Reckless Hate: A Bully High School Romance (enemies-friends-enemies-lovers-enemies) (Westbrook Blues Book 1) Read online

  “We’ll just have to wait and see.” I don’t mention that I took her phone earlier today and even though I went through it before, I plan on thoroughly going through it and make sure she isn’t in contact with anyone or that she isn’t being tracked by someone else.

  I also want to check if some asshole is in her contacts, creeping around her like a damn starved dog. I’ve kept a careful eye on her while she was in London, as far as I know, she never had a boyfriend. As a matter of fact, she hates being touched. I had to test the waters earlier today and her body. . . Fuck.

  “Isn’t that the gospel truth? With her, you’ll just have to sit duck and wait for her to act.” Emmett says and Noah lets out an angry chuckle.

  “She’s been like that since we were kids, shithead.” Six-year old Star was tenacious but she fucking made a mistake when she started lying to me, thinking I wouldn’t know when she fucking acted out on her own. Accepting stupid gifts from fucking strangers that. . .fuck! I don’t have much proof and I’m not so sure but I fucking suspect that night. . .

  “Yeah, but she is different now.” Emmett says after a pause. “She looks different and she. . .”

  “Feels different. She walks different, she talks different, everything about her is different.” Noah cuts in and I don’t bother saying a word. Until they talk to her face to face, they’ll always have questions as to who she is and I won’t answer that for them. Simply because we have always had different views of her. She has always been different with each of us and for me, it was nothing but cold, icy hatred that linked us together. And after all these years, it feels like she has been haunting me each day, driving me to the brink of insanity until I’m reckless.

  “Let’s see how it all goes then.” Emmett says and then looks up to the dark sky. “George you sly dog, fucking rest in peace.”

  “Yeah, we’ll find the shithead that did this to you.” Noah cuts in, looking up to the sky as well.

  “And we’ll end him. Until they simmer into nothing.” I finish and we all simultaneously puff out rings of smoke to the sky.

  “Rest brother.” Noah says.

  I don’t know how long we stay there, standing over our brother’s resting place in silence, contemplating the long road ahead. But for our brother, for one of the Blue Boys, we would do anything, even in death.

  Star didn’t call me Ace for nothing and this time, I was going to show her just how much of a representation of death I am, starting with the asshole that put George in the ground.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  ASTRAEA

  “YOU WILL NOT BE GOING back to London.”

  Silence.

  The next thing I hear is the loud clamp of the dining chair falling down to the hardwood floor, my mother’s precious floor that she claims came from the Amazon rainforest—and it does smell like deforestation and global warming—but as always she doesn’t care, her ignorance and lack of respect of nature so blatantly obvious so, I don’t care for her loud gasp.

  “Astraea.” She says, appalled as she watches a little splinter of the broken chair fly across the floor. “Look at what you have done!”

  “What do you mean I’m not going back to London?” I demand, looking her dead on, undeterred by her shock for something as mundane as a fucking chair. How can she focus on that when she is spewing such garbage? How can she be so. . .unfeeling?

  “I have no strength this morning to be fighting with you. Your father and I think it’s best that you come back home. You can start, as well as finish up, your senior year here.” She states as calmly as ever.

  “Really? So, you want me to think that you ice cold bitch suddenly feel four years is enough time for your daughter to get her mind strung up right in a psych hospital, but really it was all to calm down the situation here and make sure people forget what happened here four years ago? Right?” I accuse pointing a finger in her direction.

  Like I mentioned before, my darling dearest mother does absolutely nothing without first calculating the possible outcomes and if she wants me back, then there is a reason and it all has something to do with her benefit and not my well-being. Hell, I doubt she knows what well-being means.

  “We are only doing what’s best for you. And besides, it’s what your brother wanted. For you both to be together for senior year.”

  “Yes, but unlike you, George was considerate and understanding. He wouldn’t have decreed that I come back here as if he is some kind of snotty queen who fawns and bends over backwards for money and power.” I grit out as I look at her dead on, thinking back to yesterday and her exchange with Denise King.

  This woman really does get under my skin but I woke up this morning, prepared to be making my journey back to London. I didn’t even bother packing since Amanda Fields had my clothes thrown out just like that, as if the little belongings I had when I came back don’t fit into the perfect and extravagant space that she has created here.

  “You will watch your mouth this instant, I will not have that under my roof.” She says with her cold voice.

  “I don’t even want to be under your so called roof. I want to go back home!”

  “This is your home, and I suggest that you keep your tone in check. I can actually feel a migraine coming.” She says as her long, perfectly manicured fingers begin massaging her temples.

  “So, that’s why you threw away my stuff?” I cock my head to the left, studying her. Watching her.

  “You have an entire wardrobe of new things. Everything a teenager of modern time might need, and honestly, you need to get in touch with the current times.” She says with a careless wave of her hand, gesturing at my choice of wardrobe this morning.

