Filthy Foreign Exchange(53)

“Echo, I love your brother. You know that. Anything I did was for him…so he could be a normal twenty-year-old guy, enjoying school, chasing his dreams. I told him everything, and he was okay with it.”

I remained quiet, gave her free rein of the rope, and she just tripped herself with it. Lies. Every single word. Sebastian may be young, but there’s no way he would’ve been okay with not having a choice about his own child. My brother could never be “normal” again after a betrayal like this—not to mention, if he was so okay with it, he wouldn’t have run across the globe.

Something comes over me so fast I can’t even fully comprehend what it is, and the roar I let out is truly animalistic. My body moves of its own volition, crazed and no longer within my control, ripping the metal tub that holds our hand chalk from its wooden mount. I throw it as hard as I can at Savannah, miraculously avoiding a murder sentence when it narrowly misses her head and clatters to the ground.

“What the hell, Echo!?” she screams. “You could’ve killed me!”

“What the f*ck, baby girl?”

Clay runs up behind me and wraps his arms around me, pinning my own to my sides in a vice lock.

Surprise, surprise. I’d wonder where Clay suddenly appeared from or why, but my blinders are off now, so there’s no pondering needed. He’s here because Savannah’s here.

“Get your f*cking hands off me, Clay—now!” I’m using all my strength to try and twist out of his grip. “And don’t ever call me ‘baby girl’ again. You make me sick!”

“Whoa.” He releases me, stepping between Savannah and me with both hands out in front of him. “What the hell did I do?”

“She’s mad we’ve become good friends and that you took me home from that party the other night,” Savannah enunciates very carefully, as close to saying “Go along with me” without actually saying it as she can. And didn’t she just tell me Clay didn’t take her home? She can’t even keep her lies and the agendas behind them straight anymore. I’d feel sorry for her if I thought she felt sorry about anything.

Clay doesn’t catch on. “No, I didn’t. Craig did.”

And the dumb bastard has the nerve to grin at me, as though flattered and somehow thinking that I’d ever be jealous over him. Unbelievable.

“Oh my God.” Astounded, I toss back my head and cackle shrilly, setting my narrow leer on Savannah. “I don’t know what’s more pathetic: the fact that you went home with the guy you tried to push on me, or that Clay here—who might’ve paid for you to abort my brother’s baby—actually thinks this is about me being jealous over him!”

“You said you didn’t like Craig!”

That’s what she took from what I just said?

“You’re right, Savannah.” I shake my head, as dumbfounded as I am disgusted. “Totally the important part. And you,” I sneer at Clay, “I don’t hear you denying what I said about you.”

They both remain silent and look at each other, then to me, matching guilt in their clueless expressions. Yeah, Echo found out, and you forgot to plan your cover speech.

Absolute morons.

“It’s okay. There’s nothing either of you can say, so just listen. I’ll talk slow—wouldn’t want you to miss anything.” I point a shaking finger at Clay first. “You tell my brother you had a part in this, or I will. And stay the hell away from me.

“And you,” I say to Savannah, “are the worst friend in the world. I never want to speak to you again. And if you so much as breathe in my brother’s direction, I’ll stomp a f*cking mud hole in you.” I start to back up. “Neither of you are allowed on this property again, or I’ll be having more target practice with my father. Get any shit you paid for, and get out. Now!”

I storm away, leaving behind any feelings I ever had for either of them.

No matter what did or didn’t happen, or why, one thing is clear: Sebastian was hurt enough to tell my mother the version he got, hurt enough to leave, and hurt enough to keep it from me.

Done. You don’t get a second chance with me if you double cross, lie to, or damage my big brother in any way.





Chapter 21


I don’t run or stomp my way to the house. Instead, I stroll calmly over, my room the ultimate destination for several reasons.

First, if I’m in a tizzy, my mother will not only know I eavesdropped—which, in itself, was wrong of me—but it will upset her all over again if she learns I’m distraught. There has to be a good reason she didn’t tell me. It may be as simple as her thinking it wasn’t any of my business, or Sebastian swearing her to secrecy…both reinforcing the wrongness of my eavesdropping.

And secondly, if I go steamrolling through the house, my father will drill me for answers—and I’m damn near positive he doesn’t know a thing about any of this. If he did, Sebastian wouldn’t have been allowed to leave the house, let alone the country—and neither Clay nor Savannah would’ve been permitted to step foot on our property before tonight.

And Sammy? No way am I hanging a cloud of doom over his day, although it appears there’s already one in place.

“Hey, bud, what’s wrong?” I ask him when I reach the porch. He’s sitting with his arms folded over his knees, his tiny head resting on top of them.