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“Yes, sir.”
“And where are you from, Mason? You don’t go to Kyngston’s school, which is the most prestigious in New York. And you drive a seven-year-old Jeep, so I’m guessing your parents like to appear well-off but are not particularly rich, correct?”
Wrong, asshole. I don’t go to the same school as your son because I go to the same one my father attended, the same one as my brothers. And I drive a seven-year-old Jeep because it’s Elijah’s old limited-edition Wrangler. I loved it so much that he gave it to me when I passed my driving test, even though Mom and Dad offered to buy me a new one. But I don’t tell Kyngston that because he’s an arrogant douche-knuckle and I honestly don’t give a shit what he thinks about me.
“So where did you and my son meet?”
“At Nero’s pizzeria.”
He runs a hand down his double chin, scrutinizing me in a way that makes my skin crawl, and then he simply sneers.
“When will King be home?” I ask.
“Later. But you will not be here when he returns.” His tone drips with venom. “You will stay away from my son, and if I ever find out you have tried to make him stray from the path again, I will not show any mercy, Mason.” He spits my name from his mouth like it’s a dirty word. “You are an abomination, and Kyngston wants nothing more to do with you. Do I make myself clear?”
I tip my chin. “Maybe he should say that to my face.”
His lip curls. “Maybe I should teach you a lesson about what happens to filthy little sinners who should have been smothered at birth.” He steps around me and locks the door. And somehow, only now does it register how much bigger than me he is. Taller than my dad and built like a WWE wrestler, he radiates menace, and I recall how cruel he was last night to his own son. How roughly he hit him and pushed him to the ground, not caring that King hurt himself when he fell.
My cell is in my pocket. I should call my dad. Or Elijah.
But I’m frozen. My heart hammers in my chest and my mouth goes dry. I can’t speak. I want to say words. I want to punch him in the face, but I suspect that might provoke himfurther, and my instinct to survive kicks in. Right or wrong, it tells me to do whatever the hell he wants and then get the hell out of here.
When Kyngston unbuckles his belt and unzips his pants, I still don’t move. He licks his lips. “On your knees.”
When I still don’t move, he rests a meaty palm on the top of my head and forces me to the floor. “I said, on your fucking knees.”
My knuckles are white.Head throbbing and eyes burning from holding back tears. Bile surges up the back of my throat, and I taste him. Swerving to the side of the road, I pull over and lean my head out the window just in time. Vomit spews from my insides, burning my esophagus.
I need to get home. Then everything will be okay. I’ll tell Mom and Dad what happened, and they won’t care that I let it happen and didn’t try to fight back. They’ll know I had no choice. And they’ll insist on calling the cops or send some of Dad’s security. Either way, Kyngston Worthington is going to regret ever laying a finger on me.
It takes forever to get home. My hands fumble with the key in the lock, and I take a deep breath. I’m here. I’m safe. Kyngston Worthington is going to get what’s coming to him as soon as I tell my family what he did.
I head for the kitchen, the place my mom will surely be. Tears burn behind my eyes. Seventeen years old, and I need a hug from my mom. But she’ll make everything feel better. I can almost smell the scent of her perfume and feel her soft lips on the top of my head.
“Mase?” Maddox’s pained cry stops me in my tracks. I spin on my heel and see tears streaming down his twelve-year-old face. My own pain is forgotten.
He runs straight into me, and I wrap my arms around him. “Mad? What is it, buddy?”
Then Nathan walks out of the den. What’s he doing here? He’s supposed to be at the Hamptons with Drake and their friends, enjoying their last week of summer before going back to college. Nathan comes closer, and it’s only now I see his eyes are filled with tears. My stomach drops through my knees. Nathan never cries. Ever. What the hell is going on?
My older brother wraps an arm around my shoulder and hugs me tight, while Maddox’s head is still buried against my chest. “I’m sorry, Mase. We’ve been trying to get ahold of you all day. I didn’t want you to hear like this.”
Hear what? What the hell is he going on about? Why does he think I’ve heard anything? And then I remember I must look like shit. I’ve been crying the entire drive home.
“Mom wanted to wait to tell us all together, but we were all freaking out, and Dad’s fucking crumbling—” His voice catches on a sob.
My legs tremble. Part of me doesn’t want to know whatever terrible news he’s about to tell me, because then I can go on living in my state of ignorance and believing that the worst thing to happen to me today is what Kyngston Worthington III just did. But the other part of me needs to know why Maddox and Nathan are acting like their worlds have fallen apart. “What’s happened, Nathan?”
He blinks at me. “Mom’s cancer is back. It’s spread too much for them to…” He sucks in a breath.
My knees buckle, but he holds me up and wraps both me and Maddox in his arms. “It’s okay,” Nathan whispers. “We’ll all be okay.”
I cling to him, my fingers trying to find a grip on the back of his T-shirt. Mom is sick. It took so much out of her to beat cancer last time. But we were all certain she’d done it for good.
“Hey.” Elijah’s soothing voice washes over me. “Are you guys okay?”
“Have you told him?” Drake asks.
