I wanted to run to Preston’s wing, but I forced myself to walk like a normal human being. There was no reason to freak out.
My father had been right. Again. I wasn’t acting like myself. And while I wasn’t sure what in the fuck a “tizzy” actually was, I was certain that I was acting extreme.
Or at least, extreme for Penn Hardick.
I was almost always calm. Friendly. Laid back. I never had to try to be any of those things – it’s just the way I am.
Under normal circumstances.
And what in the hell do you think is so abnormal about Anne? Why this feeling of dread in the pit of your gut?
I started jogging.
Preston’s wing was right past mine. His main hall was identical to my wing and all of the others. But Preston had chosen the room all the way at the end – or more plainly put, the room that was farthest away from all of us, for his bedroom.
It definitely wasn’t a personal dig. He’d “set up base” there because occasionally he brought a lady friend home with him. Preston didn’t want to worry about sound traveling when he had much more important and naked things to be concerned with.
By the time I got to his actual bedroom door, I was already annoyed with him just for making me walk so far. But the annoyance quickly turned to a sad mixture of disgust and pity when I caught sight of him passed out in bed.
Preston wasn’t so much in bed as he was on the bed. He’d made it to the foot, crawled on top, and apparently decided that was good enough.
He was still wearing the tux from Dad’s party.
For all I knew, he was still drunk.
I shook my head and padded across the room. The odds of Preston having passed Anne this morning were incredibly low, and I almost felt bad waking him.
But I needed to be sure.
“Pres.” I gave one of his legs a shake.
Nothing.
“Preston. Wake up.” I shook a little harder.
Still nothing.
It was time to go all out.
“Preston! There’s a six-year-old little girl on the front steps claiming you’re her daddy!”
It’s amazing how Preston’s subconscious could pick and choose what he heard. He practically shot through the ceiling.
“What the hell? What did you say? What? Who?” Preston was instantly in full panic mode but was still too hungover to clearly know what he was panicking about. Drool had crusted to the side of his “handsome” face.
I started laughing. Preston hazily realized he’d been had and dropped back down on the bed. “You fucker... I don’t have any kids... Don’t even joke about that! God, you’re a fucker, Penn.”
But even Preston was chuckling lightly. Pres could always appreciate a good prank. Mostly because he was usually the one pulling them.
“Hey, don’t fall asleep yet. I gotta ask you something.” I gave his leg another shake, and he focused incredibly bloodshot blue eyes on me.
“What do you waaant, Penn? It’s like, six a.m. Jesus. Let me sleep.”
Unbelievable.
“Pres, it’s like… almost 8:00. Dad said you got in super early, and I just wondered if maybe you saw Anne leaving?” Again with the faked nonchalance, and again with the absolute failure to pull it off.
Preston propped himself up on one elbow. “You know what, I did see her. I’d already forgotten. I think I was still drunk when I got home. She was up looking for a bathroom or something.”
“There are bathrooms everywhere in this goddamn house.” Why wouldn’t she just use the one attached to the guest room?
“Yeah but, you know, I guess she’s not really familiar with the full scale of unneeded amenities in the Hardick household yet.” His head dropped back down.
“So, did she say anything?” I was purposely deep breathing again to remain calm. This was taking entirely too long.
“Nah, not really. She mostly just listened to me blab.” Preston’s voice was fading out, and I knew he’d be back asleep any second now.
“You talked to her?” Suddenly my stomach began to twist.
“Yeah. I think so. God, I’m so fuckin’ burnt, Penn. Can we talk about this later?”
Now I was mad.
“No, we cannot. I’m trying to figure out why the hell she just up and left this morning. What did you say to her?” Nobody got along with Preston better than I did. But I was finding it hard, currently, not to start pummeling the crap out of his disheveled, pathetic body.
“Uuuggghhh. I hate you, Penn.” He sat up fully, and the look in his eyes said he’d be happy to pummel me right back. “I don’t know. Christ. I think I told her she should be like, up front with you. About... her life or whatever. I told her that Dad and Pierce are both the equivalent of human hunting dogs when it comes to digging up people’s skeletons.”
“You. Said. What?” He deserved to be punched in the face now. I had tried so incredibly hard to let Anne come to me – no pressure – share as she wanted when she wanted and how she wanted.
“There’s something about that chick, Penn. She’s hiding something. I mean, I don’t caaare. But she is. And you know Dad and Pierce will find out what it is. That’s what they dooo.” Preston stared at me like we were discussing horse feed.
“Whatever is going on in Anne’s life is Anne’s business. She’s a great girl, and I really like her a lot. Do you realize you may have just fucked this up for me completely?” I was yelling, and I did not care.
“Would you rather I just lie and tell you nothing is weird about that girl at all? I’m looking out for you. Fuck. I’m looking out for her. She needs to know that in this family, personal business doesn’t fucking exist! It sucks, but it’s true and you know it, Penn!” Preston was yelling too now.
“No one was demanding any personal information from her. She was fine. She was happy! She fucking left because of you! No one else had bothered her at all!” I was pretty sure I could kick Preston’s ass right now. He was hungover and weak, and we were basically the same size anyway.
“That’s cuz she’s been around for like two seconds, Penn! If you really like her then you have to be honest with yourself! Sketchy doesn’t work in this family! What Dad and Pierce don’t find out, the goddamn paparazzi will!” Preston threw his arms up in exasperation.
“Why are you so sure there’s something to be found out? Why?”
“Because there is. And you know it. Why are you so sure there’s something to be found out, Penn?” Preston’s expression was severe, and severe was the one thing that Preston almost never was.
He was actually worried. He actually sensed something.
And he was right. I did too.
“What if she never comes back because of your ‘conversation’ that was so necessary to have while you were half drunk? What if you really did fuck this up?” The anger was already fading into a much worse pit of despair somewhere deep in my stomach.
I felt ill.
“If she never comes back, there’s a reason – and it isn’t me being honest with her this morning. If she doesn’t come back, she’s either protecting you or protecting herself or protecting her son. Maybe all three. And if there really is anything that she can’t just fucking be honest with you about, then it’s better if she stays away from the Hardick palace to begin with. Better for everybody. Including you, Penn.” Preston’s voice was at a normal volume again, and he looked genuinely sorry. But he also looked like he firmly believed everything he’d just said.