Fallen Heir

  The second half is as high scoring as the first. Saint Lawrence Academy manages to get on the board with two TDs, but Astor Park’s lead is commanding and SLA can’t make up for the huge shit they took on the field before halftime.

  We win. Obviously. And Bran gets the game ball. Coach Lewis tosses it into his new quarterback’s hand, smacks Mathis on the shoulder and says, “You played some damn good football tonight, son.”

  The rest of our teammates, myself included, cheer in agreement. I jog over to Bran and slap his ass. “Dude. That was brilliant. You’ve been holding back on us in practice.” No joke—he threw for over four hundred yards tonight.

  He shrugs modestly. “Hey, I can’t reveal all my secrets right out of the gate.”

  I grin. “A man of mystery. I dig it.”

  Bran chokes out another laugh.

  Dom wanders over to us. “We’re hitting the Worthington place, right? Felicity’s been telling the whole school that’s where the after-party is.”

  I nod. “Yeah, that’s the plan. I need to stop off at home first, though.” I plan on raiding Dad’s liquor cabinet because I don’t trust Felicity to serve the hard stuff. Last time I partied there, it was mostly wine and mixed drinks.

  The guys and I charge into the locker room, and I’m one of the first ones out of the showers.

  “See you on the beach,” I call to Pash and Dom. Then I turn to Bran. “You coming, too?” When he hesitates, I give him a stern look. “Come, man. You’re the star tonight—gotta show up and accept your reward in the form of free booze and hot girls who’re dying to ride your dick.”

  Bran smiles slowly. He really is a decent guy. I’m relieved he not only took the money this morning, but also forgave me for being such a jackass at the pier. “Fine. I’ll make an appearance,” he agrees.

  “You do that, Superstar.” I’m snickering as I leave the locker room.

  At home, I’m not the only one who decided to make a pit stop. The twins beat me there, only they’re not raiding the liquor cabinet like I am. In fact, they’re changing out of their ripped jeans and T-shirts into the sweatpants and wifebeaters they usually wear at home.

  “What are you guys doing?” I ask from Sawyer’s doorway. “Aren’t you coming to the Worthingtons’?”

  “No.” Sebastian sounds reluctant to admit it.

  “Oh. What are doing tonight, then?”

  “Lauren wants to chill here,” he mumbles. “She’s on her way over now.”

  Christ. Of course she does, and of course she is. Honestly, I thought Lauren was pretty cool last year, but that was before she started hanging around for more than just the occasional visit. The more I get to know her, the more I dislike her. She treats my brothers like they’re interchangeable. Like they’re just two little toys designed to amuse her.

  But Seb and Sawyer seem to be okay with that, so I guess I have to be, too.

  I follow my brothers downstairs. We reach the foyer just as the front doors open and Ella, Val, and Hartley appear.

  “Hey, sexy ladies,” I say, whistling at my girls.

  Ella and Val roll their eyes, but Hartley is too busy looking around the grand entrance. Her apprehension is obvious as she examines the twin staircases, endless ceiling, and smooth marble beneath her feet. I use her moment of distraction to examine her.

  She looks cute tonight. She’s wearing jeans with rips on both knees, a dark purple tank top, and an unzipped black hoodie. Her hair is down, and she even put on a bit of makeup—mascara, and shiny lip-gloss that makes her mouth look wet and sexy.

  The best thing on her, though, is my necklace.

  She’s wearing it. Like, actually wearing it. And it looks great around her throat. I want to lay a kiss right at the bump of her collarbone.

  “I forgot my phone,” Ella explains before darting upstairs to her bedroom.

  “And I gotta hit the loo before we pay a visit to the Wicked Bitch of the East Coast,” Val declares and then disappears into the hall.

  I snicker, but the humor dies once Hartley and I are alone. I’m dying to comment on the necklace but am afraid she’ll take it off, so I pretend not to notice. She continues to take in her fancy surroundings, but I don’t get the feeling she’s judging me. If anything, she looks sad.

  “Everything okay?” I ask.

