Queen of Hawthorne Prep
“That’s not true!” The rest pours out in a rush. “I didn’t think anything would come of it.” My throat goes dry, making it impossible to swallow. “I figured it would all fall apart, and no one would ever find out that they tried to break the agreement. I didn’t want to cause any more problems between our families.”
“How did that work out for you?”
My shoulders sink. “Not well.”
He lowers his mouth before tracing his tongue along the curve of my top lip. I can’t stop myself from melting beneath the caress. My punishment is to forever want someone who loathes my very existence.
When he pulls away a fraction, I murmur brokenly, “I never meant to hurt you.”
Only now do I realize how desperate I am for him to believe me. My father’s death has wrecked havoc throughout my life. No longer is there anyone to lean on. As much as it pains me to admit it, I need him. I need Kingsley’s strength to get me through this. As his lips hover over mine, I groan, wanting so much more. Is it possible for him to banish the grief that throbs through me like a living, breathing entity?
“You fucked me over and made a fool out of me,” he whispers harshly. “When I’m done, you’ll wish you’d never heard of this damn town.”
I yelp when his teeth sink into my lip. Pain bursts through me and the warm metallic taste of blood overwhelms my senses. His gaze drops to the red smear on my lip before he laves it with his tongue.
“I’ll be staying after for football. When I get home, your ass better be there. Don’t make me hunt you down.”
He doesn’t wait for a response as his grip loosens from my hair. Tears flood my eyes as he slides from the table, sauntering away. The little bit of solace I had found in the library has been shattered. And somehow, I don’t think I’ll ever find it again.
As the door slams shut in the distance, my gaze falls to the table and the brown paper bag that has been left behind in his wake. It only sends more confusion rippling through me.
Chapter Twenty
At the end of the day, Everly drops me off at home so that Austin has access to the G-wagon after practice. The thought of my brother being on the same field with Kingsley after they almost came to blows this morning fills me with dread. Austin needs to keep his temper under control and not get into anymore trouble. There’s no way in hell that Kingsley will bail him out for a second time. If anything, the dark-haired boy will gun for my brother’s expulsion.
With a wave, I watch Everly pull out of the driveway before heading into the house. I slip inside before closing the door and dropping my backpack to the marble floor in the entryway like I’ve done dozens of times.
For a fraction of a heartbeat, I close my eyes and allow myself to pretend that my life hasn’t been blown apart at the seams. As I wait for Mom to call out an upbeat greeting from the study, I pray with all my might that the last week has been nothing more than a terrible dream. I’ll wake up with Kingsley’s arms wrapped around me before collapsing against him and sharing the details. When I’m finished, he’ll smack a kiss against my lips, assuring me that everything is fine.
Instead, the house remains eerily silent. There’s a staleness that clings to the air that never used to be there. When I finally open my eyes, the weight of the world presses down until I’m paralyzed with the heaviness of it.
Memories swirl around me and I gravitate to the study. As I sag against the doorframe, resting my head along the smooth grain wood, my gaze falls on the empty desk and sorrow crashes over me like a heavy wave, threatening to drag me under. How many times did I find my father sitting behind the antique piece of furniture, staring at his laptop while Mom was curled up on a wingback chair, enjoying a cup of tea as afternoon sunlight slanted in through the window?
With one blink, the image dissolves, leaving behind an ache in its place. Unable to stand the debilitating grief that radiates through me, I turn away and head to the staircase. It takes effort to trudge up the curving treads. Once at the second floor, I turn toward the master suite only to find the door closed. Instead of knocking, I turn the handle and peek inside. Mom is a huddled mass in the middle of the king-sized mattress. My heart sinks as a feeling of powerlessness overwhelms me. I have no idea what to do for her or how to make the situation better. While Dad was stolen from us in the blink of an eye, it seems like Mom plans to drift away a little bit at a time. I’m not sure which is worse.