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A smart girl would have walked away.
She would have tossed up her arms and waltzed her happy ass out of state just like Ivy did with Gabe.
But the guilt is holding me in place. That and the worry I feel for both of them.
I know Damon’s dad has been harassing him lately. Not that he answers the calls, but just the name appearing on his screen is enough to set him off.
Every time I’ve pulled up my big girl panties to approach Ezra about it, he’s chased me off again by saying something nasty, pretty much ending any conversation before I have the chance to start.
It only means I’ve been seeing Damon more than Ezra, and fortunately, I’ve been doing so alone. Handling one at a time is a hell of a lot easier. Damon is more likely to come over here than have me meet him at their house. I think it’s to avoid his brother. They haven’t been getting along that well either.
Which is, again, my fault.
And I feel horrible about it.
Sadly that just gives Dylan the chance to show his ass. He’s been aggressive toward the twins. Not physically, but in the crap he says. And while I know they’re both holding themselves back when he says anything, I’m not sure one of them won’t snap one day and knock Dylan around for it.
Thankfully, Ezra has only been over once, and we spent the entire time arguing with each other about shit that doesn’t matter. I don’t know why he even tries anymore. He obviously will never let the past go.
He’s supposed to come over tonight, and I’m not looking forward to it. His text was one bullshit line.See you in a few hours.That’s it.
I typed out several responses, most of them telling him to keep his ass home or not to bother or calling him every name I could come up with in shouty caps and lots of middle finger emojis, but I erased them all because I really do need to talk to him about Damon.
While waiting, I scroll through social media and feel jealous watching the videos Ivy has posted on her secret pages. She’s out there living the good life while I’m subjecting myself to what amounts to emotional and mental torture.
Her latest post is captionedCatch Me If You Can, a photo of her boarding her father’s plane with a sweet smile on her face and her middle finger up. I laugh knowing it’s a nod to Gabriel, and wonder if he knows about these secret accounts.
I also worry because, according to Ava, Gabe has been looking for Ivy but hasn’t yet succeeded in finding her. It’s not hard to imagine he’ll make her life hell if he ever manages to do so.
Realizing I miss my bestie, I dial her number and wait the four rings it takes for her to answer.
I don’t give her a chance to say a word before I ask, “How’s the fugitive life going?”
“It’s great,” she answers, her voice chipper, yet relaxed and carefree. “I was just outside enjoying the beach, and tonight I’ll be partying it up at a club.”
God, how I wish I could be her right now. Refusing to worry her, I try to disguise the distress in my voice. Somehow I know I fail miserably at the effort.
“Must be fucking nice. Do me a favor, and post a video for me to see. I want to live vicariously through you for a while.”
“I’ve already posted several. Plus, what do you have to bitch about? You’re living it up with two insanely gorgeous men you get to play with at the same time. If anybody needs to post a video, it’s you.”
My eyes close at the comment. Ivy has no idea how what I’m assuming was a joke on her part has touched too close to home.
Not only does it remind me of what I did in high school that led to the scar on my shoulder, it also puts me in a position where I have to lie to my best friend.
I’ve always been a horrible liar. But lately, I’ve been doing it so much, I could compete with Gabriel for how much of a professional at it I’m becoming.
Unable to summon the will to sound overjoyed about the twins being in my life, I tell a half truth, something that gives me a reason to sound disgruntled.
“Actually, that’s more complicated than I’d like it to be. Damon got arrested a few weeks ago.”
The perfect lie.
Something that’s verifiable and gives me an excuse to sound as upset as I am.
I’m just leaving out the subsequent torture of one twin who needs me even more now that he’s being harassed by his father, and the other one who is hellbent on destroying me.
After a back and forth where I explain that Shane was arrested with Damon, and that Ezra wasn’t there for once, the doorbell rings through the house, which causes my stomach to shrivel into a painful ball.
