“You think it was someone you know?”
“Or sent by someone I know.”
“You didn’t get a look at the guy?”
“There were three of them, I think. Maybe more. It’s a blur.”
My phone buzzes again.
Ty: I’ll take that as a no. Is it creepy if I try again tomorrow?
I’m still reeling at Dad’s words. Did Ford bring a bunch of friends? His brother? He’s mentioned a brother before. The truth of the matter is, I don’t know much about Ford. I don’t know what kind of people he hangs out with or his motives for befriending me.
This morning was more than what friends do.
His fingers were inside you, girl.
He made you come.
“Are you going to answer the poor guy?” Dad asks, gesturing at my phone. “Don’t keep him waiting.”
I nod slowly and then tap out a reply.
Me: Fine.
Ty: Fine…what? Try again tomorrow?
Me: Fine. As in, we’ll make it a date.
He sends me a bunch of smiling emojis, clearly happy with that answer. I’d smile back except I can’t shake the way Dad looks at me. Like he’s setting me up to fail. If he only knew. I failed spectacularly this morning. Any minute, that failure is going to show up at my home and who knows what sort of catastrophe will ensue.
Ty: I’m on my way to an event my family is making me attend, but when I get back in town, I’ll text you about our date. Tell your dad I hope he feels better soon.
Me: K. Bye.
I lift my chin and meet Dad’s probing stare. “He’s excited and hopes you feel better soon.”
Silence befalls the room. Sandra is no longer shouting at the help. It’s quiet aside from the booming of my heart that seems to be echoed in my ears. I fidget in my seat, hating how exposed I feel right now.
Can he see it written all over my face?
What I did today with Ford?
The doorbell rings and I jump. Anxiety claws its way up my chest, gripping my throat and rendering me unable to breathe. My face heats, giving me away. It’s so damn obvious. Dad, who never misses a thing, watches me with narrowed eyes.
“It’s just a date with a boy from a powerful family, sweetheart. Not a marriage proposal. You’ll always be my little girl. No one else’s. Just mine.”
The possessive, threatening tone has me withering.
There is no escape.
I was stupid to even hope.
Chapter Nineteen
Sully
Someone is blowing up my phone and it’s pissing me off. As if dealing with Heathen, who’s acting like a beast from hell in her carrier, isn’t enough, I have someone calling my phone over and over again.
For fuck’s sake.
Exiting the elevator, I set the hissing cat in her carrier down, and fish my phone out of my pocket. It’s Sparrow. He can be such a goddamn woman sometimes.
“What?” I demand, irritation dripping from the word. “I’m kind of busy.”
“Yeah,” he snaps. “I can tell. I only called you fifteen times.”
“What’s wrong? Is Mom okay?”
He sighs. “I’m sure. She’s in prison, not dead. No, this is worse. It’s Scout.”
My blood runs cold. Scout went to school in place of Sparrow today. Since Scout isn’t answering his phone, I’ve been on edge wondering how it went. I mean, he was on a college campus, so surely he couldn’t have gotten into too much trouble.
“He did something. I don’t know what, but it’s bad.” Sparrow curses and breathes heavily into the phone. “She told me never to speak to her again.”
“Fuck,” I grumble. “Did she say why?”
“I asked her what happened and she said, ‘You happened.’”
“Did you talk to Scout?”
“Not answering his phone.”
“I’m sure he was just being a dick. It’s fine.”
“Dude, she blocked me.”
“Could she have found out it was us Wednesday night? Would he have told her?”
“Knowing Scout, anything’s possible. Do you think he could have hurt her?”
Flashes of the past burn behind my eyes in rapid succession. I’m not going to let him go down this path again. Last time, we were collateral damage. This is a pattern for him—obsess over someone he can’t have, take it too fucking far, and then get destroyed by the ones who love her. In this case, Alexander Croft has the ability to crush us like Winston Constantine did.
“I’ll find out,” I assure him, “and I’ll make it right.”
He lets loose a long, relived sigh. “Thanks.”
“I have a question, though.”
A beat of silence and then a bit of hesitancy in his voice. “Okay.”
“Why were you talking to Landry?”
“What do you mean? It’s our job.”
“Texting or talking on the phone. Your job was to deal with her at school. Nothing more. You didn’t tell me you were talking to her on the phone, too.”
“It’s not a big deal, man.”
“It is because I have to make sure my part of the story adds up. It’s fucking embarrassing when I say shit or do shit that contradicts what you’ve done. Why are you keeping your interactions with her to yourself? I told you what happened when I was at her house. I just don’t understand why you aren’t sharing what happens when you’re with her.”