Page 102 of The Revenge Plan (Forbidden Descendants 1)

Until the world came knocking.

“Henry?”

I squinted my eyes open as the door to my room opened and the overhead light came on.

“Jesus.” Then Rush was leaning over me. “Dude. What the hell? Are you sick?”

A cool, dry hand pressed against my brow. I blinked up at him, not sure how I was seeing him here.

“How’d you get into my room?”

“I got the R.A. to unlock your door. You haven’t left your room in days and you didn’t answer when I called or texted or knocked, not even when I pounded. You scared the shit out of me, man.”

“Well, I’m fine,” I grumbled, waving him away. “Now leave me alone.”

Rush turned momentarily to tell whoever was waiting at the door—probably my betraying R.A.—that everything was okay and no one needed to be called. Then he returned with a chair and settled himself down next to me.

Folding his arms over his chest, he shook his head sadly. “So I guess you’re breaking your word to me already, huh? You said I could spend every holiday from here on out with you and your family. And here the very first one to come along, and you’re already reneging. Thanks a lot, asshole.”

I scowled at him. “What the hell are you talking about? Thanksgiving’s not until—”

“Tomorrow,” he cut in glaring at me. “It’s tomorrow.”

“What?” Frowning, I flung the sheets off me and sat up to blink at my calendar, only…I wasn’t sure what day of the week it was in order to know what day of the month to look at. “Are you sure?” I asked, squinting at Rush.

“Jesus Christ.” He threw his hands in the air. “Yes. It’s tomorrow, and your family’s probably wondering why you haven’t come home already. I know I’ve been wondering.”

“Shit,” I muttered, running a hand through my hair, only to wince because… Damn. When was the last time I’d washed my hair? My palm felt as if it had been greased with an entire tub of lard.

I touched my jaw. And when was the last time I’d shaved?

“I’m up,” I announced. “Just… Let me take a quick shower, and we can—”

He reached out and touched my forearm, shutting me up. The concern in his gaze actually made me feel guilty.

“Band isn’t the same without you,” he said, totally bringing up the one subject I didn’t want him to—er, one of the two subjects I didn’t want him to. “You need to come back.”

I sighed and pushed to my feet, gathering clothes for my shower. “Can we talk about this later? I’m—”

“No.” Rush pushed to his feet as well, and dammit, the bastard was an inch taller than me. I hated how he was able to look down at me like some kind of disappointed father.

“This wallowing has gone on long enough. You just gotta pick yourself up again and—”

“I don’t want to go back to band,” I growled. “He’s in band. I don’t want to be a part of anything he’s involved in.”

“You know what? Fuck him. Don’t let that limp dick asshole control your decisions l

ike this. Don’t let him take away anything you love.”

I glanced at him sourly, tempted to say Reuben had already taken away something I—but, no. I didn’t love her. I just… Jesus. It hurt to even think about her.

Avery.

Even her name in my head caused my heart to shudder and crack. Why should thinking about a simple name hurt?

Muttering under his breath, Rush revised, “Don’t let him take away everything you love. This is the time to come back stronger than ever, to show him you’re not beaten.”

Except I felt beaten. I felt broken. Reuben had succeeded in ruining me.

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