Aside from Jules and Myra, they’re the only people in my life who have fought for me since I lost my parents. They don’t even know who I truly am, and they treat me the same anyway.
They wrap me in warmth, cradling me from the rest of the world. They want me no matter who I am, no matter if I come from money or not.
They’re selfless and kind, helping a girl who works for them, even when they owe her nothing.
Asher didn’t know who I was when he stopped me in the house that day. He had no clue that I was the same girl he’d devoured in the gazebo. He thought I was just someone who worked for his family, and he was willing to go to war for me.
Dean and Asher are two of the greatest people I’ve ever known, and I never want to lose them. I certainly refuse to let my stepmother take them from me.
I think it might be time I start fighting back for what I want, not cowering down just to survive. I want tolive.
Asher pumps his fist in the air as he skates to the bench—to be evaluated since I think he just lost consciousness on the ice. He salutes his brother across the way in the penalty box, and I’m suddenly very sure of one thing.
They aren’t letting me go to war alone. They’ll fight at my side every step of the way as long as I let them. I’m going to. It’s not a matter of if, but when.
The next week flies by between hockey, classes, and texting our girl almost constantly any free second we have. But Dean’s and my patience is quickly reaching a breaking point, especially if we don’t get to see her soon.
On top of that, our father and Adrianna just announced that they’ll be going on an impromptu vacation, a gift from him to her for their upcoming nuptials.How sweet.
But since they’re going to be out of our hair, Dean and I think it’ll be the perfect time for the annual Kensington party. They’re legendary events that we’ve thrown since our freshman year of high school.
Limited guest list with only a couple hundred of our closest friends, of course. Colored wristbands to identify relationshipavailability from single, uninterested, open to hookups, serious only, unavailable, and so on.
Since we’ve been at HEAU, the parties have become famous on their own. We do one big annual event, but occasionally throw smaller ones from time to time.
We’re not dumb, reckless college students. We’re smart, reckless college students. We hire bartenders, security, and designated drivers to make sure that our guests are always safe and good to leave whenever they’re ready.
We didn’t plan on throwing our big event this early in the year. Not that we haven’t before, but with our father’s bullshit between the engagement, upcoming wedding, and overall attitude, we’ve been avoiding the conversation altogether. But if they’re going to be out of town, it will be the perfect time to host it.
Dean usually instigates the conversation with him. The parties have never been a secret from our father; he’s looped in every step of the way.
My phone pings, and I see a message from Dean that tells me things aren’t smooth-sailing on the party front.
Dean: We’ve got a problem.
Right as I read his message, a new one comes through—a group text from our father, including Dean and me.
Dad: I already spoke with Dean, but I assumed it would be best to address you both so as to not have any confusion or miscommunication.
Dad: There will be no shenanigans while Adrianna and I are gone. No parties. No get-togethers. No law breaking or acting out. Do you understand?
I’m typing, already forming a response as his next message comes through.
Dad: I’m asking you, Asher.
Why the hell not? We do it every year. It’s tradition.
Dad: Some traditions shouldn’t be continued. Don’t you think it’s time you grew out of your party phase?
Where the hell is this coming from? Adrianna? You’ve never had problems with this in the past. Now, all of a sudden, you hate it?
My anger rolls over into my messages tenfold, pent-up emotions fueling the already-scorching fire. I’m making this about more than the stupid party before I even realize it.
Who even are you anymore?
Dad: I’ve let you have your fun and host your little parties. But that’s done now.
Dad: That’s final.
