Ruthless Love (Ash and Innocence 1)

“They don’t pump your stomach for weed,” I said.

“I know. But some guys get high for fun. They get drunk for fun, too. Tristan always seemed like he was using it to hide from something. Maybe whatever he took was doing that for him.”

I shook my head. “I’ve been telling myself it’s okay to make mistakes. I spent so long dreaming about what it’d be like to do all this. To walk, to be a normal high school kid. To date. To do stupid stuff. But I don’t want to screw this up. Not him.”

“Then keep trying,” Logan said. “He’ll keep pushing you away and then pulling you in. If you really want this to work, know those pushes are coming, and don’t fight them. Be there for him when he’s ready to let you back in.”

“That actually makes a lot of sense.”

“Don’t sound so surprised.” Logan chuckled. “I have a little sister, you know. So this isn’t my first time giving boyfriend advice.”

I smirked. “I can tell.”32TristanParties at my house weren’t often planned. Usually, someone would decide to come over and bring a couple beers. They’d tell someone about it, who would also decide to show up with something to drink. By the end of the school day, nearly a hundred people would have plans to be at my place. Personally, I never gave a shit. If people wanted to deliver booze to me and girls, who was I to stop them.

But this time was different. I wanted the party.

I’m guessing the same anonymous tipper that had let paramedics know to come get me Tuesday night was the one who had tipped off coach. He asked me point blank if I’d taken anything, and I lied to his face. It bought me a day at best, but I knew the test was coming sooner or later. If I was lucky, I’d be able to play again senior year. If I wasn’t, I’d be looking at permanent removal from the team and maybe an expulsion.

I could barely look Kennedy in the face when she’d come to the hospital. I had done my best on Thursday to play it cool and not let my anger show, but she had sensed something was up.

The truth was I knew exactly who I had to blame for all of this. It was her fucking mom. I hadn’t taken shit myself. All I did was drink that tea. Her mom wanted me out of Kennedy’s life, and she was apparently psychotic enough to drug me and get me kicked off the team to send a message.

If she was willing to go that far, I had a sneaking suspicion she was capable of worse.

My first instinct had been to tell Kennedy everything. But it was her mom. What would I be doing to her if I destroyed her relationship with her last remaining parent?

She’d be living my nightmare, then. Maybe worse.

Whether her mom had said it or not, I knew one thing: if I kept pushing back, Kennedy would get caught in the crossfire. So all I could do was seethe. To think about what to do next and come up with no fucking suitable answer.

And then there was the realtor and my impending homelessness.

Every time I thought about the look on that realtor’s face, it made me want to invite ten more people. She had looked so disgusted to see me there—like some cockroach who had set itself on her kitchen counter. I bet my dad had warped the story, turning me into some vagrant son who was too difficult to come back to California and live happily with the family.

Telling the realtor the truth wouldn’t solve anything. So I was doing the next best thing. I was going to get a few hundred people to help me trash the house my father wanted to sell so badly.

I hadn’t told Kennedy about the party or invited her. I felt myself getting dragged toward a dark path I didn’t want to bring her down. It stung to think about. To realize just when I’d finally got a taste of something good, I had to push her away.

I knew my intentions tonight, and I guess I knew I wouldn’t be able to look at her without seeing how fucked up this was. She was my mirror, and right now, I didn’t want a good look at myself.

I threw back a drink, already well and truly buzzed by that point. Someone had brought speakers, so the music was even louder than usual. There was enough booze for everybody to get blackout drunk, and only an hour after it really got going, it already looked like the most out of control party I’d ever thrown.

In front of the house, there was a sort of mosh pit of guys that had formed when someone got into a fight, but it managed to devolve into a sustained sort of brawl. People were standing around the outer edge, watching with drinks in hand and cheering whenever someone got a bloody nose and had to work their way out of the skirmish.