Who was this guy? A photographer? A filmmaker? Some guy who still lived off his trust fund, never quite grasping he wasn’t in his twenties anymore? Those were the only people who dressed like that in our world at that age.
“Only a few days, until my visa for Syria comes through.”
Mrs. du Lac clicked her tongue. “Is MSF really sending you to a war zone?”
MSF…Médecins Sans Frontières aka Doctors Without Borders.
Doctor.
I gave him another once-over. He definitely came from old money.
“But you’ll be here for the Labor Day party?”
“I’ll do my best. Is Charlie around?”
Beside me, Charlie bristled.
“She’s upstairs with her new husband.”
His eyes traveled up the stairs, landing on us. Mrs. du Lac followed, eyebrows lifting a little.
“Oh, you’re down early,” Mrs. du Lac said, then she gestured to the man beside her. “Isn’t this a nice surprise?”
A stiff silence passed, one I couldn’t decipher.
Mrs. du Lac blinked. “Say hello, Charlotte.”
I’d heard that tone used many times with my sister, Abigail. It really meant, What the fuck is wrong with you?
“Hi, Jack,” Lottie said without emotion.
Once again I looked between them as another pause weighed the air.
“Why don’t we take this into the next room?” Mrs. du Lac said. “Lottie and Gray, you’re welcome to join us.”
Aka, you must join us.
Then Jack, apparently, followed Mrs. du Lac into the next room. Lottie followed them with her eyes, staying still.
“Who is that guy?” I asked.
“No one,” she said, her eyes on the empty doorway they’d just gone through. With a stiff exhale, she descended the steps. Beyond her, West and Story walked by the window.
They were laughing.
Fucking laughing.
Lottie reached the bottom, looking up at me expectantly. I took a step, then froze. West licked his thumb, swiping it across Story’s cheek. I could hear only buzzing in my ears. Feel the tightness in my chest.
I flexed my knuckles.
He’s too fucking close.
“Gray?”
“I’ll follow,” I gritted.
A look flitted across Lottie’s face, but she said nothing.
STORY
After West had given me a tour of Du Lac Manor, I realized the similarities between it and Crowne Hall were as stark as their differences. Each was haunted in its own way.
He opened the door for me and said, “After you, Cinderella.”
I tried not to laugh, but failed. I wanted to hate him, but he wasn’t easy to hate. He was charming and he was funny. He told me anecdotes about Du Lac Manor, places his uncles and great-cousins had christened with their stupidity. Like the time his great-uncle John tried to piss the farthest and was arrested for indecency, so they had to buy the acreage.
“Did you have a good time?”
Grayson’s voice stopped me in my tracks. He stood at the foot of the stairs, sunlight and shadow accentuating a glower hotter than fire.
“Um…” I trailed off.
“Lottie has been looking for her girl,” he said, soft and dark.
Oh.
Shit.
I quickly moved to go attend to Lottie, but West gripped my elbow, holding me in place.
“My sister can go without her girl for an hour,” West said, laughter in his voice. “She’s not entirely helpless.”
“Three,” Grayson said, his voice cold. “It’s been three.”
“Oh, well, that changes things,” West said, laughing harder.
Grayson zeroed on me. “You’re only here because we allow it. Try and make some effort.”
Fury and betrayal made a noxious soup in my gut. Each inhale felt like breathing in knives. Yes, he allowed me to stay, but it isn’t the greatest benevolence to sleep on the floor to avoid an ashy bed. To be forced to fly to fucking Asheville when I wanted to stay with my uncle, the only reason I’m doing this.
“Thank you for allowing me to stay. It’s so important I get to stay near my uncle. After all, every minute counts.” His brow crinkled, and I swear recognition flickered in his blue gaze.
But I didn’t care.
“I should go to Mrs. Grayson Crowne.”
I shucked off West and walked by Grayson, leaving them both behind. I swiped at my face, trying to wipe off the heat. For a minute, I’d laughed with West and forgotten my life. Forgotten the darkness.
I heard the footsteps moments later, pounding on the hardwood.
“Hey!” Grayson called after me. I walked faster. “Story, wait! Story!” He spun me around. “I’m sorry. I got…” He tangled his hands in his hair. Absently, I noticed it looked wilder. I hated that I wanted to know what had been on his mind.
“I worry about you,” he finished.
Unwanted hope sprang in my chest.
Maybe he still wanted me. Maybe the weight on his shoulders was me.
“It’s not your job to worry about me, Mr. Crowne.”
He looked like I’d slapped him. Then an icy cold fell across his features. “Why were you with him?”
Why do you care?
Why do you fucking care?
I still had no clue why he’d ever broken us in the first place. But I did know the only reason he’d given me that moment on his wedding was because of his wife.
I was starting to think I got us all wrong. He was just like West, a rich boy who believed he was entitled to my love.
I took a breath, then said with an even voice, “What I do is of no concern to you, Mr. Crowne.” I turned, not waiting for a reply.
“He raped you!” His yell slammed against my back, echoing off the walls and freezing me in place.
The proclamation seemed to silence everything, even the birds outside, until only dust remained. Lingering in the air and catching the stripe of sunlight piercing the shadowy hall like stardust.
That little shred of hope I had that wouldn’t fucking die—ripped out. I don’t know how he learned…but I know now why he won’t let me go. The why—it’s always the same with these boys.
I straightened my shoulders, slowly turning. “Thank you for letting me know, Mr. Crowne. I wouldn’t have figured it out otherwise.”
“Story, wait.” He grabbed my bicep. “Just fucking wait.”
“Why? Why do I need to wait for you?” My voice started to shake. “You left me. The only reason you’re paying attention is because you learned another guy dirtied your merchandise.”
“That’s not—” He exhaled and dropped me. “You don’t think that. You don’t believe that about me.”
I didn’t know what I believed anymore.
“Why do you keep hanging around him?”
“Why do you care?” I yelled.
“You know why.” His voice lowered to a growl that vibrated and throbbed in my chest.
“Don’t,” I whispered. I tried to step back, but his grip tightened, holding me in place.
This wasn’t okay.
He was supposed to leave me alone. Leave me to hate him.
“You chose to come here,” he said, voice fast and furious. “You could have stayed in Crowne Hall with your uncle. You chose.”