  She nods, but she’s biting her bottom lip, an action I’m starting to associate with her nerves. Then her lips part and she releases a quick, shallow breath. “It’s just…” Her tone grows wistful. “Your house is really beautiful, Easton. All the glass…”

  She’s referring to the enormous windows that make up most of my coastal mansion. “My mom loved the sunshine,” I admit. “She wanted the whole house to be full of natural light.” Except in the end. By then, there was no light in Mom’s life. Only darkness and depression that eventually pushed her over the edge.

  Silence falls over the massive entryway. I hear Ella’s soft murmurs coming from upstairs, and the sound of running water from the hall bathroom.

  “You know what,” Hartley says suddenly. “I think I’m just going to take off.”

  Disappointment shoots through me. “What about the party?”

  She shrugs. “I’m not in the mood.”

  “Aw come on. You can’t bail now.”

  Obviously she’s made up her mind, because she pulls her phone out of her pocket. “I’ll get an Uber.”

  “That sucks,” I complain.

  Her gray eyes slowly meet mine. “I really don’t feel like going to a party tonight, Easton.”

  Something in her tone, that weird chord of sadness, has me dropping the issue. “Okay, fine. Then we’ll stay in.” I grab the phone from her hand and close the Uber app.

  “What are you doing?” she protests.

  “Listen up, Hartley Davidson. We played a ridiculously awesome game tonight and won the hell out of it. I want to celebrate.” I raise one eyebrow. “With my best friend.”

  Hartley laughs out loud. “You’re really milking this best friend crap, aren’t you?”

  “It’s not crap. I like chilling with you. And if you don’t want to go to the party, then we’ll chill here.” Felicity will lose her mind if I bail on our big performance, but she can fake break up with me any time. It doesn’t have to be tonight. “The twins and Lauren are staying home, too. We’ll all hit the game room and shoot some pool, or watch a movie in the media room. Or we can take a swim—the pool’s heated.”

  She shifts awkwardly in her feet. “I don’t know…”

  “It’s not even ten o’clock on a Friday. Live a little.” When she doesn’t answer, I challenge, “Are you working in the morning?”

  “No,” she admits.

  “Good. Then we’re hanging out here tonight. Forget the party.”

  “That sounds like the best idea ever,” comes Ella’s voice.

  She descends the stairs, but Val, who appears in the doorway behind us at the same time, immediately nixes that idea. “No,” she says to Ella. “I told you, we’re making a show of force tonight.”

  “I think you’re totally giving Felicity too much credit,” Ella argues. “She’s harmless.”

  “No, she’s not,” I say grimly. “I have to agree with Val on this, baby sis.”

  Ella glowers at me. “Seriously?”

  “Seriously. She’s already told me a bunch of times that she wants to run the school and how she has no problem taking you down.”

  Ella’s eyes blaze with anger. “She really said that?”

  “Yup.”

  Val pins Ella with a stern look. “See? We need to show the bitch that Ella Harper O’Halloran Royal isn’t afraid of her.”

  “Just Royal will do. And fine, I’ll go. But I still think you guys are making a big deal out of nothing.” Ella glances at me and Hartley. “So you guys are staying here?”

  A tiny thrill shoots up my spine when Hartley responds with a quick nod. Those big gray eyes briefly lock with mine as she says, “I guess we are.??
?

  Chapter 20

  “Movie? Game? Food?” I offer after Val and Ella leave. I turn to the twins. “What are you all up for?”

  The twins shrug and look to Lauren.

  “Game is fine.” She eyes Hartley speculatively. “Unless you guys need alone time.”

  “No, but I’m not good at games,” Hartley answers. “Unless we’re playing Pokémon. I can do that.”

  God, she’s sweet. I chuckle. “I was thinking board game.”

  “A board game?”

  “Yeah, we have a ton of them. My…” I trail off as I remember Mom playing Chutes and Ladders with the twins and me when we were little. We’d sit in the nook in the kitchen. Her dark hair would come alive in the sunlight. I remember getting distracted trying to count all the colors.

  “Your what?”

