Saints: A Reverse Harem Bully Romance (Pawns of Patience Book 2) Page 13

  I have to admit, though, the idea of maybe trying to sneak away for a few days this summer is tempting. I’ve never been to a real beach before, and apparently the family beach house has its own private beach access. Maybe I could even convince Salma to go with me for a few days in between her regular traveling. It could be a really fun girls trip. Assuming Pearl is healthy enough for me to feel comfortable leaving her.

  Which, I’m not so sure about. She never wants to talk about her health, even though I’ve tried to broach the subject multiple times since she told me about the brain tumor.

  “Hey is that your door?” Salma asks. “I think someone’s knocking.” I’m about to laugh at her joke, when I realize it isn’t one. I hold my breath for a second, straining to hear whatever she heard. There is a faint knocking sound coming from somewhere. It’s not something I would have noticed if she hadn’t pointed it out.

  “What do you have super hearing or something?” I gape at her.

  She nods gravely. “You pick up a keen sense of hearing when you live in a boarding school. Otherwise, how will you ever sneak out without getting caught?” She puts a hand on my shoulder. “And Juliet, trust me, in a place like that everyone wants to sneak out.” She shudders hard, and it makes me wonder what she’s remembering. It seems like something more than regular boredom she was running from.

  I don’t ask about that now, though. Not when I realize she’s right, someone’s definitely knocking hard on the door downstairs. Hard enough that we can hear it from three floors up.

  Salma follows me down downstairs, both of us looking around every corner for Pearl, who I know is around here somewhere. She must not hear the knocking, because usually she likes to be the one to answer the door. She thinks my manners are lacking. Personally, I think my manners are just fine, but I don’t mind the fact that I’m not usually responsible for guests, so I don’t fight her on it.

  The person is still knocking when we reach the front door. I unlock the door and pull it open, nearly getting a face full of Sadie’s fist on accident. “I’m so sorry.” Her eyes go wide as she jerks her hand back. “No one was answering.”

  This is the first time Sadie’s come here since the birthday party. We haven’t even been talking at school really, so it’s weird to see her now at my front door. “We were upstairs.” I definitely don’t mention what we were doing up there. Sadie glances past me to where Salma is standing. Her face falls a little bit, and it’s obvious she didn’t realize Salma was here despite the bright yellow car sitting in the driveway. Seriously, no one else at school drives a car like that.

  “I can come back another time?” Sadie says hesitantly as she keeps glancing from me to Salma. I’m not going to ask Salma to leave just because Sadie has finally decided to grace me with her presence again. But she does look like she could really use a friend at the moment, considering her puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks.

  “No, it’s okay. Come on in,” I tell her. Glancing at Salma, I ask her, “Could you just give us a few minutes maybe? You can raid my closet again if you want.” Her eyes light up. We’re built just enough alike that we’re able to swap clothes, which has turned into Salma’s new favorite pastime. I’m definitely sacrificing some clothes by letting her go up to the closet unsupervised, but it’s not like that stuff isn’t replaceable thanks to Pearl and the new bank account she set up for me that I’m too afraid to actually touch.

  Sadie steps tentatively inside with a deep breath, and I know this has to be hard for her. I lead her into the sitting room, figuring we could sit down, but she stops me. “Juliet, I’m sorry.”

  She breaks into full body sobs, convulsing as she struggles to catch her breath. The only thing I can think to do for her in the moment is hug her. I wrap my arms around her tightly and hold her while she cries it out. I’m not sure what she’s saying sorry for, but I figure we’ll get to it eventually. It’s been hard seeing Sadie basically abandon me, but seeing her inconsolable like this is a million times harder. I want to fix it, but I don’t know what needs to be fixed.

  We stand like that for several minutes until Sadie’s sobs finally start to subside. I don’t let go until she feels sufficiently calmed down, but when that happens I step back and give her some space. She takes a big, deep, shuddering breath.

  She opens her mouth, and in a loud, wailing voice, manages to tell me, “I think Cece killed Kathryn.”

