Cracked Kingdom (The Royals #5)(38)

Mom gave me extra attention because of it. This is why I’m getting shafted now. Reed is jealous because he always wanted more of Mommy’s time and didn’t get it. Now he’s turning Ella against me.

“Don’t be mad,” she says.

I nearly bite my tongue off in an effort to not respond. The minute she hits the brakes in front of our house, I shoot out the door. She shouts something behind me, but I don’t care enough to decipher it. If they want to push me out of the family, they’re doing a damn good job.

I haul ass upstairs to my closet. I press a button under the center shelf and wait the long ten seconds for the false panel at the back to raise. Once the safe is revealed, I punch in the code and grab my cash. It’s not a lot—only five grand, but I should be able to find a poker game in town to win a little more. I stuff my LV cabin bag with some underwear, a change of clothes, my stupid fucking Astor Park uniform, and toiletries.

Once that’s done, I make a call to Pash, one of the few decent people I know. Day or night, the guy is always on his phone. Predictably, he answers after the second ring.

“What’s going on, man? I’m in the middle of something.” He sounds strained.

“I need a ride.”

“What happened to your truck?”

“It’s getting serviced.”

“Don’t you have a fleet of cars there? Oh shit—right there, baby.”

I roll my eyes. Of course, Pash is still answering his phone in the middle of a lay. “My old man is piss-his-pants scared another kid is going to end up in the hospital. None of us are allowed to drive except Ella.”

This time Pash’s groan is nonsexual. Ella’s reputation for driving no faster than thirty-five miles per hour is a well-known phenomenon at Astor Park.

“Dude, I’m so sorry. Can you give me…Hold on, babe.” He pauses, apparently trying to calculate how long it’s going to take to finish.

“Forget it.” I’m not so hard up that I’m going to interrupt a friend’s happy time. “I’ll call for a car.”

“Thank God,” he says in relief. “I’ll call you later.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“No. This won’t last long. Ouch. Damn. No, I’m going down on you. I told you I would. Shit,” he says into the phone. “I gotta go.”

I swallow a laugh, feeling a little more normal. My world is screwed up, but everyone else’s is operating as usual.

I step outside so that Ella and I don’t piss each other off even more. I walk down the long drive to the entrance gate. While I wait for the car, I pull up my texts to Hart. She still hasn’t read them. That makes me mad and sad and frustrated. Why in the hell is she hanging out with Bran? Does she remember him but not me? That thought makes me want to chuck my already broken phone on the asphalt until it’s nothing but a pile of tiny metal pieces. Of course, if my phone is destroyed and Hart tries to text me, I’ll miss it.

What is Bran doing? Is he fucking with her head like Felicity? Is he trying to get in her pants now that she’s vulnerable? What kind of sketchy asshole behavior is that? I scroll through my contacts. I have him in here. I’m sure of it.

“Gotcha,” I say when I come across his entry. I shoot him a text.

Me: Don’t fuck with my girl.

He responds immediately. I’m looking out for her.

Me: That’s not your job.

Bran: You’re not around.

The hell I’m not, I type in but before I press send, the accuracy of his accusation sets in. He’s right, that fucker. I’m not at school. He is. As long as I’m playing watchdog for Seb at the hospital, Hartley is on her own over there at Astor Park.

I shove my phone back in my pocket without responding to Bran. I’m letting this go for now, because as pissed as I am that he’s treading on my territory, Mathis is a good guy. He’ll—I clench my teeth and my fists—he’ll look out for Hartley at school. She needs that.

But he better stay the fuck out of her pants.

“You’re going to the east end? Is that right?” my driver asks ten minutes later, after I slide into the backseat. He’s a thin male with a nose two sizes too big for his face. He taps his screen as if he’s sure that it’s malfunctioning.

“Yup.”

“You work here?” he asks, jerking his head toward the house.

“Something like that.” I slip a pair of headphones over my head, and the driver takes the hint by shutting up. The place I’m going is a far cry from the one I’m leaving, but it’s the only place I can think to go.

She’s not there, but it’s her home. And mine now, too.





Chapter 17





Hartley





I'm not so sure that I was sent away so much as I ran away, I decide later that evening. The Wright household is a nightmare. My dad is glued to his phone twenty-four/seven. My little sister, who I remember being moody, has turned into a full-fledged demon seed who’s likely to kill me off in my sleep some night. My oldest sister hasn’t been to the house since my first day home. My mom talks constantly about what a certain Mrs. Carrington is doing. This week Mrs. Carrington is doing a soup cleanse.

“We should try it,” she suggests to Dad as he devours his pot roast and sweet potatoes.