Page 13 of Princess of Hawthorne Prep

She stabs a finger in my direction. “And don’t try to change my mind, either, because it won’t work. I’m furious. Do you realize that I sat up all night, worrying?” Unshed tears shine in her blue eyes as she blinks furiously. “I called the hospital a few hours ago just to make sure you hadn’t been involved in an accident.”

That last statement sends another wave of guilt crashing over me. “I’m really sorry, Mom. I made a mistake. It won’t happen again.”

“Better not,” she grumbles before pressing her lips together and swiping at the lone tear that treks down her ashen cheek. “Just go to your room. I don’t want to look at you right now.”

Instead of apologizing yet again, I slink through the house to my bedroom with my tail tucked between my legs. My head still throbs a painful beat, but it’s nowhere near as bad as when I woke up an hour ago.

Once inside the safety of my room, I close the door and sink to the mattress before pulling out my cell. Nerves spring to life as I stare at the dark screen for several minutes, wondering if it’s possible to mend the situation with Austin. After receiving the photographs last night, I imagine he’s furious.

My fingers shake as I type out a simple message.

I’m not sure what else to say.

Can we talk?

It takes at least five minutes to work up the courage to hit the send button.

With air wedged in the middle of my throat, I stare at the tiny screen and wait for a response.

AUSTIN

Alt rock blasts in my ears as I curl fifty-pound weights in each hand and stare out the bedroom window that overlooks the backyard. The leaves have turned bright red, orange, and golden yellow as they drop from the tree and carpet the lush lawn. Steps away from the set of French doors in the kitchen is a heated pool that has been winterized until next spring. Farther back from the sprawling mansion is a patch of woods that separates our property from the perfectly manicured eighteen-hole golf course.

It couldn’t possibly be a more idyllic setting.

In reality, it’s anything but.

Even after my muscles become fatigued and sweat beads my brow, I push myself past both my physical and mental limits. It’s only then that my mind clicks off and I can forget about Delilah and what a shitshow the other night turned into.

A huff of breath escapes from me as I set the weights on the floor and swing around to grab my water bottle. Movement catches the corner of my eye and I find my sister perched on the edge of the mattress, staring at me with a pinched brow.

I rip the headphones from my ears and toss them onto the queen-sized bed. “Jesus Christ, Summer. What the hell are you doing here?”

I straighten to my full height and arch my spine before lifting the water to my mouth and guzzling down a third of it.

Her lips quirk reluctantly at the corners. “Waiting for you to finish pumping iron.”

The fact that her smile doesn’t quite reach her somber eyes tells me everything I need to know about this impromptu visit.

Before she can fire off any questions, I grunt, “I’m fine. You can stop worrying about me, okay?”

She studies me silently as if I’m a bug pinned to a Styrofoam board for a science project. “Are you sure about that?”

Nope.

Not in the least.

But I’d rather slit my own wrists and bleed out in front of her than admit I’ve been played.

Or hurt.

Again.

I mean, really…

How stupid could I be for letting down my guard and trusting Delilah a second time?

I knew better. The voice was there, chirping at the back of my brain, and I refused to listen. Refused to see her for the conniving bitch she is.

---