Though I guess there’s something to be said for the devil you know versus the one you don’t…
“My sister doesn’t drink. She can’t because of all the medication she takes,” I say, sending him a look. “You know this.”
“She was drunk at the Halloween party,” Spencer reminds me and I scowl.
“I know. That was a mistake,” I say, my voice low. Thanks to the pre-party she had with Summer. That pissed me off. I yelled at Sylvie for a solid fifteen minutes about that shit. She cried and swore Spencer was protecting her. I didn’t mention what happened with Summer that night to Sylvie. That’s their conversation to have.
I wonder if they ever had it. If Summer admitted what Bryan almost did to her. If I hadn’t come along when I did, that little asshole would’ve shoved his pencil dick inside her and fucked her against the tree.
If he’d done that, I’d have killed him. No joke. No one touches what’s mine.
I shake my head once, noticing my hands are clenched into tight fists. I slowly uncurl my fingers, trying to relax.
Spence’s gaze goes to the table where Sylvie and Summer are sitting. He watches them with longing in his eyes, and I hope to fuck I don’t look as lovesick as he does. “She doing okay?” he asks, referring to my sister.
“She seems to be.” I honestly don’t know. Mother controls everything Sylvie does. She hates that Sylvie is here instead of at home, where she can keep watch over her precious, sickly daughter all the time. Carolina, on the other hand, is completely independent from our parents, far away at a prestigious dance school. And she’s only fourteen. She told me once she hated being a Lancaster. It brought her nothing but trouble.
I can relate.
“I worry about her.” Spence turns his gaze to mine. “Don’t you worry about her?”
“My mother has everything under control,” I say, my voice wooden, my eyes going yet again to Summer. She glances up at the same exact moment, our gazes locking. She doesn’t look away.
Neither do I.
“Sylvie really likes Savage,” Spence continues. “She told me Summer is her best friend. Her only friend, besides me.”
“Fucking bullshit,” I mutter, shaking my head. I know exactly what Savage is doing. Trying to get close to my sister to get on my good side.
It won’t work.
“Right? It’s ridiculous. Sylvie barely knows her,” Spencer grumbles, irritable.
I study Summer. The elegant curve of her neck. The soft angle of her jaw. The stubborn jut of her chin. Her long, dark hair pulled back in the severe ponytail as usual, showing off that beautiful face. Her flashing dark eyes. Lush mouth. A mouth I kissed only a couple of hours ago. She opened to me like a goddamn flower, ripe for the taking. Eager whimpers sounding in her throat, her tongue licking mine like she wanted to swallow me whole.
Reminding me of all the things we’ve done together already. How she gives in so easily. The taste of her pussy. The breathy moans she’d make when I hit a particularly deep spot with my cock.
Discreetly I shift in my seat, reaching down to readjust myself as I tear my gaze away from her. She’s a distraction I don’t fucking need. I am so over her getting in my head and settling in like she belongs there. She’s a nuisance.
A beautiful nuisance, but one I’m not interested in.
“What are your birthday plans?” Dean asks. I can tell he’s trying to change the subject.
“Dinner with the fam, get drunk, get laid. Hopefully in that order,” I declare, thinking of the impending evening ahead.
I’m not looking forward to it. Sucks that my birthday is so close to Thanksgiving. Since the divorce, our parents still spend this particular holiday together, and I can’t fucking stand it. The snide remarks. The guilt trips my mother puts on Dad. The let’s pretend we’re one big happy family plan, though it never works.
There’s always an argument. Sometimes a screaming match, though those have calmed down over the years. Tears. Always tears.
So many tears.
Carolina won’t be there. Said she couldn’t get away from school, their Nutcracker production is taking up all of their time, and she’s the lead. Little Clara, dancing on the stage. My mother was terribly disappointed. She tries so damn hard to control all of us, and two out of three rebel against her cloying ways no matter how hard she tries. Sylvie deals with the brunt of it, and I’m starting to wonder if Mother has an unhealthy fixation on my sister.
I wouldn’t be surprised if she does.
“You going to go trolling for a girl? Or do you already have someone lined up?” Dean asks, burrowing his way into my thoughts with his questions.
I contemplate his words, my thoughts filled with Summer. That’s who I want for my birthday. But unfortunately, I’ve made prior arrangements. And I’m sure Summer has plans for the break. “I already have someone lined up.”
“Bringing her as a guest to dinner?” Spencer asks. He knows how I operate.
I barely crack a smile. “Perhaps.”
“Someone your parents won’t approve of I’m sure,” Spencer says with a chuckle.
“That’s where you’re wrong.” My closed-lipped smile is smug. “My mother will die from happiness when she sees who I’m bringing. I’m already putting the plan into place.”
Dean groans. “Tell me it’s not Leticia.”
My expression says it all. Of course it’s Leticia Everett. My future wife. The future mother of my children, which is totally fucking crazy to think about, but my mother ensured this would happen when we were barely out of diapers.
Leticia’s ancestors were land barons who bought up the majority of the east coast, then sold it off piece by piece for millions throughout the years. She’s seventeen, pretty and virginal. If I were to even mention coming on her tits, she’d probably lose her goddamn mind. I fought against this relationship, but I recently realized I should try and feel this girl out. Maybe she’s a freak like me.
Like Summer.
I couldn’t be so fucking lucky, but it’s worth a shot.
Twenty-Nine
Summer
I finish packing my bag right when there’s a knock on my door. Before I can answer it, Sylvie barges in, an impatient look on her pixie face.
“What’s taking you so long?”
“I’m done,” I tell her, slinging my duffel bag strap over my shoulder. I could’ve brought my suitcase, but decided it would be too large. Besides, it’s only for a week. How much clothing will I need for a relaxing visit over Thanksgiving break?
Sylvie’s eyes practically bulge out of her head. “That’s all you’re bringing?”
“What else do I need?”
She laughs. “You haven’t spent a week with my family at the Newport house, have you? Just wait and see. We might need to take you shopping. Or you can raid my closet.”
I look her up and down. “I don’t think I could fit in your clothes.”
“You could. Trust me. I have a variety of sizes, thanks to my weight always fluctuating.” She sighs dramatically. “Dying is so hard on the body, no matter what age you are.”