  Current times? Please, I’m comfortable in the space that I have created for myself here and I will not have her or anyone else mess it up for me. Somehow, with the broken pieces of myself, I managed to find parts—albeit small—of myself that I like. My own style, my own music, my own diet. And even though a lot of these said tastes were acquired over a huge unsavory part of my young adulthood, I still own it. Like the tattoos my dearest mother will faint when she knows I have. Right above my ass, because it’s so un-lady like. Bitch please.

  “Oh, and I hope you saw your new school stuff. There are uniforms and school books for you. I have also had the school rule book be put there so you can go over it. The Fields are an exemplary family, we don’t break rules here.”

  “Yes, and we don’t face the truth either, do we? Instead we sweep it under the rug and when things go south, we just send people away.”

  “Astraea.”

  “I’m not staying here. Doesn’t matter what the fuck you say about it too” I calmly state, then turn to go get my backpack so I can leave. There is no way in hell I’m staying in Westbrook, in the very place that took so much away from me—without my consent. I don’t care if Ace took my phone, I’ll find a way to get to the airport. I have money.

  “If you are thinking of using the credit cards that I pay for, then you are sadly out of luck. I had them cancelled yesterday.” My mother says as she sips her cup of coffee as if it’s a normal thing to cut off a person’s life line like that.

  For the first time in what seems like just a mere few years ago, I feel like I’ve been cornered and caged and there isn’t a way out. I have no way to communicate—Ace saw to that. And now, I have no means to get anything done, my dearest mother saw to that yesterday. Meaning. . .

  “You had all this planned right, didn’t you?” I accuse as I look at her, the witch she has turned into.

  “As soon as I arrived, you made sure that anything that connects me to the rest of the world—to my world—is gone and the next step was to what? Wait let me guess, make sure that I stay occupied, having the funeral as early as possible so I don’t ask much of anything. Not about what actually happened to George or what happens next. I’m right, aren’t I?”

  She doesn’t say anything but I see all the confirmation I need in her cold, lifeless eyes that look just like m
ine. I hate that fact about all this.

  “Well played Amanda, well played.” I sarcastically say, rolling my eyes.

  “Why thank you sweetheart. I aim to please.”

  And win. I can read the message loud and clear but if she thinks she has me backed into a corner, then she has no idea how much I learnt to fight those who try to subdue me or violate me in anyway.

  I will fight her, but with my mother, I have to play her at her own game. Be as petty as possible.

  “What about my counseling sessions?” I question, testing the waters to see if she has it all covered. After what I went through, counseling sessions for me are mandatory—well, at least that’s what she thinks. I last went to counseling a year ago and I don’t plan on going to some sessions here. I don’t care to hear some old as shit doctor with their pretentious snobbery attitude, pretend like they know the hell that I’ve been through and what I’m going through now—even four years after that night. After that party. . .

  “Dr. Gabriella was kind enough to release you from her care to one of her recommended friends that is based here.” So, she did talk to my doctor from London, good thing Dr. Gabs and I had an understanding from the time I last met with her. All she does for me is sign my prescription slip. Speaking of which, I need to get that sorted out here.

  “My extra curricular activities?” I need to be away from this house—even if it’s new, I have no desire to stay within its walls.

  She pauses then, and looks at me like I’ve grown a head or two and I snort.

  “Whatever, I will find a way to make due.” I say.

  “You’ll love this place. I’m sure your friends miss you.”

  “Friends that you banned from calling or visiting? What friends?”

  “No need to be so defensive, Astraea. People grow up, you’ll make new friends soon anyway.” She says nonchalantly. Yeah, as if she doesn’t know the type of kids that attend Westbrook Blues High.

  “School starts in three days and you can familiarize yourself with the house and the area by then. You’ll fit in just fine.”

  I give her my best and most polite fuck you smile that I perfected in therapy and then make my way back to my room so I can strategize. The whole time I’m walking, I’m aching and shaking and in need for a fix, but I won’t take them.

  But fuck it, I feel like I’m drowning and I feel hopeless what with the bomb that has just detonated in my life, curtesy of my mother of course. Everything that has happened in the past forty-eight hours is nothing short of a migraine.

  Receiving the news that my brother is gone after having the worst pain I have ever had, I just knew that something had happened to George.

  Then the anxiety of coming back to Westbrook, driving through the gates of hell and then meeting the devil at what was supposed to be my brother’s dignified funeral which was just stupid and an insult to his memory. Everything was just, urgh, so as soon as I reach my room—or living quarters, whatever—I pop one pill and chase it with a smoothie that I came to the room with.

  Ten left.

  I look at the bottle and I wish with everything within me that I didn’t need them to calm me down. I wish I could actually function like I used to, to control my own emotions, to feel and experience everything myself. With my own body chemistry, not with the aid of these damn pills.

  Fuck. I can’t stay here.

  I’m not going down without a fight though. I’m going to go back to London but first thing is first, I have to find Alexander fucking Ace King!

  AFTER TAKING THE PILL, I get under the covers and sleep the rest of the day away, not at all bothering to go down for lunch or for dinner.

  The maids come and knock on my door announcing each meal but I don’t bother responding because I know if I open my mouth, I will say something mean to them when it’s not their fault that I’m here.

  It’s not their fault that I have lost so much from this place.

