Beautiful Burn (The Maddox Brothers, #4)(17)

I rushed down the hall to Finley’s room. Her bed was made, her room empty, her luggage gone.

“What the f*ck?” I said, running back to my room for my phone. I dialed Finley’s number.

She answered right away. “Ellie? Oh my Christ, honey, I’m in the car with Marco. They barely gave me time to get dressed. Maricela had my things packed and sitting next to the door when I got back to my room.”

“They kicked you out, too?”

“No. They want me to leave for Sanya. They said you need time alone.”

“Oh, for f*ck’s sake. I’m in a time-out?”

Finley grew quiet. “What are you going to do? Mother said you’re cut off.”

“I … I don’t know. I haven’t thought that far ahead. I guess … I guess I…” If I asked Finley for money, I would be as pathetic as every putrid mule we’d bitched about since puberty.

“They’ve forbidden me to help you,” Finley said, sounding defeated. “But I left all the cash I had in my nightstand. I think it’s eight or nine hundred. She’s taken your passport and frozen all of your accounts. I’m so sorry.”

“Did you know this was going to happen? Is that why you came home?”

“Of course not. You’re my sister, Ellie…”

“It’ll be okay. Thanks for the cash. When they stop being mad, they’ll feel bad and change their minds.”

“No,” Finley said softly. “They’ve turned over control to Sally.”

“That’s ridiculous. Not even possible.”

“They’ve signed a contract. Sally has to sign off on all monies or services extended to you. That’s what Mother told me. I don’t know what they’re going to do if you don’t find an apartment. Sally was talking about shelters in Estes Park.” I’d never heard Finley sound afraid before.

“That’s just … absurd. Once Daddy abandons this bullshit intervention, he’ll tell Sally to kick rocks. He loves me more than his own conscience, more than Mother—definitely more than a goddamn contract with a wannabe therapist.”

“Exactly. He loves you more than anything, Ellie. More than his guilt or pride, or your anger. More than me.”

“That’s not true, Finley. You’re the good daughter.”

“And you’re the one who requires the most attention.”

My chest ached. It was the truth, which made it that much more painful. I didn’t know Finley thought of me that way, and her opinion was the only one that mattered to me.

She continued like she hadn’t just ripped out my heart. “It’s too early to call, but I wouldn’t count on their help anytime soon. They’re serious this time. You’ve gone too far.”

“You have to talk to them.”

“I’ve tried. I’ve tried to talk to you, too, if you’ll remember.”

“Fin. You’re my sister. Help me.”

She paused for several seconds, and then sighed. “I am.”

Even though Finley couldn’t see me, I nodded, and then touched my fingers to my lips. She was right, but that didn’t make it fair. There were less dramatic ways for my parents to make their point.

“Have a good trip,” I said.

“I’m so sorry, Ellie.”

“Yeah,” I said, pressing the END button. The phone fell from my palm onto the bed. I looked out the window at the snow blowing off the trees. Get a job? I have a degree in ceramics. Where in the f*ck am I going to get a job in Estes Park?





CHAPTER FIVE


“I said no,” I said, picking at the wood on Sterling’s monstrosity of a dining room table.

“It’s perfect for you,” Sterling said, sipping his third glass of red wine. He was still licking his wounds from our night with Finley. Contrary to what he’d said when he’d invited me over, Sterling wasn’t the least invested in ideas for me to find a job in Estes Park.

“A bartender?” I said. “The people in this town know who I am—most of all the bartenders. They will laugh me out of the building if I go looking for a job. They won’t believe that I need one.”

“They can’t discriminate against you, Ellie. If you’re qualified more than anyone else who’s applied, they’ll have to give it to you.”

“That’s not how this works. They hire grandsons and nieces in this town. And, no. Not a bartender. I just got kicked out of Turk’s. They’ll be afraid I’ll drink up their stock. Especially now that José has been ordered to remove all the liquor from the house.”

“Really?”

“Really,” I grumbled.

“What the hell did you do, Ellie? It can’t be worse than the time you—”

“It wasn’t. A painting was broken. A few vases and a table. Some vomit on the floor … nothing the cleaning crew couldn’t handle.”

“Then it’s not about the money.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re f*cked. They’re not trying to teach you responsibility or appreciation, Ellison. They’re trying to save you from yourself. Betsy March’s parents did the same thing to her. You have no way out of this. You might as well give in or end it all now.”