My mother is as bad as my father. Useless.
She never used to be so awful. I am the only one with memories of her being a real mother, the type of loving parent she should be to my two younger siblings.
Lance is in secondary school but unfortunately still living at home, so he gets an upfront view of the shitshow between my mother and father.
Francesca Vander, in her prime, was the best of the best. From a line of wealthy lawyers, studying at the best university in the UK and becoming a world class lawyer herself. Her downfall. My father. Or being forced to marry him through an arrangement. Prehistoric if you ask me, but we are British aristocrats after all.
Being tied to my father indefinitely, his inability to do anything without having his hand held and his never-ending list of mistresses; it has eventually drove my mother to the brink of insanity. Prescription drugs, alcohol, and trying to bully my sister into doing everything she says. Most of the time I don’t even think she is aware of her surroundings.
And who is the shmuck left to fix it all again. Me. Asher Vander.
That’s what I have been busy with this week. Cleaning up the vomit, smashed glass and furniture from when my mother has her monthly melt down, usually after an affair surfaces, before it is taken care of by the family publicist.
I chuckle to myself as I take the final drag.
That’s me though. Son of an addict and a dumb manwhore. Yet we all know the parts we have to play in the public eye, and we do it perfectly. That’s what is so hard most of the time. The pretending. No one knowing how it really is.
Ihide it as best as I can from Lance because he is too young, then there’s Piper who has enough on her plate to deal with this on top of everything she is still going through.
That aftermath of that f…
I clench and unclench my jaw to try and relieve the building pressure. Then when it feels like the knot in my chest is more of a tennis ball instead of a bowling ball, I grab my bag and head to my first class.
The second lecture goes by as quickly as the first one, time flies when you aren’t paying any attention I suppose. Before I know it, I am four lectures down and I missed lunch. My stomach is growling as I make my way through the dining hall towards the buffet tables, but my feet slow as I spot a familiar head of hair.
Ruella.
I haven’t forgotten about her, even with everything that has happened over nearly two weeks, she has been at the front of my mind. Her big eyes and soft silky hair that I want to reach out and touch, has become the one thing that manages to calm me when I need a moment. Sometimes instead of grabbing for a cigarette, I can quell the nerves with only her image in my mind. Is it ridiculous, yes. Do I care, no.
My moment of solace at seeing her before me is quickly squashed with the sight of the person next to her.
Max.
Why the fuck is he sitting having dinner with her?
I was only gone for two weeks. Surely things can’t have changed that much. My frustration only grows when her head falls back, and a beautifully free laugh comes from her mouth. I suddenly wish it was me she was having dinner with. Sitting conversing and the free flow of laughter I am so desperately missing from my life. The last time we spoke she was angry at something. Well, someone. Darcy, I guessed after shefollowed her out of the forest with a bitchy smile on her face. I am never usually affected by unshed tears and turmoil on a person. I’m never usually effected by anyone who isn’t a sibling. But Ruella, she affects me. It bothered me to see yet another injury to her beautiful face, the barely held back tears and the things she shouted at me. It confused me, but she ran away before I could ask her about it. Then I was dragged away for family crap and now she’s somehow friends with Max.
My anger grows as she places her hand on his arm, and he smiles back at her with actual love heart eyes.
“That’s enough!” I growl to myself. Then I make the stupid decision to walk right over to their table.
With my hunger now forgotten about, I stand before them and remember to put my nonchalant expression on my face, maybe with a bit of irritation just for Max.
“This looks cosy,” I grit out between a clenched jaw.
Ruella’s focus snaps to me, and instead of the annoyance I was expecting from interrupting. Her shoulders relax slightly, and I watch as she holds back a smile.
Wait. What was that?
It almost seemed like relief. Relief to see me.
Then she scans my face and her perfectly plucked, fluffy brows furrow.
“Are you okay?” She asks and it surprises me. That’s the second time she has asked me if I am okay and again it hits me right in the chest. I’m not okay I realise, I’m drowning. But I can’t say that out loud, so I reply like I always do.
“Yeah, I’m fine,”
She tilts her head and those eyes I can’t forget narrow on me. She doesn’t believe me, and for some reason I lower my guard slightly, I lether silently see some of the exhaustion I am feeling and whatever she sees has her shaking her head at me.