  Night comes and I discover that I have a balcony in my room. Might as well enjoy the benefits of blood money then. I gather as many blankets and pillows that I can and lay them all on the balcony floor, pushing away the elegant chairs that have been set there, as if whoever placed them there thought I would be having a tea party or something. Assholes.

  If they only knew what I was going to use this place for.

  With that thought in mind, I get back in my room and hunt for my backpack, fishing around for a joint that I came with from London. Thanks to my father’s seedier work and flying private, I never actually had to do any security search and thank God because I was going to need that joint in jail anyway.

  I take it and roll it tighter than it was before then fish around the bag for my lighter. I light the end and then settle over the pillows and blankets, watching the puff of smoke extend into the breezy night. I puff out the goodness, feeling my limbs loosen, the tense energy disappears almost instantly. The weed doesn’t really do ease the pain and I don’t smoke this shit a lot but tonight, I need it. As long as I’m here in Westbrook, I’m going to need as many of these as I can get.

  Yup, still have to look for a dealer.

  I lie on my back and look up at the dark sky and really concentrate. I spot some stars up there, not as bright as I remember though but whatever. A memory I had long since forgotten attacks me and I gasp as the images flash before my eyes.

  I can’t believe George and these stupid boys are doing this again. Camping outside is not cool and it sure isn’t safe. Mom said the mountains are not safe but no, they want to be ‘men’ and prove something. Please, they are nothing but boys.

  “You boys are stupid. It’s too cold out to be camping.” I say as I fold my hands, watching as Noah, Emmett and George organize their sleeping bags around the backyard, taking out their snacks, arranging them around their sleeping areas.

  I think I should scare the shit out of them, remind them that coyotes and bears love sweet stuff.

  “Oh, come on Raea, don’t you know that boys can withstand anything?” Noah says with a huge, excited smile on his face. His smiles have always been contagious but for tonight, I find that charming smile stupid.

  “Let’s see if you will withstand falling sick and then missing football camp.” I say with a smirk, folding my arms. I think I’m getting good at this mean girl thing. Brittney taught me.

  I know just how much all of them love football and I also know for a fact that it’s their dream to attend the exclusive football camp with the reigning champs for this year. I have no idea what team that is, but they always talk about it and the so called last minute touch down that the world apparently didn’t see coming.

  Who has time to talk about football anyway?

  “Oh shit, Raea, you are right!” Noah’s smile falls away as my words sink in.

  “Language, Noah!” Emmett scolds and I giggle. These boys cuss like sailors all the time, it doesn’t bother me—but Emmett hates it when one of them cusses in front of me.

  “It’s true though. She has a point.” Noah cries out, feeling despondent.

  “Come on twin turbo, it’s not that cold and besides we are going to build a fire right here.” George says as he slings an arm over my shoulders, crushing me into his ever growing solid body.

  “Uh, you are frowning to fast, you know.” I say to him and he throws his head back and laughs in delight.

  “Sis, boys grow faster than girls.”

  “But girls mature faster.” I say, poking his stomach with my elbow. “And who is going to start the fire when all the adults are not around?” I ask, raising my eyebrow.

  I guess that's why they wanted to camp out today. All the parents are in the city tonight. It was just supposed to be a sleep-over in George’s room but nope, they just had to be ‘boys’. Idiots.

  “I can start a fire.” Emmett says after a while and I know it’s because he takes his time to say anything. I smile as I look at him, it makes me happy to see that he is taking my advice.

  I read about how taki
ng your time to think over your words really helps speech challenged individuals. Not that my Emmett was challenged anything, other than the dumb plan they have to start a fire without supervision. Meanwhile his scary, stupid and absent father sends him to speech therapists after speech therapists as if they know him or what causes his stammer. Yup, he’s an idiot too.

  I love that word!

  I walk over to Emmett and give him a big hug. I love hugging him, he is just so big, cuddly and warm like a teddy bear. Hugging makes me happy for some reason and I love to be near him all the time.

  “I know you can, Em. But is it safe? What if Noah falls into the flames?” I ask and they all laugh because that is possible. Noah’s jokes can go overboard at times, worse when he is trying to illustrate something.

  “Hey! That’s not fair baby blue. I’m on good behavior today. And besides, I would really like to have s’mores today. George told us all about them.” Noah points out and I laugh.

  “You two have never had s’mores roasted over a real fire?” I ask in disbelief. These rich kids.

  “No and it’s not a laughing matter.” Noah says with a pout. I try my best not to laugh, but I can’t help it. Who lives this long without having s’mores roasted over camp fire? That’s a sad life to have.

  “Then I guess you need this camp out more than you think.”

  “See, I told you. Let’s go grab the wood, dudes.” George says. I watch as Noah bounces up and down, following Emmett and George towards the shed at the back where the wood is kept. I can’t remember the last time we ever had a real fire—I guess it was before we moved here.

  “You hug Emmett all the time?”

  I almost jump at the voice behind me but I force myself to be steady but my erratic heart isn’t listening. I want to turn around so bad but before I can, he stops me.

  “Answer me.”