  “What?” I feel like she just knocked all the air out of me. “What?” I have to say again, because I know that I had to have misheard her. She swallows hard as she blinks back what looks to be a fresh wave of tears threatening to spill over. Sadie nods solemnly.

  “I think she did it.” She lets her head fall back and she stares up at the ceiling as she talks, as if she can’t stand to make eye contact as she says the words. “Juliet, she won’t talk about Kathryn at all. It’s like she’s just wiped her from memory. It’s not normal.”

  “Maybe that’s just her way of grieving.” I don’t add my other theory, that maybe she’s on something. I don’t want Sadie to think I’m being judgmental, but the version I saw of Cece when she flipped out on my after Valentine’s Day was not normal. If she was on drugs or something, it would explain a lot. And it’s not like it would be much of a surprise around here, considering it seems like every other person I meet has a drinking problem or a penchant for popping pills.

  Sadie gets a lost look on her face that makes my heart ache for her. “She did it. It had to be her.” But she doesn’t sound so convinced now.

  “It might still have been an accident, remember?” I’m hoping that will reassure her somehow, but it only makes her look more devastated. She shakes her head, biting her lip so hard I’m surprised it doesn’t draw blood.

  “No.” She tucks her faded purple hair behind her ears. “The whole story just hit the news. They found evidence, they don’t think it was an accident anymore.”

  I stare at her silently as I try to digest what she’s saying. This is a big leap from maybe it wasn’t an accident to it definitely wasn’t an accident. And the story’s on the news. I never thought that would happen with Governor Woods’ hands all over the case. Maybe there are some things even the governor can’t make disappear from the news cycle. I’m assuming it’s a lot easier to bury a story about an accident than it is to bury a story about a murder.

  I also can’t help but think back to Patrick’s suspicions about Celia Harrington. He’s the only one so far I’ve heard with a viable theory, but it still definitely doesn’t feel like something I should tell Sadie about.

  If Sadie is this freaked out thinking Cece did it, I can only imagine what kind of reaction she would have if she knew Patrick thinks her mom’s the one that did it.

  “Come here.” I pull her back into another hug. Right now, while she’s hurting, I don’t care that things have been weird between us for months. She needs a friend, and I haven’t forgotten the way she looked out for me when I first got here. It’s my chance to return the favor. We stay like that for so long that Salma comes peeking in the room.

  “Hey, I’m gonna head out, okay? Call me later,” she smiles, so I know she’s not offended. I’m also sure she’s gonna grill me later about what happened. She waves and disappears, the front door closing behind her a few seconds later.

  Sadie takes a few steps away, towards the windows that look out at the front of the house. I step into place beside her, watching as Salma dances her way to her car. That girl is wild. I’m a little surprised to see that Sadie actually cracks a smile. When she turns back to me, her smile falls. “The two of you have become pretty good friends, huh?”

  “Yeah,” I answer carefully.

  “I didn’t mean to—” Sadie cuts herself off, fussing with her hair again. “I didn’t mean to do this to our friendship. I wanted to be the one that managed to finally break the Lexington-Harrington family feud with you. But now I guess you and Smith did that without me.” She doesn’t look at me as she says it. She’s sh
owing a lot of humility right now, and it makes me feel bad about letting her push me away after Kathryn’s death.

  She’s not drunk right now, doesn’t smell like booze at all, but I can’t deny the role her drinking has had in the troubles we’ve had this semester. She knew I wasn’t okay with it, and she distanced herself anyway.

  “I still want that, Sadie.” This girl literally gave me a pair of her shoes the first night we met. I’m not trying to wash my hands of her. “But I’ve lived with addicts once. I don’t want that life again.”

  She looks like she might start crying again, but she manages to hold it off. “I’m gonna get help, Juliet. I swear.” My heart swells to hear her say it. I really thought she might deny having a problem, considering her last trip to rehab didn’t do her any good. But this doesn’t sound like denial at all. It sounds like someone who really needs and wants the help.

  “Good.” I don’t want to dwell on it anymore than that. I have to believe that she’ll follow through. But for right now, the best thing for both of us I think would be to focus on something else. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. What do you think about going to dinner?”

