Page 9 of Reckless at Westbrook High

“She’s not mine,” I fire back, unable to stop the way my back straightens when he steps closer to me. “I told you I don’t want her. I never wanted her.”

He tips his head back and laughs at me, his dark brown eyes shining with something I barely recognize coming from him.

It’s pride, but it’s not for me.

It’s for her.

It’s always about her.

“That girl is a fucking knockout,” he informs me, damn near groaning at the thought of her, the sick fuck. “Her body, her mouth, her voice, her fire.. why wouldn’t you want her?”

Because I’m fucking gay, you dick.

He doesn’t know that, though, and god fucking help me when he finds out.

“I bought her for you,” he goes on, still coming for me. “Whether you like it or not, she will be yours.”

“That girl’s been sold like a goddamn piece of meat over and over again,” I bite out, bravely pushing myself off the table to level with him. “That ends now.”

“Is that right?”

“She’s a Kingston now, Dad,” I mock him, smirking when he glares. “Damon’s never letting her go, and there’s not a damn thing you can do to stop it.”

I can’t say I wasn’t expecting it, but fuck if his fist doesn’t take me by surprise. He punches me so fast that I fall back into the table, wincing at the pain racking through my skull while I fight to stay standing.

Fucker’s got a mean right hook, I’ll give him that.

“You ungrateful little shit,” he snarls, wrapping his hand around my throat to shove my head back against the wall. “You–”

Anger floods my veins and I snatch his wrist to twist it to the side, spinning on him to shove his ass back in my place. I grab his throat the same way he did mine and squeeze, pinning his eyes in warning.

I’m not a kid anymore, and I’m sure as shit not about to stand here and let him beat my ass for all to see.

Just as I think it, the four guards surrounding us step forward as one, all with their hands on their guns and their eyes on me, but not one of them moves any further, not without his say so.

“Relax, boys,” he laughs, calmly wrapping his hand around my wrist. “He wouldn’t dare. Would you, son?”

My nostrils flare at his condescending tone and I release him with a shove, backing away from him to grab my case from the floor. He doesn’t say anything else, but he doesn’t need to. I already know what he’s thinking.

This is far from over.

Ignoring the eyes following my every move, I walk up the curved staircase and turn right, passing my mother in the hall without bothering to look her way.

“Why do you push him?”

My step falters and I stop where I stand, closing my eyes at the sound of her voice behind me.

“Why do you insist on fighting him at every turn?” she asks, honest to god sounding confused by my actions, the brainless idiot. “Your life would be so much easier if you’d just fall in line and do as you’re told.”

I grind my teeth and turn to look at her over my shoulder, barely even recognizing the woman staring back at me. She’s wearing nothing but her underwear and a silky black robe to match, leaning back against the wall with a glass of red wine in one hand and a couple pills in the other. She’s got long blond hair and bright green eyes, same color as mine, but that’s about all I got from her. She never loved me the way a mother should, she never bothered to protect me from him or my legacy, as he calls it, and she never even tried to form a solid relationship with me. I used to take it personally, wondering what the hell I did wrong for her to hate me so much, but I have a feeling he broke her in long before I came along.

“I guess that’s the difference between me and you, Mom,” I mutter, walking to my room. “I don’t wanna do what’s easy. I wanna do what’s right.”

Or at least I’m trying to.

I won’t deny I’ve done some things I’m not proud of to keep him off my back, but I’ll never submit to him fully.

Not when I have him.

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