Page 2 of Twisted Redemption

“I’m sorry everyone rejected you after your parents went bankrupt.” I squeeze her hand as we walk the perimeter of the lawn. “I was so caught up in my own drama back then. And I honestly thought most of it was because Alex broke up with you.”

“That was a part of it.” She sighs, and I can see the pain on her face.

“Oh, Soph. I’m so sorry. And I’m so sorry Alex broke up with you. He really didn’t have a choice, I promise. Our dad—” I cut myself off. There’s no need to bring that asshole into this conversation. “Alex loved you. Just know that, okay?”

She bites her lip, and I see the doubt in her eyes.

“So you two are back together? Or are you just...” I shrug. But goddamn, if Alex is treating her like a fling, I’m going to strangle him.

“Just what?”

“Uh—I dunno. Alex doesn’t really date anymore. He usually has some girl on his arm to keep Mom from badgering him too much. But I haven’t seen him in a real relationship in years.” Not since you.

“Oh. Well, uh, I’m not really sure what we are. So I guess just a fling or whatever.”

Shit. I meant for that to go differently—with her thinking that she was special because he was paying attention to her. But obviously it hasn’t been the right kind of attention, or she wouldn’t look as disappointed as she does right now.

I make a mental note to give Alex a piece of my mind later.

I take her hand. “I was hoping it was something more with you two. You make him less grumpy.”

She snorts, and we head back to the tables to eat. I skipped breakfast, so I’m starving.

We make our way to the table where the guys are sitting, but Sophia stops dead in her tracks, turning. I follow her gaze, to where Tristan is standing with my mother. But his entire focus is on Sophia. She shivers before turning away.

Ugh. I can’t stand the guy—most of us can’t—but my mom insists on inviting the Goodwins to every event she hosts.

For as long as I can remember, Tristan has hated Alex for no reason other than jealousy. Before our dad died, he praised Alex for everything—even the things he did a shitty job at. But Tristan’s dad? Well, he treated him the way Francis treated me—like the scum of the earth. A complete disappointment.

Their rivalry has always simmered, but it exploded when Sophia broke up with Tristan in high school and almost immediately started dating my brother. I don’t remember a lot about that time. I was barely a freshman, caught up in typical fourteen-year-old-girl drama. But honestly, I barely remember most of that.

My therapist says I blocked it out. I think I just have a bad memory. But either way, I don’t care to remember. The less memories I have of my father, the better.

Sophia takes the seat next to Alex, and he almost instantly has his arm around her. Unfortunately, that only leaves one other seat—the one next to Blaze.

With a thin smile directed at him, I settle down. “Charlie couldn’t make it?”

Blaze’s default grin falters when he looks at me. Or is it at the mention of her? “She needed a break. Eat.”

I look at the plate in front of me, full of little sandwiches, a cookie, and fruit salad with the blueberries picked out. Just the way I like it.

For a moment, my heart warms. Are we back to normal? But when I turn to thank him, I find him watching me with a chilling indifference. “You didn’t have to get me a plate. And you definitely didn’t have to pick out the blueberries.”

“Who said I did?” he says, running a hand over his long blond hair.

Disappointment settles in my stomach, and I force myself to look away. He’s pulled his hair up so it’s out of his face, and I hate how good he looks. Fuck what my mom says about man buns—Blaze wears one well. Maybe too well, if only for the sake of my poor heart.

The food is delicious, as it always is. My mother would never use anyone but the best caterers in town. As I down the sandwiches, I listen as everyone relives our childhoods.

The good memories, I think, looking around the table. Dom, Alex, and Soph are all the same age, with Blaze being a year younger, and me a year younger than him.

The four of them were inseparable as teenagers. While I didn’t hang out with them all the time, the Graysons were still our neighbors. Alex and I escaped to their house whenever our parents were fighting, which was a daily occurrence.

“Oh god, I’ll never forget that one summer when we tried to pull a prank on Brooke whenever we could.” Blaze grins, nudging me with his elbow. He’s back to his usual, playful self—the self he can’t seem to keep up for more than a few seconds when he’s looking at me. “Water guns, cicada exoskeletons in your dollhouse, hiding one of every pair of your shoes. God, we were awful to you.”

I laugh, but my stomach twists. Minutes ago, he was regarding me like I was a soggy pickle on his plate. Now, he’s grinning at me like we’re still perfectly fine best friends.

Which we haven’t been in over a year. Not since I ruined everything.

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