Page 8 of Toxic Obsession

It was past five in the evening and Adam was expecting me for dinner. Despite my resentment and anger towards him, living at home allowed me to keep tabs on Brody. As far as I was concerned, I had no choice but to continue living with a man who had done so much to hurt us, even though it became more like a prison each day. On one hand, I wanted to move on and begin a new life, but at the same time I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving Brody alone with Adam. I couldn’t leave my little brother with a monster and keep a clear conscience.

Hopefully, Kane and I would both be drafted and off to the pros next season. By that time, Brody would be eighteen and able to fend for himself. Hell, I’d been training him, and if Adam crossed a line again, I had no doubt that Brody could handle it, but I had to be sure before I left. One loss had fucked me up enough, and I couldn’t do it again.

Life without my twin had left me a shell of the person I’d been. Not even football could fill the hole left from her absence.

Blinking my tears away at the thought of Bell, the drive became a blur, my brain kicking into autopilot while I mentally reviewed the late afternoon practice. We had several new players, and Coach had busted the upperclassmen’s balls the entire time. I wasn’t sure if he hadn’t gotten laid in a while or what, but he was focused on perfection and making our lives hell.

Fifteen minutes later, I drove into the windy driveway of my house. Maybe Adam had to travel for work again and wanted to talk to me before he left. I always made sure I was home with Brody at night when Adam was gone. He traveled often, which left the big-ass mansion to us. I was cool with hanging with my brother, and it gave me time to throw an occasional party and have friends over. On those nights, I sent Brody to his friend’s since he was a minor. Besides, he was in high school, and he had no business trying to hook up with the college girls. Adam had said that as long as there wasn’t any damage to the structure or furnishings, it was all good. Shit, the mansion was big enough to hold a hundred people comfortably. Probably even more, but I hadn’t ever pushed it.

A ball of anxiety landed in the pit of my stomach, making me nauseous. “It’s good, man. Stop being a fucking pussy.” I sucked in a deep breath in an attempt to clear my mind and rid myself of the tension snaking through my shoulders and neck. After all the shit Adam had pulled with me, I occasionally still got sick when I had to spend time with him. Old beatings died hard, I guess.

Pausing long enough to punch in the code to the front door, I let myself in. After securing the locks and resetting the alarm, I leaned against the white pillar in the marble entryway and took off my tennis shoes before strolling into the kitchen to see if Adam was there. Even though I hoped he’d changed his mind about wanting to talk to me, I doubted that I would get that lucky.

“Hey, Lena. Have you seen my father?” I asked our chef and housekeeper. She’d been with us since I was a kid, and at times Lena had been like a mother substitute.

When Adam had bought the house, he remodeled parts of it and built the kitchen the way Lena had asked—state-of-the-art stainless steel appliances, cream-colored granite counters, an island with a sink, and all the space she could dream of. It wasn’t like Adam was that nice of a guy, but when I was younger, Lena had taken us kids off his hands, so I guess that was worth whatever money he could throw at her to keep her around.

I often wondered if she really knew what went down. Adam was an expert at hiding the fact that he beat his sons from the rest of the world. He was a master manipulator when it served him.

“Hi, hon. He’s in his office waiting for you.” She wiped her hands on the navy apron tied around her ample waist.

I tipped my nose up to sniff the air and grinned at her. “What’s for dinner?”

“I made a turkey breast with roasted vegetables, mashed potatoes, and rolls.” She opened the oven a crack and peeked in. “It’s almost done, so go chat with your father, then you can eat if you want. Brody should be here in about thirty minutes.”

“Sweet.” I rubbed my hands together like a kid in a candy store.

Lena’s cooking was mouth-wateringly amazing. She’d spoiled me with her skills. Hell, she’d been so good to me that if I went pro, I was going to buy her a home of her own. She was nearing sixty and I wanted to set her up financially so she could get the hell away from my father. A while ago Lena had admitted to me that Brody and I were the reason she’d stuck around, but I’d be long gone in another year.

I kissed her on the cheek, then ran out of the kitchen and into the marble hallway, sliding the last bit in my socked feet. Adam hated when I did that, so a quick jab behind his back made me feel a little better. “Adam?” I called before I reached his office.

“Come in,” he said, not looking up from his computer. “And shut the door.”

Shit. This was serious.

Quietly, I did as ordered, swallowing over the dryness in my throat. I settled into the brown leather chair in front of his executive desk, scanning the framed images on his floor-to-ceiling built-in bookshelves—a professional family photo and another of Mom laughing and smiling with four-year-old me on one hip and Bell on the other. That picture had been taken before Brody was born, when we were on vacation in Hawaii. Then the pictures stopped a few months after Brody arrived. Bell and I were five. I’ll never forget the moment that the cops knocked on the door. Mom had run to the grocery store while Lena kept an eye on us. She never made it home. Some drunk fucker ran a stop sign and hit her at fifty miles an hour. Adam turned into a different man that day.

I folded my hands in my lap, attempting to appear calm even though the memories made my heart pound so hard against my chest I thought it might make an attempt to leap out and run away without me.

A heavy silence filled the room as I waited for him to finish what he was doing and clue me in on what he wanted. Finally, he shut his laptop and grabbed a file.

“It’s come to my attention that there’s a new student at Whitmore.” He smoothed a hand over his brown hair before he looked at me.

What does this have to do with me?I kept my mouth closed, careful to keep my snarky comment to myself.

“Wynter Baldwin. You might recognize that name.”

I searched my mind and could only think of one person whose last name matched. Hatred burned inside me, and a flood of recollections came to the surface. “Baldwin is common, so what’s your point?”

Adam tapped his fingers against the top of the desk, his expression growing cold and calculating.

The hair on the back of my neck stood on end as I waited to see if he was going to fuck up and lunge at me. My body tensed, ready to defend myself if he crossed that line with me again. I put him in his place every time, but he didn’t seem to understand that his sons were younger and stronger and not putting up with his bullshit anymore.

He rose slowly, his gaze narrowed as he sneered at me.

“That day … she was there. She could have stopped it all. It was her fault.”

Astonished, I blinked several times, trying to clear my head of the words he’d just gutted me with. I stood, closing the gap between us, my earlier anxiety dissipating.

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