  She nods, looking so relieved that I can’t help but to feel it, too. Maybe our friendship doesn’t have to be over. Maybe there’s still something here left to salvage.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Everyone leaves for Spring Break except for me. Salma, Smith and Sadie, and even Patrick all try to convince me to play tagalong on their vacation plans, but I can’t go. Pearl isn’t doing great. She won’t admit that, I wouldn’t expect her to, considering what little I do actually know about her. But she’s moving around a lot less and a lot slower than she used to. It’s funny how easy it was for us to avoid each other in that big house when we wanted to, but now that I’m worried about her it seems like we’re constantly stumbling into each other’s paths. I’m glad, because otherwise I’m not sure I would have even the slightest clue how she’s doing.

  There’s another thing, too. Mr. Harrington is supposed to find out about my emancipation petition on Thursday. Apparently, it’s not even a real hearing. He’s playing golf with the judge and the whole issue is being discussed there. He was so pleased when he told us, but I can’t stop wondering if that’s legal—or ethical.

  Regardless of my feelings, that’s what’s happening. I’m too nervous to stray far while we wait to hear what’s going to happen next, so I buckle down for a boring week at home. Things don’t stay boring for long, though.

  On Monday morning,, the air is surprisingly warm for New England in the spring. I decide to take advantage of it. I put on sneakers that I’ve only worn once since Pearl bought them for me, and I pull on leggings and a t-shirt with the intention of finally actually getting some exercise in my exercise clothes. Normally I just wear them because they’re comfy. I tell Pearl where I’m headed—down our court and up the next block towards the span of shops around the corner from us—because that’s a thing I’m apparently doing now. Checking in.

  Pausing in the front yard to stretch, I almost think I’m imagining things when I hear yelling start. A woman’s voice. At first, my head automatically goes to the empty house next door, but it’s as closed up as always. I slowly swivel to look at the Harrington place instead.

  After a second, it’s obvious it’s Celia yelling, which is baffling since Smith told me his mom was going to be alone most of the week while his dad worked overtime. The two of them are apparently really good at avoiding spending time alone together.

  I take a few tentative steps closer, wrapping my hand around my phone in my pocket in case I need it. The sound of her screaming is pretty freaky, even though it sounds more like angry screaming than help me, I’m being murdered screaming. I creep close enough to see the front door partially ajar, which is about the same time I realize that there’s a car in the driveway that looks vaguely familiar.

  “Let go, Celia!” That time it’s a man’s voice yelling. I know that voice, too. I stop creeping closer, my back straightening automatically as I try to make sense of this new development. A few seconds later, he steps out the front door, slamming it closed behind him.

  Ace.

  “What are you doing here?” we both ask at the exact same time.

  I eye him warily. “You first.” I can still hear Celia screaming, though it’s at least an octave quieter now that Ace is outside instead of inside. The door being closed probably helps, too. He doesn’t even react to the sound, as if he’s immune to it.

  “It’s a really long story.” He rubs his arm, which draws my eye and makes me gasp. There’s a pretty serious gash in his bicep. It looks deep, but there’s dried blood around the wound and he doesn’t appear to be bleeding anymore. Still, it’s fresh enough that the wound is still wide open and he probably ought to have a bandage on it.

  Setting aside for a moment that I’ve still never managed to get past what Ace did to me after last year’s boat party, I hurry over to him to take a closer look. “This needs to be looked at,” I tell him, twisting his arm carefully in each direction as I study the wound. The edges are jagged. “Did you get… stabbed?” It’s really hard to picture someone stabbing this big block of a guy. Definitely not a typical target considering he looks like he could squash most other guys I know without even breaking a sweat.

  “Could you, uh, maybe not tell anyone you saw me here?” he asks, completely ignoring my concern about his arm. Now the whole thing seems twice as suspicious, but at least it sounds like Celia has finally stopped screaming inside.

