“Dad asked me to bring you to the airport.” His voice is calm now. Who but a psychopath can change gears that quickly? “You think I’m going to let him see a ride-share charge on your credit card?” The way he immediately thinks ahead to cover his tracks is sickening.
It’s also something I need to learn. When I told my dad I was going to Palm Beach after all and was hoping he would come, too, I should’ve also said a friend would drive me to the airport. It was stupid to ride with Brad. But I’d honestly assumed he’d be over the rave party altercation by now, since he’d already retaliated by helping Clare get Celine’s bracelet.
I rub my arm, which has grown its own painful heartbeat. That first punch was vicious.
As he drives, the car grows silent, and my mind tries to focus on next steps. The question becomes how am I going to handle things? When I was younger I would shrink off and hide. I avoided being near him.
My reasoning for going to Palm Beach for Thanksgiving was to start to face things head on. Ironic that the very thing that I thought would help me move forward has cast me back into the abuse I silently withstood in childhood.
“What do you want from me, Brad?” My voice is neutral and soft. I seriously want to know what he thinks his end game is.
“I want you gone for good.”
Understanding dawns. Brad’s driven by more than hatred. He’s threatened by the prospect of my exerting my position in the family. There can only be one prince. One heir.
Watching him out of the corner of my eye, I recall the times when he punched a young me in the stomach so hard I worried about internal bleeding. I’d forgotten how dangerous he can be.
“I don’t want to be around you, either.” My voice is surprisingly level. Seemingly emotionless. “Maybe I will just stop coming to family things.”
“You’d have to make excuses to avoid seeing my dad, too. Not just my grandparents. If you do it enough, they’ll get the message that you don’t want to have anything to do with us.”
My not coming to several family functions must’ve given him hope I would do exactly what he’s suggesting. That I would withdraw until the rift made me a distant memory. Remember that charity case we took in? What ever happened to her?
God knows my Allendale grandparents would probably be relieved, too, if I just disappeared.
“I won’t come. I’ll cancel my flight and take a ride-share back.”
“No,” he says bitterly. “He knows you’re too much of a grasping freeloader to let an expensive last-minute ticket go to waste. Especially after you came all the way to the airport. No. It’ll raise too many questions now.”
Glancing at him out of the corner of my eye, I wonder why this concerns him. He wouldn’t care whether I seem like a flake who can’t make up her mind. Dad would be upset at me for wasting money. Unless my dad is suspicious of Brad’s treatment of me and has said something to him about it.
Frowning, I shake my head. “I’m not going to be your punching bag all week. I’ll say I got sick on the ride to the airport and couldn’t fly.”
“No.” Brad’s calm now as he rests back against his seat, one hand on the wheel, white knuckles gone.Good.Let him believe he’s got the upper hand. “Nothing will happen to you during this trip. I swear to God, though, if you try to come to Christmas, you’ll fucking regret it.”
“I won’t.” I’m not sure what I’m saying. While I’m fine with skipping the next holiday, I’m not okay with cutting off contact with my dad. I have to figure out a way to stop Brad from getting near me in the future.
For some reason, getting Ash’s advice springs to mind. Actually, not for no reason. She went to check on her friend who was apparently being hunted by bad people. She called herself a poisonous frog. That may have been false bravado, but I know she’s clever. She might have good ideas for how to deal with this situation. Maybe, I’ll see my dad separately? On the down low? Or secretly video Brad threatening or punching me? Ash could help me get documentation.
The image of Jamie and War jumping in to rescue us during the Tronex party flashes in my mind. I would love to be able to talk to Jamie about Brad.
Fuck no. Forget Jamie.
In response to that order, his handsome face appears in my mind, and a pang of longing surfaces.
Seriously, stop. It’s pathetic.
Signs for Logan Airport flash overhead, bringing on a sense of relief. Once we’re inside, Brad won’t be able to touch me.
Pulling out my phone causes him to stiffen.
“Who are you texting?”
“No one,” I lie, but there’s a surge of satisfaction at the concern laced through his tone.
“It won’t matter if you tell O’Rourke.”
From his tone, it sure sounds like he thinks itwouldmatter. Of course, I’m not going to, but it can’t hurt for him to think Jamie would retaliate on my behalf. Another small protection against violence now that he seems to be thinking rationally again.
