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Birdie crosses her arms and studies me, and I don’t like it. She’s up to no good, and I don’t know why the fuck I even came here.
“So take her to the police station,” she says. “Turn her in. That’s what you want, right?”
I scrape my palm over my face and turn away, too fucked up to admit I can’t do that either. After a minute of silence, Birdie hits me with an observation that proves I haven’t fooled her for a second.
“She wasn’t just Adam’s girlfriend, was she?”
“No.” I give her a strangled response.
“You were in love with her.”
I wheel around and glare at her, but before I can argue, she comes at me with more of her ludicrous observations.
“You wouldn’t hate her this much if you weren’t. Something happened between you.”
“She was Adam’s,” I deflect.
Birdie knows when she’s getting a line of bullshit from me. There’s so much even the media doesn’t know. And yet, somehow, it’s managed to overshadow her relationship with Adam. Before the pills and the booze and the fame, she was my addiction. But I’m not about to admit any of that right now. If Birdie has even an inkling that she’s right, she’ll be hell-bent on causing more trouble.
“It’s okay,” she says softly. “I won’t tell anyone. Not even Ace.”
“There’s nothing to tell,” I clip out.
“So hand her over then,” she challenges. “If what you’re saying is true, then it should be no big deal.”
Frustration compounds inside me, and she sees it. I know because her lips curve into an obnoxious smile.
“Thanks for your fucking help, Birdie. Always a real pleasure.”
“Anytime,” she calls after me as I slam the door.
Chapter 34
Madden
—PAST—
“Hey.” Adam crashes onto the sofa in the cottage with a long-winded sigh.
“What’s up with you?” I ask.
“I’m fucking exhausted,” he says. “Dad’s got me going into the office every day after class now, and I haven’t had time to do shit.”
“Serves you right for agreeing to work with him.”
“I’m not working with him.” He tosses me a shit-eating grin.
“What does that mean?”
“The business is mine,” he tells me. “Dad’s retiring early, and I’m taking over completely.”
“Cool,” I mutter even though we both know it’s not.
Adam knows I never had a choice. There wasn’t an offer on the table for me. I wasn’t even good enough to do grunt work at the company, let alone run it. And I know he hasn’t missed the conversations around the dinner table over the past two weeks. Mom keeps trying to shove college applications down my throat while Stefan smirks as he imagines me homeless.
I have a little over a month before I have to get the fuck out of here and land on my feet somehow. It wouldn’t matter, even if I found a college I wanted to go to in the fall. Come May 18th, I’m officially emancipated from this family. Meanwhile, Adam has an empire handed to him on a silver platter. I’ve always known my place in this hierarchy, but it’s never bothered me until now. Until I came home and saw him with Bianca. Has it always been this way between us, or am I just bitter and looking for justification that I’ve fucked his girlfriend behind his back?
“There are other positions at the company,” Adam says. “If you want, I can hook you up.”
“I’m good,” I clip out. “But thanks.”
He leans back and studies me. “You heard anything else from Tori?”
“Nope.” I clench my jaw.
I tried checking on her one more time, but her mom said she’d already left. I gave her a letter to send, but Tori didn’t respond to that either. It still bothers me because I want to know she’s all right, but I’m not about to tell Adam any of that shit. He’s made it clear he doesn’t give a fuck about her.
“Huh,” he murmurs. “I guess it’s for the best. You don’t need that kind of drama in your life.”
I don’t reply because I really don’t want to talk about this with him anymore.
He checks the time on his phone and stuffs it into his pocket. “Bianca’s parents are coming over for dinner tonight. You want to join us?”
“Maybe,” I lie.
I’ve been avoiding the hell out of Bianca, and I just hope it’s not obvious to everyone else. If Adam knew she was texting me every night, he’d probably try to rip my throat out. She tells me whenever she hears something funny. She sends me new songs she likes. She talks about her day at school, and sometimes, she talks about our time at the ranch, too.
I don’t respond. At least not with messages I actually send. I type out replies only to delete them. And then I consider blocking her altogether. I don’t have to see her to have her torment me. I know the second I give in again, I’m not going to stop myself. I’ll want more. Take more. And I can’t keep doing that shit to Adam. I feel bad enough as it is.
