Page 6 of A Very Addicted Christmas

This was supposed to be a drama-free trip, and this’ll change everything. If hotel security is involved, this will hit the press. If we involve police,this will hit the press.

I’m in one piece.

They’re a neutralized threat.

“Just let them go,” I say to Declan.

He ignores me.

I’m fifteen, but I feel so much older. I can’t leave to my room because my bodyguard hasn’t checked inside yet. And he’s already fucking told me not to go there.

I’m left to wait.

Do nothing.

I swallow a rock in my throat. Part of me aches to scream out all of this amassed frustration, but I stay still and release my grip on my switchblade. I cross my arms.

Waiting.

More of my family’s security arrives, and they talk to the two guys. I whisper to Declan about not wanting to press charges.

“It’s up to your parents,” Declan whispers back.

Fuck.

I don’t want my parents to worry about me. I really don’t want them to know what’s happened either. “Let me tell them,” I say to him. Knowing it’s better if I explain what went on.

He reminds me that if they ask him questions, he has to answer. I’m a minor and all of that. I know.

I know.

But I’m taking control of my own life in any way that I still can, and after he checks my room—no one broke inside—he leaves me alone and stands guard in the hallway.

I sink onto the edge of the bed, and I dial my mom and put the phone to my ear. Chances are, she’s with my dad, so I’ll be able to tell them together.

The line clicks after two rings.

“Moffy!” She sounds happy to hear me, but then she pauses. “Wait, is everything okay? Shouldn’t you be on the slopes?”

“I’m okay. Is Dad with you?”

“Yeah, bud. I'm here.”

My shoulders are still squared. Like I’m preparing for another doomsday. I crack my stiff neck. “So uh, there were these two idiots in the hallway of the hotel—I’m alright,” I say quickly, hearing my mom suck in a breath. “They just tried to scare me.”

“Did they touch you?” my dad asks, voice so sharp-edged it could slice the air.

“No. They weren’t even close.” My knee is bouncing. I need to swim. Christ, I crave to dive into the water and release these pent-up feelings that I can’t even reach.

“You’re okay?” my mom asks again.

“I’m okay.” I shut my eyes.I’m okay.

“I’m flying out there?—”

“No, Mom.” I lick my lips, so cracked now that I taste blood. “I promise I’m alright. By the time you get here, I’ll already be on a flight to the lake house.”

“How old were they?” my dad asks.

---