates just as the Uber driver is pulling up. I give her the address and then settle in the backseat to call Hartley.
“What do you want, Easton?” I guess that’s her version of hello.
“Hey, babe. I just wanted to tell you not to go with your dad when he comes to get you tonight.” A thought occurs to me. “If he comes to get you. He might not anymore.”
“Why wouldn’t he?”
“I’m not saying he would or he wouldn’t,” I babble. “But if he does, don’t go with him. ’Kay?”
“I don’t understand what you’re saying, but I’ve got to be in the car or Dylan goes to the boarding school. Dad doesn’t make idle threats. If he says something, he’ll follow through.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m taking care of everything.”
There’s a brief pause. “What do you mean?”
“I’m taking care of it,” I repeat, smiling to myself.
“Oh God. Easton. What the hell are you up to? What’s going on? Actually, you know what? Don’t answer that. I don’t care what’s happening, just that you stop it. You need to stop it right now.”
“Can’t. Already on my way.”
“On your way where?”
“To your dad’s house. I’m gonna have a talk with him.”
“What! Easton, no!”
“Don’t worry, baby, I’ve got you. Got this.”
“Easton—”
I hang up, because all the shouting is making my temples throb. It’s okay that she’s mad at me. She won’t be mad after I convince her father to let her stay in Bayview. I have a plan. Mr. Wright takes bribes. So I’m gonna bribe him.
I’m Easton Royal. I’ve got money coming out of my ass. All I have to do is give Hartley’s dad some money and he’ll leave us alone. Money has solved every problem in the past. Money and a hard fist to the face. I’m happy to add in the second part if I need to. I’m not sure how I’ll get him to leave Hartley’s sister alone, but I’m planning on winging that part.
The driver stops next to the curb. I start to get out, but then realize the driveway looks really long. Too long to walk, especially when I have wheels.
I tap the driver on the shoulder. “Drive up to the door.”
“We’re not supposed to go on private property,” the gal says.
I pull out a few bills and wave them at her. “They’re expecting me.”
She hesitates but pulls forward. See? Problem plus money equals no problem. Heh.
I stagger to the front door and lean on the doorbell. Inside, I can hear the chime repeat itself over and over. It’s annoying. Someone should come to the door soon.
When I see some movement, I start pressing the doorbell repeatedly to get their attention.
It works. The door opens and a man looks out at me. He’s about my dad’s age, only with more gray in his hair.
“How you doing?” I greet him with a nod. “Got a minute?”
“Who the hell are you?” Mr. Wright asks me.
I straighten to my full height and peer down my nose at him. He’s shorter than I expected. Looked way taller when I saw him at Hartley’s door earlier.
“Easton Royal.” Should I salute? Nah. Let’s get this dog and pony show over with. I reach into my back pocket and pull out my dad’s checkbook. “What’s it gonna cost, John?” I smile at my baller move in adding his first name.
“Who the hell are you?” he repeats.
“Man, I already told you.” This guy is slow. Is he really a lawyer? “I’m Easton Royal. I’m here to make a deal with you.”
“Get off my porch and leave.”
The door starts closing, but I’m quick and I dart inside the front hall before he can block me.