Page 19 of Savage Vicious Heir: Part Two

I hang up before he can say anything else and look at my rucksack sitting by Abigail’s desk chair.

As if it’s not pathetic enough that I’m here, I even packed for a few days.

Maybe Dad is right. Maybe I’m not good enough for the life I was born into.

I’m not like him and Scott. I’m not cold and ruthless.

I care.

I care too fucking much.

I always have.

With my heart aching, I pull on a pair of sweats, a t-shirt and then a zip-up hoodie.

Making sure everything is clean and tidy, I leave Abigail’s dorm with my hood up, attempting to hide from the world.

The second I step outside, the sound of the birds singing hits my ears, and the warmth of the spring warms my skin, but it does little to lighten the darkness festering within me.

Keeping my head down in the hope it makes people second-guess attempting to talk to me, I make a beeline for the gym.

Reese is right. This is our time. The four of us have exclusive access every Saturday morning. It’s a tradition that’s gone back through the generations, just like us being allowed to shower first, and alone, after practice.

If any of the other sports teams at All Hallows’ want to come and train, they have to wait.

I can’t lie. It’s pretty sweet. Although, I’m not sure it’s worth it.

I’d happily hand it over to lose the other bullshit and pressure that comes with being an Eaton heir.

Pulling the heavy door open, I march through towards the gym. The sound of heavy footsteps pounding the treadmill fill the air.I find Reese there, his AirPods in, as he runs as if he’s trying to escape the devil, totally oblivious to my arrival.

Letting the door close behind me, I look around for something to greet him with.

An empty water bottle sits on the floor beside the bin, it makes my eye twitch, but it serves a purpose.Picking it up, I launch it across the room.It hits its mark and bounces off the side of Reese’s head.

“Ow, what the fuck?” he barks before he loses his footing and shoots off the end of the belt.

Watching him flail around like a baby giraffe is exactly what I need, and I double over laughing as he battles to right himself.

“You’re a fucking cunt,” he bellows as he finally gets his feet on the floor and pushes to stand.

Twisting his arm around at a funny angle, he stares down at his grazed elbow.

“Aw, poor baby. Have you got a boo-boo?” I tease.

“The fuck, bro?” he barks, finally looking up at me.

I shrug. “Sorry, couldn’t resist.”

“That’s not what I mean. Your face.”

I turn towards the wall of mirrors. “What’s wrong with my face?”

“I’ve never seen you look so…

“So?” I prompt when he can’t find the word.

“Miserable.”

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