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Chapter Thirty-Four
Ace
Shit. I’ve well and truly fucked up.
I run my hand through my hair and pace my hotel room, half tempted to actually tear my hair out with how frustrated I’m feeling. At times like this, when I’m this stressed, I’d normally bake. But somehow I don’t think that would go down too well with the kitchen staff here.
I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I was more than happy to take Raven’s secret, and my betrayal of my brothers, to the grave with me. But somehow in the heat of the moment, in all that chaos, it erupted out of me and I had no control or power to stop it. The second the words slipped past my lips, I knew I’d made the most terrible mistake of my life.
And now I’ve ruined everything. I glance at my startlingly silent phone. None of my brothers are speaking to me, even though I’ve tried calling them all and sent several texts. Raven isn’t responding to any of my messages. I don’t know where the others are, although I wonder what they’re doing, how they’re reacting and coping with the news.
I have no idea how to put things right.
Since leaving and returning to the hotel I’ve been tempted to go back and try to explain. I’m torn between wanting to respect Raven’s wishes, and needing to put things right with her. I don’t know what to do, so I’m just...pacing...at a loss.
I’m actually so preoccupied by my own guilt, that it takes quite a while for Raven’s bombshell to truly sink in...Baxter isn’t Phoenix’s father. He never was.
One of us is.
Excitement courses through me. I could be Phoenix’s father...Her actual biological dad. The thought makes my heart race, but in a good way. Images of ‘what if’ flitter through my mind, sparkling with the promise of possibility.
Although, even if it turns out that I’m not the dad, I would be a father to Phoenix anyway if Raven and I could be together. That would be a dream come true; to make a family with them.
But I’d really really like it if I were her dad.
Charlotte’s Diary
Present Day
I’m fucking fuming! I always knew Charlie was an absolute asshat but tonight he really sank to new depths. I can’t even say it started out okay. Charlie was being a dick from the moment the date was arranged. I didn’t even want to go on the stupid date, but he insisted. He gets funny about things like that from time to time. I can usually put him off and dodge him, but he wasn’t taking no for an answer on this one. He insisted, knowing that I don’t drive and that I live off campus, that I return to campus so that we could go to the restaurant together. It would have been a lot less hassle if I had just met him there, but he wasn’t having it. He wouldn’t even come and pick me up - even though he has that insanely expensive, flashy car. A dick extension, my dad would have called it. So I traipse back to campus in the dark and he tells me that we’re walking to the restaurant too! He gives me some shitty excuse about his car just being cleaned, but I swear that had better be a lie because otherwise how crappy is that? I’m too...what, dirty to go in his precious clean car? At the restaurant he had me grinding my teeth together. He wouldn’t let me order the drink I wanted - getting wine and water instead - and he ordered for me! A fucking salad! I almost wouldn’t have minded, but for the fact that he ordered himself a steak. A goddamn juicy ribeye steak that made my mouth water the moment it was brought out. He didn’t even offer me a bite. And my salad didn’t come with any protein. I think it was a side salad. I was so hungry. Walking home, he threw his arm around my neck - which he knows I hate! - and was constantly checking his phone. Probably some girl. We walked back to his place, which again, is out of my way, but better than him seeing where I live, I guess, and he laid on the pressure for me to go up for a drink. I tried to say no, but couldn’t get out of it. So up we went. He basically turned into a horny octopus-cum-bloodhound in the lift, slobbering all over me with slippery hands going everywhere. Gross! It didn’t get much better in his flat either, and when he tore the strap off my dress and forced his hand roughly between my legs, I had to call timeout. He didn’t listen and it was only the swift kick to the balls that allowed me to flee. I then had to walk home, in the dark, heels in my hand, in a broken dress...in the bloody rain! You couldn’t make this shit up. Then later that night, a couple of the girls off my course posted on their social media that he was out in several clubs, getting it on with several women. Nice. I don’t even care. I just want to disappear because I know if I try to end it with him, he’ll just make a scene.
