She frowns. "I meant, this is wrong. I've seen Harley around you. Hell, she practically can't tear her eyes away from you. All of you are wrong. She's not on some revenge mission."
"She came here on a revenge mission," I remind her, tipping my beer up again.
"You're wrong," she says again, looking away.
I don't argue. I don't have to.
I was there. They weren't.
Maverick darts outside, eyes wide and mouth in an "o" as he darts a gaze to me.
"Britt is pissed."
"Britt doesn't get pissed," Rain says, confused.
"She should be pissed," I say with a shrug.
"No. Not at Harley," he says just before the doors fling open.
Britt levels me with teary eyes. Teary-fucking-eyes. I've never seen her cry. Never seen her show any sign of sadness, despite what she lived through.
But she has tears right now.
"You accused Harley of all that?"
I lean up, keeping my eyes on her. "She admitted it."
"Dane told me you'd consumed copious amounts of alcohol which is known to limit your true understanding of all factors surrounding an incident."
"I'm perfectly aware of how it went down," I tell her.
How twisted has Harley gotten her?
"The majority of drivers under the influence swear they never crossed the lines even after they wreck," she volleys, eyes determined.
"This wasn't driving, Britt. I-"
She thrusts her phone at me, and I'm confused as I look down at a screen. "It's the app we launched today. It's Foster Friend Finder. She created that because of my story that I freely shared with her. Most interns rarely get time inside the creative room. I did. This goes on my resume. I also get a monetary bonus for it. This is now tied to my name, even though it was her creation. She included me when she didn't have to, and trusted me to help her with all the information she needed."
The story Harley told me about this very app tries to creep through the blanket of alcoholic fuzz.
"She made you keep working there a secret for a reason, Britt. Think about that before you defend her too much."
That's when more tears fill up in her eyes. "That's why you think she did this?" she asks softly.
I don't say anything. Instead, I go back to drinking my beer.
"This is my fault," she says as she sits down.
"No, it's not, Britt," I groan, looking over to Rain for help. Rain just stays quiet, her brow furrowed as she studies Britt.
"Yes, it is," Britt says as she looks back at me. "I requested that Harley not tell anyone in my family about my employment there."
"Why?" Rain asks before I can.
"Because everyone would have gotten involved to make sure I was treated right. Everyone would have interfered, and I thought it possible for her opinion to be influenced by this family."
Rain's lips tense, and she looks over at me with pity oozing from her eyes. I'm slow to catch up, but my stomach starts to twist when Britt's confession slowly sinks in.
"Dane is actively involved in most aspects of my life, influencing them. I don't mind it. I really don't," she says, looking up at Dane, who looks hurt.
I didn't realize he came out here.
Britt's eyes come back to us. "But I really wanted this to be something I did on my own. And I did do it on my own. She didn't even know my last name when she told me I was basically getting the internship, as long as my background check came in."
Rain sucks in a breath as my blood turns to ice.
No.
No.
Please, God, no.
Was I really so drunk that I didn't detect sarcasm?
No. I know she was dead serious when she looked me in the eyes … Dead. Her eyes were dead. Like she was seconds away from walking right out of the world.
"What was going on Friday when Vivica was at the office?" I ask calmly, trying to keep all my buzzing emotions under control.
Britt looks away. "Vivica was telling me about a LARP for some of their games being held in the park next Sunday. She offered to loan me one of her costumes since we're the same size. I thanked her. She said she had to go catch up with Harley. Then I gave her my phone number. The end."
She looks back up at me.
"No," I say shaking my head. "She specifically told Vivica to befriend you to make it hurt worse when she attacked the family or whatever."
She cocks her head. "She said my name?"
I freeze, clearing my throat. "Who else would it be?"
"I don't make assumptions, because assumptions are just biased guesses that lead to unnecessary provocation. The human is the only thing too complex to assume anything about. I need to get back to work. Harley hasn't acted like anything is wrong, and now I feel terrible for causing this. You should apologize."
She says nothing else as she walks away.
