Dad did this.
He destroyed our family.
Tonight was a good reminder to keep my head on straight and not lose sight of my goal.
Make them pay.
Starting with Alis.
Alister
I’m so fucking tired.
After the momentous mistake yesterday letting Canyon bring me to orgasm, and with my clothes on no less, I went straight home to work on a new sculpture.
This one of his face.
He’d looked so arrogant and powerful as he held me down. Pleased as hell at what he was doing to me. But his blue eyes also burned with heat and attraction. That was what I wanted to capture. The way his lips were parted as though he wanted to kiss me.
Stupid.
So, so stupid.
This is all a game for us.
Especially him.
I’m nothing more than someone for him to toy with.
“Got a new boyfriend we don’t know about?” Ryan teases at breakfast, his handsome face looking too similar to Canyon’s for me to think straight.
“W-What?” I croak out, shuddering at the idea of him seeing inside my head.
A knowing smirk teases his lips. “The hickeys. You know, if he sticks around, you can bring him to the wedding.”
Heat blooms across my flesh, and I tear my stare from his probing gaze to Dad’s. His eyebrow is lifted in amusement as he sips his coffee.
“It was nothing,” I rasp out, dropping my attention to the half-eaten pile of eggs on my plate.
“Yeah, yeah,” Ryan jokes. “Your dad and I were nothing too until we were something.”
I hear the sound of their lips smacking together for a kiss. I’ve seen them kiss hundreds of times before, but for some reason, this time it bothers me.
Because you were getting dry fucked by Ryan’s son last night…
A groan manages to escape me. They confuse it for my annoyance at their kiss, not what’s really going on in my head, thank God.
Dad mentions something about a change in the florist when my phone buzzes in my pocket. I tune them out to see who texted me.
Brother Lover: A few more weeks, and we can make this official.
Me: There’s nothing to make official. Go bother someone else.
Brother Lover: I only have you to bother. Soon, I can bother you all the time.
What the hell does that even mean?
Rather than replying, I shove my phone back into my pocket and rejoin the conversation.
“You know, the flowers could be messed up, or the cake could fall, or it could rain, but want to know what I’m most worried about?” Ryan’s voice cracks with emotion. “That they won’t come.”
They being his children.
“If they love you, they’ll come to the wedding,” Dad assures him, squeezing his hand. “I know you guys are in a rocky spot, but it’ll get better. It already has. We saw Canyon just the other day, and Alis has started practicing violin with Carrie. We’ll be a family. You’ll see.”
Guilt is a tangible thing I can feel rolling around on my tongue—sour and tastes like regret.
I’m helping Carrie because I want to find dirt on Canyon. Because we’re in some epic pissing match that neither of us will stand down from. If Dad knew what I was really up to, he’d be disappointed. More than that, he’d be crushed.
And then what?
Kick me out on my ass when I graduate?
Bile rises in my throat. I chug my orange juice to keep from barfing.
“Alis,” Dad says, giving me a hopeful smile. “Maybe you could talk to them. Since you’re becoming friends with both Carrie and Canyon. It would mean the world to Ryan and me if you could convince them to come to the wedding.”
Oh, fuck.
“I, uh, am not sure I have that kind of power. Canyon’s a stubborn ass, and he’s still pretty angry.”
Ryan deflates at my words. “I just wish they’d talk to me…”
Despair hangs in the air. I hate seeing my dad so down because of Ryan’s pain. If I have the power to get him what he wants, I should certainly try. Canyon hates his dad and me, but he does talk to me. Maybe I could convince him to go to the wedding.
“I’ll bring it up to both of them,” I promise Ryan. “I don’t know how they’ll react, but I’ll try. I know it means a lot to you.”
Ryan’s smile is bright and lights up the entire room, much like his beautiful son. “Thank you, Alis. I owe you one.”
My dad’s brilliant grin is all the thanks I need.
I can do this.
I have to.
Canyon beat me.
The fucker beat me.
Just once out of four different matches. But still. It’s enough to have him gloating—prancing along the track like a fucking rooster with his chest puffed out. Coach Davies is jabbering away about how we’re going to blow up Marsh Hall High’s world when we kill them in the 100-meters and that there’ll be college scouts there to see us run. My mind is on a million things besides the track meet on Saturday, though.