  I understand why about fifteen seconds later when she slams open the front door and then stops short when she sees me. Her eyes flash to where I’m still touching Ace’s arm. I expect her to look concerned or something, but instead I see something that gives me quite the surprise. She’s jealous. Really fucking jealous. My stomach turns as I start to draw some conclusions of my own about what’s maybe happening here. I drop Ace’s arm, ready to excuse myself and stay way the hell away from this one, but Ace takes a step closer to me. Despite the fact that he doesn’t say a word, I get the sense he doesn’t want me to bail just yet.

  There’s an ache in my chest, because the one time I needed him he let me down, but I don’t want to be him. I want to be better than him. So, I put a smile on my face and greet Celia as if I didn’t hear her screaming like a banshee only a minute earlier.

  “Juliet,” she smooths her hair, “I wasn’t expecting to see you here. The twins are away for the week with their aunt, I’m afraid.” She plasters a fake smile of her own on, but it still doesn’t quiet hide the green-eyed monster peeking out from behind the facade. This is not normal jealousy; this is next level, crazy eyes jealousy.

  “Oh, yeah I know. I saw Ace’s car and figured maybe he didn’t know, so I was trying to catch him before he bothered you.” God, this place has made me so good at lying through my teeth. “Anyway, I think we’re gonna go for ice cream. It was nice seeing you.” I wave and then weave my arm around Ace’s uninjured one to start leading him towards his car. “Can you drive?” I ask him quietly, eyeing his bad arm again.

  “Yeah.” He winces as we hear the front door slam again, even harder this time than the first time. Celia Harrington is one unhappy lady. Even more so than usual. “Thanks for the save, sorry I interrupted,” he pauses to glance down at my outfit, “whatever it is you were doing.”

  “That’s cute, did you think I was going back to what I was doing before I interrupted whatever that was?” He gets a gloomy look as he realizes that’s definitely not what I’m planning to do. “I’m pretty sure you owe me ice cream now.” I glance back at the Harrington’s house as I add, “And one hell of a story, apparently.”

  Ace pauses by his car and leans on the trunk, turning his head to look off into the distance. He looks like he could be carrying the weight of the whole world on his shoulders right now. I actually feel bad for him, in spite of everything.

  Finally, he nods slowly. “I
’d say I’m long overdue on giving you an explanation.”

  “Oh. We don’t have to talk about that.” I’d really rather not think about it, especially not if I’m about to chance getting into the car with him again. At least I’m not drunk this time. “I meant more along the lines of you telling me what was just going on with you and Celia.”

  “Yeah.” Another nod. “I think you’re going to see that those two stories are not mutually exclusive.” Well, if I was confused before, I’m even more bewildered now. What on earth could Celia screaming at him have to do with him violating my privacy?

  There’s no turning back now, I want whatever answers he seems so resigned to giving me. I walk to the passenger side door, which isn’t locked, and climb in without waiting for him. It takes another minute before he gets in. It’s almost comical watching him climb into the fancy designer car. It’s one that I would would consider oversized if anyone else was driving it. It’s roomy for me, but Ace has to slouch to avoid hitting his head against the roof of the car.

  He doesn’t waste any time diving right in. “I slept with Celia Harrington,” he basically blurts out the second we’re out of her driveway. My chin drops down to my chest as I look up at him like he’s lost his goddamned mind—because obviously he has. He backtracks almost instantly, “Not just now. I wasn’t there to sleep with her today.” He turns his head to look at me for a moment, and it feels like he’s trying to judge whether I believe him or not.

  He doesn’t deserve to have me give him the benefit of the doubt, but I decide to give it to him anyway. I can’t imagine he would admit to sleeping with the woman only to lie about when it happened.

  “Uhm, it’s okay if you don’t want to talk to me about this, actually,” I tell him tentatively. I’m not really sure that I want to know. How will I look at Sadie or Smith again knowing Asher Van Doren, arguably the most elusive of Patience’s most wealthy residents, fucked their mother? It’s so cringe worthy and gross. Not to mention the whole issue where Celia is definitely not sober and probably hasn’t been for years. Oh, and also, add to the gross factor that Ace is still underage for another few months since he doesn’t turn eighteen until this summer.