Home > Ruthless Knight (Royal Hearts Academy #2)(117)

Ruthless Knight (Royal Hearts Academy #2)(117)
Author: Ashley Jade , A. Jade

“I’m the reason I almost ended up in a coffin, Cole.”

It’s obvious there’s a huge misconception and I need to fix it pronto.

It also doesn’t take a genius to figure out that if Cole thinks Oakley’s responsible for putting me in the hospital…he’s probably not the only one.

“I need you to get everyone in here.”

Cole blinks. “Why—”

“Now,” I snap. And because I know how stubborn he can be, I add, “Don’t argue with the girl who had a heart attack.”

Cole’s eyes become saucers and he quickly backpedals to the door. “I’ll be right back.”

Puzzled, Oakley peers down at me. “What are you doing?”

I reach for his hand. “This isn’t your fault, Oak.”

And I’m going to prove it.

My grandfather and uncle went home—but fortunately my parents, Dylan, Jace, and Bianca are still roaming the halls.

Once everyone is inside, I unleash the truth bomb.

“I told Oakley I wanted Adderall to help me study. That’s why he got it for me. He thought he was helping me since he knew how crazy my schedule was and how I was running myself into the ground trying to keep up with my schoolwork. When he realized I was losing weight, he confronted me about it. However, I assured him everything was fine, and I was only taking the pills to study.”

I look around at all of them. “I lied straight to his face…just like I lied to all of you.”

Cole starts to speak, but I hold up a finger. “I’m not done yet.”

This time, I turn to Oakley. “When he told me he was cutting me off…I manipulated him. I threatened to spill his secrets to people, I called him a worthless drug addict…I did some really fucked up shit.” I swing my gaze to the group again. “And you know what he did?”

“What?” Dylan questions, her features pinched in concern.

“He still cut me off and kicked me out of the guesthouse. Told me I couldn’t come back until I was Sawyer again.” I squeeze Oakley’s hand. “He was being a good friend…even though I didn’t deserve it. And if any of you have a problem with that…I suggest you get over it. Or start pointing your fingers at the person who’s really to blame for all this.” I look at Cole. “Because it’s not Oakley.”

It’s me.

Cole sucks in a sharp breath. “I didn’t know it went down like that.” He looks at Oakley. “You tried to tell me.”

Oakley’s shoulders slump. “But I was too fucking late.”

“You still tried to do the right thing, though,” Dylan whispers. “And as much as I hate to place the blame on Sawyer.” Her gaze shoots to me. “It sounds like you were left in the dark like we all were.” She exhales a breath. “I think I speak for us all when I say—please don’t ever touch that stuff again. You are so much more than a stupid fucking number on a scale.”

My cheeks heat with shame and tears burn my eyes.

“I’m sorry I hurt you.”

Her blue eyes cloud with sadness. “I’m sorry you hurt you.”

 

 

Chapter 97

 

 

Sawyer

 

 

Oh, no.

My stomach drops the moment I spot him at my door.

“Hi, Mr. Gonzalez.” I plaster a fake smile on my face. “Come in.”

I expect him to tell me I’m fired, but to my absolute surprise, he folds his arms around me. “Please don’t die.”

Turns out I was wrong. This is the most awkward hug I’ve ever had.

The man is practically sobbing in my arms. “Stone is a horrible waitress. Gets all the orders mixed up. Curses at customers. Everybody complains.”

I can’t help but laugh. “I’m sure he’ll get better…eventually.”

He edges away, his eyes pleading. “When can you come back?”

Oh, boy.

“Well, I get discharged tomorrow…but I have to go to a special clinic for three weeks.”

“Oh.” Panic flashes in his eyes. “But then you’ll be back?”

My, how the tables have turned. “Sure, of course.”

He holds up a bag. “Good. I brought you some chicken.”

I eagerly take the bag from him. It smells delicious.

“Thanks, Mr. G.”

“See you in three weeks,” he says as he treks out the door. “Don’t be late.”

Some things will never change.

Sighing, I open the bag and take a big whiff. Heaven.

“For goodness’ sake, Sawyer Grace. You had a heart attack two weeks ago and you’re eating fried chicken?”

Here we go.

I’ve been meaning to have this conversation. I’ve just been putting it off because I know it will hurt her.

But not nearly as much as it’s going to hurt me.

She’s my mother. The woman who gave birth to me.

She’s taken me to doctor appointments, celebrated all my birthdays, taken care of me whenever I got sick, showed up to all my school award ceremonies, and so many other things throughout the years.

But…she’s also given me scars.

My whole life I’ve tried to figure out why she is the way she is. Why she’s so focused on appearance that it takes precedence over everything else…but I honestly don’t know.

My grandmother never bothered with superficial things, and my grandfather is the same way, so it doesn’t make any sense.

And then it hit me. Society screwed her too.

All her life people have droned on and on about how beautiful she is. How she has the most stunning smile. The nicest teeth and hair. The most gorgeous face. The most perfect body.

But no one ever told her she was more than any of those things.

Therefore, her looks are the only thing she believes she has going for her.

Unfortunately, she passed that toxic belief down to her daughters.

She needs help.

But until she gets that help…I have to do the hardest thing I’ve ever done.

I have to break up with my mother.

“I love you, Mama.”

And I mean it. Even with all the bad…I still love her.

I always will.

But I have to cut this thread and do what’s best for me.

She blinks, looking so uncomfortable I could scream. “If you’re just buttering me up so I’ll let you eat that chicken—”

“Mama, I really need you to listen to me.”

Concern washes over her face. “What’s going on? I thought you were getting discharged tomorrow—”

“I am.”

Her concern changes to confusion. “Then what—”

“All my life you’ve made me feel like I’m not good enough.”

Frustration lines her face. “For heaven’s sake, Sawyer Grace. Stop with the dramatics. I’ve only been trying to help you.”

“Help me what?” I ask honestly, because if there was a lesson in all this, I’ve obviously missed it.

“Help you be healthier.” Her hands find her hips. “The doctors can blame it on Adderall until they’re blue in the face, but between you and me, I think what happened was a side effect of how heavy you used to be. I told you all that extra weight wasn’t good for your health.”

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