And that is where I stay for the rest of the afternoon until my skin is so wrinkly I look like a ninety-year-old lady. I don’t leave my room for the rest of the holiday, until I am forced to go back to school on Monday morning.
Chapter 26
BARRETT
Ihad to get out of there. I couldn’t be in that house another second; see the marks my father left on her leg. He touched her against her will. He fucking touched her.
I knew something was up at dinner when she was being weird, I just didn’t know it was because my scumbag of a father was groping her under the table.
The look on her face when she realised we knew what had happened was even worse. She was afraid, like she thought we would blame her for my father’s actions. The emotion was only there for a second before she slammed her mental walls into place, preparing herself for whatever shitty thing we were going to say to her. Seeing her have that reaction to us pushed me over the edge. Even worse than my hatred for my father, was my hatred for myself; knowing I caused her to feel that way and act like that towards us.
Storming out of the room, I high-tailed it out to my car and flew down the drive, barely slowing down as the guards rushed to open the gates in time. Who the fuck needs guards anyway?
Escaping from that house, I couldn’t bear to go back to my parent’s place; even to the pool house. I can’t risk running into my father. God knows what I would do if I ran into him right now.
Just the thought of being in their space, in that cold, empty house full of their exorbitantly expensive crap that they care about more than each other, or me, has me grinding my teeth. The ever-simmering pot of anger inside me bubbling up and boiling over.
Instead, I head back to our warehouse, our sanctum sanctorum. It’s the only place either of us truly feel like we can be ourselves.
Preston had the place built last year, when we started investigating Charles. He’s been skimming money from his dad’s bank accounts for years now. Charles is too busy trying to become richer, become more powerful, that he hasn’t been paying any attention to what he already has, or well, had.
Preston needed a game plan to get out from under his father’s thumb, to permanently separate himself from him, and there is no way he could achieve that without money.
So, we built the warehouse. Our own place where we could come to get away from the shitshow that is our lives, and just chill, be ourselves, without fear of someone interrupting or overhearing us. It also gives us a safe place to hide all of the information we have gathered on Charles.
The drive to the warehouse flashes by so quickly I barely remember it. One minute I was leaving the Montgomerys and the next I’m pulling off the main road onto the hidden gravel path leading to the steel structure.
Getting out of the car, I head over to the door, stick my key in the lock, and let myself in. Not wanting to remember anything about this day, I grab my stash of joints and a bottle of whiskey, then make my way over to the sofa and drop down onto it.
Opening the whiskey, I down two huge gulps before setting it on the coffee table and lighting the joint. Bliss.
I don’t know how long I sit there, drinking myself into a stupor, before Preston arrives. I knew he would find me here. Even if he didn’t know me that well, the perimeter alarm will have notified him of my arrival.
Grabbing himself a beer, he sits down on the sofa opposite me, the whole cushion sinking underneath his weight and his broad frame looking completely out of proportion with the small couch.
The man is built like a tank. He spends way too much time working out in the gym; he seriously needs to get a life. Things have only gotten worse since the Montgomerys arrived, and I’m pretty sure it’s not only because of the stress associated with his father and Robert. A hot little vixen who stands out by a mile in this town, with her sexy accent and no shits given persona, is definitely part of the reason he’s wound so tightly.
It’s not like he’s the only one. She’s been getting to me too. I’ve also been spending more time than normal in the gym, going a few rounds in the ring with Preston. Mostly, though, I’ve been taking to the running track to burn off the stress and exhaust myself, so I don’t think of her; but damn if she doesn’t creep into my thoughts at night or haunt my dreams. It’s so fucking difficult though, watching her ass running around the track in front of me in her tight lycra pants.
She’s the only girl on the team – God forbid any woman in Crescentwood be caught sweating in front of anyone – and don’t think I haven’t noticed the attention she gets from the other guys. Not that she is even aware of their lingering gazes and heated looks. The assholes all backed off once I gave them my best death glare though. I may come across as the laid-back, flirty, funny guy; but that doesn’t mean I can’t be formidable when I need to be, and for some reason, Sophie brings out the beast in me.
Preston and I sit in silence for a long time, each of us absorbed in our own thoughts. Eventually, he asks, “You ok man?”
“Yeah…No…I dunno.” I respond, shaking my head. I’ve no idea anymore. I knew my father was a cheating sack of shit, but to put his filthy fucking hands on a woman who isn’t interested; and to dig his nails in that deeply so she can’t get free, it makes my blood boil.
Even at that, I know my reaction is because he put his hands on Sophie. The girl is getting to me, more than she should be. I can’t fucking stand watching that shitbag, Neill, touching and kissing her every fucking day.
“What’s going on man?”
“He fucking touched her!” I shout at him, slurring the words a little, thanks to the copious amounts of whiskey I’ve consumed in the last hour. How can he not be as pissed off as I am?
“Yeah, I saw.” He says without emotion, like he could care less. It’s an act though, it’s gotta be. Surely he’s not so twisted up in whatever is going on with his father and Robert that he would be ok with any woman, with Sophie, being touched against her will.
“What the fuck, man? Are you so far gone that you can’t see how wrong it is that my father touched her when she clearly didn’t want him to? Even if you don’t like or trust the girl, that’s still fucked up.”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” He snarls out, getting worked up at my accusations. “I’m pissed at your father too. My head is as messed up as yours when it comes to this girl, but we can’t let it cloud our judgement.”
Sighing wearily, I’m so sick of having this same conversation with him. I keep trying to convince him he’s wrong about Sophie, but he doesn’t listen to anything I say when it comes to her.
“Man, give it up. I’ve told you before, she’s not working with her old man.”
“We don’t know that for sure Barrett! I can’t afford to take any risks when it comes to my father. Until we know for certain, we have to be careful.”
“Fine then,” I snap out, frustrated, “let’s find out once and for all. What we’re doing isn’t working. We need to confront her, get some real answers from her and hear what she has to say. Then we can either deal with it, or move on.” I’m feeling the whiskey and I’m not entirely sure what I’m saying, but hopefully, when we know once and for all, he will finally drop this shit.