Page 9 of Corrupt Me

He shifted his feet, rubbing a hand at the back of his neck. “Because he came home last night. I thought maybe you knew.”

I couldn’t lie to him, but I could avoid talking about Tristan. “I went to a party with Sam last night. Look, Preston, I have to go.”

“Are you sure it is wise for you to be alone in that...house?” he inquired, sympathy dropping over his features.

Anger, sadness, regret, and a thousand other feelings flashed through my blood. I hadn’t stayed inside my house alone since the worst night of my life. “I’ll be fine,” I insisted. “I’m a big girl now, Preston. I have to face it sometime.”

“But you don’t have to do it by yourself. You know that, don’t you?” he insisted.

There was no holding back the tears that welled in my eyes. Not now. “I have to do this. Please try and understand.” I didn’twait for him to try to talk me out of it. I spun and darted down the hall.

“Ev!” he called after me, but I slammed the door to my room closed, drowning out his voice.

I swore I could hear Tristan laughing in his room.

Or it was more likely my imagination getting the best of me.

Behind the closed door, the panic clawing at my chest finally won. Tears burst from my eyes in waves, streaming down my cheeks. I flopped face-first onto the bed, the pillow soaking up my sorrow, but I didn’t care. At that moment, I didn’t care about anything. I let the tears take over me, let the pain consume me, and screamed into the down feather pillow.

How the hell was I supposed to break up with my best friend?

When the tears finally dried,I shoved a bag full of clothes I kept at the Malones and another full of my bathroom essentials, cosmetics, and personal items. Perhaps the time on my own would be good for me. Perhaps I’d become too dependent on Preston and his parents.

Tristan at least thought so.

I threw on a pair of pants and slung the two bags over my shoulders before I grabbed my phone and keys off the nightstand. I took one last sweeping glance at the room that had become my safe haven—my sanctuary. The Malones always wanted a little girl, and Anna had been ecstatic when I agreed to stay with them for the summer, mostly because it gave her an excuse to redecorate the guest room and spend her husband’s money. Anna loved to shop. It was her career. Her words, not mine. And she was exceptionally good at it.

She included me in every single decision from paint to fabric colors, regardless of my refusal. I hadn’t wanted them to fuss over me, but fuss Anna and Blaine did. In a way, I knew it was because of what I had gone through. They felt sorry for me, and their pity was the very last thing I wanted.

Heaving an exhale filled with sorrow and disbelief, I walked out the balcony door and down the white wooden steps. I was being a coward, refusing to leave out the front door where I might be seen. I couldn’t face Anna, Blaine, or Preston either, and I definitely didn’t want to risk a run-in with Tristan. Later, when I got home and cleared my head, I’d call or text the Malones. It was near the end of summer. Surely, they would understand.

What they wouldn’t be able to fathom was me breaking up with their son. Anna had practically been planning my wedding to Preston since forever, always showing me magazine photos or mentioning how pretty trailing hydrangeas would be for a beach ceremony. She even had a Pinterest board. It didn’t matter that her son hadn’t proposed or that we were so young. Anna was confident Preston and I would be together.

I was no longer confident of anything.

My feet padded over the sandy driveway, the waves crashing from the ocean beyond the house, a sound that always gave me peace. I tried to take comfort in the ebb and flow of the vastest part of this world, so much bigger than the problems I currently faced.

I tossed my bags into the back seat of my white BMW convertible, a gift on my sixteenth birthday when I thought my life was perfect, the American dream, but even people with money had secrets. I learned the hard way that money wasn’t the answer to everything. It could destroy lives.

It shook the shit out of mine.

The drive next door was short and could have been walked in five minutes. I tried not to think about the numerous bonfires on the beach our families had shared, drinking, laughing, and gazing at the stars. A lifetime ago. And yet, not that long at all.

I put the car in park, killed the engine, and just stared at the three-story dove-gray house with its pristine white shutters. My eyes squeezed shut as I tried to block out all the memories, the screaming, the world-shattering pain, but my heart continued to race, anxiety swallowing me up.

I clenched the steering wheel, my knuckles turning white.

Maybe I should call Sam and have her stay with me for a few days.

But that would require an explanation of why I was here instead of at the Malones’.

“Shit,” I muttered, remembering Tristan had left Sam at Lang’s and I’d been too drunk to object. Fishing my phone out of the cupholder, I sent Sam a quick text asking if she was okay. If she had made it home. Then I added a sorry.

I never should have left the party with Tristan.

The house was wholly silent when I walked in. Empty. Lonely. And full of memories I was desperate to suppress or whiteout as if they never happened at all. The usual housekeeper had been given the summer off while my father was overseas. She only came once a month to keep the dust at bay.

Today was not that day, thank god.

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