Page 86 of Disorder (Elite of Elmwood 2)

“I was on the phone with Ainsley,” I lied, doing my best to avoid the slightly parted glass door, not wanting to draw her attention to the balcony.

With her chin high, she leaned a shoulder on the doorframe, crossing a foot over the other ankle. “How long are you going to be angry with me?”

I glared. “Forever. What you did… it’s unforgivable.” I wasn’t just talking about ripping me from Easton or having the Lexus impounded. The majority of my disgust was born from the knowledge that she had stolen me.

“Since when is loving and caring for my daughter a crime?” she countered.

Anyone who looked at Angie would see a put-together woman, but I could see that she was lonely and unhappy. The difference was, I didn’t give a fuck. The woman had what she always wanted—the money, the cars, the house, the staff, the husband. Everything Easton could never give her, everything she dreamed about. And yet, she was still miserable.

It didn’t take a shrink to tell me that Angie would be chasing happiness her entire life. She couldn’t love and accept herself, let alone the people that should be important in her life.

My fingers curled around the comforter. “You don’t love me. You love the idea of a daughter,” I hurled at her.

She flinched and took a visible step back like I’d hurt her. “How can you say such a cruel thing?”

I ran a hand through my disheveled pink hair. “Because you forced me to come home when you know I don’t want to be here. You threatened to have Dad charged with harboring a fugitive. I’m his daughter! I’m tired of pretending.”

“Pretend?” she echoed, her voice pitching. “Is that what you’re doing? Pretending to be my daughter?”

“I thought that’s what we were both doing in this house. You pretending to be an important, rich housewife, and me… Actually, I no longer give a shit. The pretending stops. I’m done. You don’t believe me when I tell you what’s happening right under your nose. You don’t seem to care about my safety. You let Ava into this house, the same girl that beat the crap out of me. This feels like a joke. A dream. That’s it. I’m still dreaming and this is some warped alternate reality like I’m stuck in a funhouse, the with all the mirrors.” I was staring at million reflections of my life, all of them wrong.

Her eyes darkened. “You’re being dramatic as usual.”

“And you’re being a bitch as usual.” If Angie was my actual mother and not a liar and a kidnapper, I might have felt bad about calling her a bitch.

Her pretty features contorted into something ugly. “At some time, you’re going to have to accept this family.” She whirled to leave back the way she came.

“Not likely,” I muttered to her back.

Boom. The door slammed closed, the sound echoing through the house. I swore the frame splintered from the force of the impact.

But at least I was alone, no longer in her presence, and I sat in bed, wondering if the rage I felt would ever subside. Would I ever be able to forgive the women who had raised me? Look at her again without being filled with contempt? I had loved her. Loved her still…?

Perhaps that was part of where all the anger stemmed from. A part of me still loved the woman who raised me, no matter how shitty of an effort she put into it.

The mood for the day had been set and only continued to grow gloomier. I missed my friends. I missed the Elite. I missed Brock.

Lightning cracked, flashing the room in a bright glow of yellow before it submerged into gloominess again. The storm reflected my mood. Turbulent. Unpredictable. Angry. Volatile.

In my sweats, I watched the rain pelt against the window, running down the glass in big fat drops. Mist gathered over the panels, and I drew mindless circles in the dew, letting my mind wander. Tomorrow was Monday—my first day back at the Academy—and I was starting to feel the nerves.

It wasn’t Ava or her band of bitches that had me worried, nor all the gossip that would undoubtedly swirl around my return. It was having to see Brock with Ava. Together. I couldn’t stomach the thought. Not after last night. Not after he still refused to end this charade.

Carter’s voice suddenly filled the room. “Contemplating running away again?”

My head whipped in his direction. He wore a smug smirk. Damp, slightly curly sandy hair fell over his forehead, like he’d just come from the shower or had gotten caught in the rain. I never heard my door open, the storm covering up the turning of the knob. I pulled my knees up to my chest, wrapping my arms around them. “What do you want?”

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Just checking in.”

“Like you actually give a fuck about me. If you’re looking for information, you’re shit out of luck. Thanks to yourgirlfriend, I never got the chance to find it or figure out his passcode.” Thunder struck, rumbling the house. I had only a small lamp on in the corner of the room. It flickered as the power cut out and back on.

Half of Carter’s face was shrouded in darkness, the storm snuffing out the sun, but I still caught the gleam of his grin. “She’s Brock's girlfriend now or haven’t you heard?”

If he was looking for a reaction, he got his wish. I couldn’t control my emotions, not when I had just been thinking about the two of them and how much it would hurt seeing Brock with her. “Get the fuck out. I’m not in the mood for your shit.” I returned my gaze to the window, not caring if Carter still stood inside my room. Turning my back to my stepbrother was never a good idea, but I was all out of fucks to give.

“You owe me. One way or the other, I’m going to get what’s coming to me.” He stepped further into my room, a slash of lightning cut across the sky, lighting up the side of Carter’s face. The look on his face…

I shivered. I didn’t think about my actions, only reacted. Grabbing the nearest thing I could reach, I hurled the Bath and Bodyworks candle across the room at Carter. “Get out!” I screamed.

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