  I shake it off. Not gonna get sappy tonight. “My mom used to love them. Remember when we played Chutes and Ladders with her?” I ask the twins.

  “When we were five,” Sawyer says.

  I hurry to change the subject. “How about Monopoly?”

  The twins defer to Lauren. Again.

  She smiles. “I’m good with Monopoly.”

  “We’re good with Monopoly,” the twins echo.

  I swallow a sigh of frustration.

  “Great. The games are in the media room.”

  I direct Sawyer and Sebastian to grab us sodas and bags of popcorn. Lauren immediately throws herself on the floor and prepares to be waited on, while Hartley follows me over to the game cabinet.

  “Original and old school,” she comments as I take the white box off the shelf.

  “Of course. I’m a purist.”

  “He’s also a shark,” Sawyer warns as he walks into the room, arms full with food. Behind him, Sebastian’s carrying a tub with a bunch of bottles in it.

  “Didn’t know what you were feeling like tonight, baby,” he says to Lauren, carrying the drinks over to her.

  She haughtily peruses the offerings and then wordlessly points to a diet lemonade. Sebastian plucks it out, twists the top off and then pours the damn drink into a glass before handing it to his girlfriend.

  “What do you want?” I ask Hartley, my tone a little sharp.

  “I can help myself,” she replies, looking a bit amused. “Why don’t you set up the game board?”

  I carry the box over to the twins and Lauren.

  “I’ll be the dog,” Lauren announces.

  I thumb through the remaining pieces. “What do you want to be, Har-Har?”

  “The iron.” She plucks it out of the pile and sets it on the board.

  Sawyer chooses the ship and Sebastian the old shoe.

  I choose the car.

  After the first four rounds, Sawyer and Hartley are dominating.

  “Hey, I’m older than you. Respect your elders,” Hartley teases when Sawyer escapes one of her properties by one space.

  “Sorry, I’m at the whim of the dice and they say I should buy St. James.”

  He hands me the money and I give him the property card.

  “Well, the gods of Chance are telling me to pass go and collect another two hundred.” Hartley waves the card in Sawyer’s face. “And with my newfound riches, I think I’ll buy an apartment so that you have some place to stay the next time you visit.”

  “He’s not staying at your place,” Lauren gripes.

  I roll my eyes at her. “Chill. It’s just a game.”

  “I’m bored,” she says and then gets to her feet. “Let’s go watch a movie in your room.”

  Before I can protest, the twins are following Lauren out the door.

  “Was it something I said?” Hartley asks.

  “No. Lauren’s just…” I pause, not wanting to run down a girl I barely know. “She’s Lauren,” I finish. “Still want to play?”

  “Heck yeah. I’m kicking butt.” She pushes the dice in my direction. “Your turn.”

  I roll and land on Chance. The card I pick from the pile sends me directly to jail. Hartley smirks at my bad luck. She hops around the board, buys another property, and then sits back and watches me flail.

  I roll and get a five, which lands me on the property Hartley just bought. “Damn. Already you’re bleeding me dry.”

  She rubs her hands together like an evil villain. I fork over my payment and watch as she irons her way to the Community Chest.

  My next roll lands me on Tennessee Avenue. “Finally.” I wipe fake sweat off my brow. “I thought I was going to be landless.”

  “It’s still early.”

  “I didn’t take you for the ruthless type.”

  “Watch and learn, pretty boy.”

  She proceeds to prove me wrong. After the next trip around the board, she owns five properties to my one. This game is going to be a massacre.

  “How long are you going to torture me?”

  “Do you have money left?”

  I look down at my meager pile. “Some.”

  “Are you giving up?”

  “Nope.”

  “Mmm-hmmm.” She hands me some cash. “I’m going to buy a house for Indiana Avenue.”

  I pass her the house with a big sigh. “This materialistic side is a new one,” I comment.

  “How so?” She nudges the dice toward me.

  “Dunno. You seemed so nice and easygoing before. You play the violin. That seems really…” I trail off, unsure of the point I was trying to make.