"You didn't cause this!" Dane calls out behind her before glaring daggers at me.
Britt doesn't say a word as she disappears through the fence gate.
"Did you really just fuck up this bad?" Dane groans, dropping to the seat beside me.
"He really did," Maverick chimes in. Hell, I forgot he was out here.
Right now, I'm too busy worrying that I really did just fuck up that bad.
"Go talk to her," Rain says on a sigh. "This time, try that mature 'asking' thing you spoke so highly about. You seem to get better answers that way."
I shove out of my seat, and Maverick jogs behind me, taking over the job of driving me as I practically sprint through the yard.
I never thought passion could be a bad thing.
I never thought love could bite you in the ass this way.
I never knew that you fuck up more when you get too invested. Because it hurts worse when you care. You lash out harder when it hurts. And you royally fuck up when you're inside the box instead of on the outside looking in.
Whether I was right or wrong, everything is fucked now.
Chapter 44
HARLEY
Yeah, I left the office.
Yes, I'm properly wallowing now. Tissues, chocolate, soda, and video games are surrounding me. No, I don't fucking care how I look.
I just know it can't be a tenth as bad as I feel.
I almost don't answer the incessant knocking.
I almost pretend I don't hear Dale calling my name through the door.
I almost, almost tell him to go fuck himself.
Wiping tears off my cheeks, I limply move through the house, deciding to answer and let him call me whatever he wants. If he needs to rage, then let him rage. If he needs to threaten, let him threaten.
As long as he's cruel, I'll be able to grow stronger.
Eventually.
That's what happened before.
The taunts, laughter, painful words, and altogether cruelty turned me into the woman I am today. The woman who stands up and faces confrontation with a smile. The woman people don't walk over.
Or at least, they didn't walk over me.
I need that strength back right now, because I never imagined anything could hurt this bad. The dull ache that started in my chest last night is almost suffocating me today.
What happens if I'm even worse tomorrow?
I swing open the door to find Dale on my front stoop, and Maverick sitting on the car behind him.
Maverick offers me a tight smile and awkward wave that I pretend not to notice. Apparently Dale is drunk again if he needs a DD.
"Tell me you didn't really do it," Dale says, even though it sounds like a pained command.
"I didn't really do it," I retort, narrowing my eyes like I'm impervious, while silently praying for the fortitude I need to not fall apart in front of him.
Not that he can miss my tear-stained cheeks.
He reaches up to touch said cheeks, and I practically stumble backwards. "Don't touch me," I say acidly.
He lowers his hands as his lips tighten. "Britt says she asked you to keep her a secret."
"She did."
"Why did you lie the other night?"
"I saw no reason to defend myself to a man who has already decided exactly who I am. You came with your mind made up, so I just told you what you wanted to hear. Defending myself was pointless. It was a peek into a future that too closely resembled my past. I've learned the hard way that people will only ever see you as they want to. You can't change their perception."
I start to close the door, but he forces it back open, shouldering his way inside. Or tries to. I block him, making an unspoken statement that he's going to have to go through me to get in.
Which is obviously stupid. He can pick me up and toss me aside with ease. I'm just posturing like a gorilla for no reason that holds true merit.
He stops, nonetheless, and our eyes lock in a stubborn gaze.
"Why did you lie?" he asks again, as though my answer wasn't sufficient enough for him.
I should tell him to go to hell and kick him in the balls. I should call the police and embarrass the hell out of him if he doesn't just walk away.
I should lock the door and go finish wallowing.
Instead, my heart and head decide to rip out what's left of my dignity and toss it at his feet as I bare my soul.
"For my entire life, I've sought my father's approval. Or affection. Or hell, just a kind word. I was good. I was nice. I was sweet, docile doormat. And he hated me. He chose Jessie over me-over the child who shares his blood. He chose a cunning, manipulative girl over his awkwardly gentle flesh-and-blood daughter. I was a disappointment for reasons I still don't understand. And never will. In his mind, I'm nothing. I'm pointless. And his mind is clearly never changing no matter how much I prove him wrong."