  “Soft?” she supplies. Then she scowls. “Playing an instrument is as hard as playing football. Do you think sitting for hours with a piece of wood stuck between your shoulder and neck is comfortable and easy?”

  “Um, no?”

  “No. Do you know how many times my fingers bled after practicing?” She shoves her pretty hand in my face.

  “A lot?” I guess.

  “That’s right. A lot. And when your fingers hurt, you can’t do anything. Not even button your own shirt.”

  “I’d button your shirt for you,” I say thoughtlessly.

  She throws the house at me. “Easton!”

  I catch the house and set it on her property. “Sorry. It’s an old habit.”

  “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why is it an old habit?”

  “Dunno. Just is,” I mumble. I roll the dice and move my piece. It’s another railroad, but I can’t afford it, so I push the dice over to her.

  “Come on. Tell me.”

  “Why?”

  “Because friends tell each other stuff.”

  I raise both my eyebrows at her. “And you’ve confided so much in me.”

  She shrugs. “You know about my home situation.”

  “Not because you told me anything,” I object. My blood is at a low simmer. “I overheard it.”

  “You still know,” she pushes.

  Irritated, I blurt out, “I do it because that’s my role.”

  I immediately regret my outburst and pretend to study my car like it’s a detailed miniature of the million-dollar Bugatti that Steve owns. I love that damn car.

  “I’m not going to pretend to know what that means, but I do understand what it’s like being the middle child. You can’t measure up to your perfect older siblings and you aren’t the sweet baby anymore.”

  “It’s not like that,” I protest, but the truth of her words strikes me in the gut. Reed and Gideon are extraordinarily focused. They have self-discipline that I lack, and that’s why they’re playing college sports and I won’t. The twins are connected on a deep level that I don’t think even Lauren appreciates. I’ve always been in the middle. Surrounded by my brothers but somehow still alone. The one thing that stood out was how much my mother doted on me, and in retrospect, even that makes me feel uncomfortable.

  “I like being Easton Royal. There’s not a thing in this world that I can’t have,” I declare to show her that I’m not the sad sack she’s trying to paint me as. “I said habit because so many people are in love with me and
I try to pay them back with compliments to make them feel better.”

  “Okay,” she says.

  Her mild tone grates on my nerves more than an argument, but I mash my lips together. Instead, I focus on the game, rolling the dice, and moving my car along the board, but I can’t stop thinking about the past.

  How Mom always told me I was her favorite, her special boy who could always be counted on to be with her when she needed me. Which meant only that I was the person who couldn’t tell her no.

  “Sometimes when you’re the focus of one person’s attention, it can be bad,” I say roughly. “For both you and the other person, so giving a compliment shifts the focus, you know?”

  I feel like I’ve said too much and duck my head. I wait for the inevitable question of what I meant and who I was referring to. Surprisingly, the only sound I hear is the dice hitting the board. She lands on the last railroad, which essentially means I’m screwed.

  “I’m hungry,” I announce. “Let’s get some food and then watch a movie or something.”

  “But we’re not done with the game.”

  “I concede.” I get to my feet. “Food?”

  “Sure.” She takes out her phone.

  “What are you doing?”

  Grinning, she snaps a pic of the game board and my pathetically small money stack. “I’m commemorating this event. I may never beat you at anything again.”

  I latch on to the one word: again. Hartley wants to keep spending time with me. That’s enough to wash away those bad memories.

  I direct her toward the kitchen and gesture for her to sit down. “We probably have some leftover ravioli. Yay or nay?”

  “Yay. I love ravioli. Can I help?”

  “Nope. Sit and entertain me.”

  She slides onto a stool. “How exactly do you want me to entertain you?” When I open my mouth, she holds up her hand in a stop sign. “Forget I said that. You want me to read you the news?”

  “Do you want to drive an ice pick through my forehead?”

  “So that’s a no.”

  I pull the dish out of the refrigerator and read the instructions Sandra taped to the top on how to reheat it. Convection oven, 3 minutes. After I pop it in, I turn and lean against the counter.