All the blood drained from my face. My hands felt cold, clammy.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Nothing.” My hands turned into fists to prevent them from shaking. “Go. I don’t need you anymore.”
She laughed.
There was a big ball of dread in the pit of my stomach.
“Stop joking around. Don’t worry. We’ll go shopping and I’ll get you a shirt and—”
“Leave,” I whispered.
She looked at me, confused, then her eyes turned to the car in my driveway, then back at me again.
It took everything I had to lift myself out of that car. She opened her mouth to say something, but I cut her off.
“Leave!” I said it more forcefully. “I’m done with you.”
I slammed the door closed and walked up my driveway.
My heart was beating like a drum in my chest. She hadn’t moved. I heard the car running and felt her eyes throwing daggers at my back. And then I heard her tires squeal and the car zooming away.
I turned, watching her car disappear. I knew it would end, knew it would come to this. I just didn’t expect it would be this early. I thought we’d had time. I was wrong.
I clenched my fists, trying to tamp down my anger, and faced my house. I closed my eyes as I held the doorknob, took a deep breath, and opened it.
“Hello, Cameron.”
Time to confront reality.
Chapter 19
Cameron
“Hello, Cameron.”
Love, guilt, and hatred rolled into one big ball that lodged in the pit of my stomach at the sight of my mother.
Raven lounged on the couch, comfortable in her own skin. She had always been that way, as though she owned everything she set her eyes on. That, or she knew she could buy anything and own it.
Everyone had a price, she’d said, and if there wasn’t one, she’d find out what was important to them and use it to get what she wanted.
People say I look like her—same black hair, nose, mouth—except for the color of our eyes. Hers were dark. When I was kid, I watched this movie about a shark that enjoyed killing people. Its eyes were black and soulless. It wasn’t until later when I realized the shark’s eyes reminded me of Raven’s. Sometimes, she’d have that dead look in them; sometimes, there was a gleam of danger when she was thrilled about something, as though she had scented blood and craved the kill. It never failed to disturb me.
“How did you get in?” I asked.
She crossed her legs and leaned forward, tucking her hand under her chin. Her nails were long and painted a dark color. “You still don’t lock the basement window,” she answered with a knowing smile. “I know you so well.”
I clenched my jaw.
She rose and walked toward me, her high heels clicking on the hardwood floor. The light caught the gleam of her diamond earrings. She loved to be draped in expensive jewelry and silk.
“Didn’t you miss me?” she asked.
I shrugged her off when she tried to hug me.
“Come on now, sweetheart. I missed you terribly.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I came to see you, silly. Can’t I just say hi to my baby?” She placed her hand on her chest, her expression hurt. It was all an act. There were very few things that could hurt Raven, but I knew what they were. “You give such a warm reception, Cam.”
I hadn’t seen her in a year. She’d come and go as she pleased. As long as she knew where I was, she stayed relatively sane. There was one time when I ran away, and no one knew where I was. My dad had told me she’d gone ballistic. She and I had made a deal that if she stayed out of my life, I wouldn’t disappear again. No matter how selfish she was, I knew she loved me in her own way. But she was toxic.
“Now that you’ve seen me, you can go,” I said.
“All I want is for us to be best friends. Why are you so angry at me all the time?”
“Pick one. Or do you want me to find my long list?”
She gave a dramatic sigh. “You know you’re going to miss me one day when I’m dead and they bury my fabulous corpse in the ground. Just make sure they don’t touch my rings, won’t you?”
I looked at her for a moment. When I couldn’t hold it any longer, I snickered. Sometimes she could be funny.
“I heard that.” Her face lit up. “I can still make you laugh. Now am I allowed to have a drink?”
The faster I gave her what she wanted, the faster she’d be gone. She followed me to the kitchen.
“Give me a glass of champagne. I have something to celebrate.”
“Sorry, I’m fresh out.” She lived an extravagant lifestyle and she never understood why I didn’t. I opened a can of beer, and because it was her, I poured it into a glass and placed it on the counter in front of her. “What did you do this time?”
She reached for the glass. “Oh, honey, you don’t want to know.”
“It’s not money you’re after.”
“Oh, God no. I have so much money I’m sick of it.”
“What then?”
“Oh, you know how it is. Men in high positions are so demanding. They beg and I’m there.” She looked young for her age. She was tall, beautiful, and smart. Growing up, I knew men fell at her feet. It was a thorn in her side that my dad wasn’t one of them.
“And here I am, dancing like a puppet for them,” she continued. “Yachts, jewelry, and men. Oh, my life is tiring. I’m so bored.”
“You’re still playing with people’s lives. When are you ever going to change, Raven?”
“I told you to call me Mom.”
Never. “I might if you ever acted like one.”
The air around me changed.
The shark was back. This was the real her.
She strolled over to the sink and poured the beer down the drain. Then she placed the empty glass on the edge of the counter, so close that it could fall and break into pieces with the tiniest tap.
“I noticed you have a new friend. Who is she?” She raised an eyebrow. “Should I be interested?”
If there was one thing I wanted to protect and hide from her, it was Kara. Raven was smart and cunning. She’d know it right away if I acted suspicious.
“Do whatever you want. I don’t care.”
Now she smiled. “One of your playthings?” She clucked her tongue. “They can’t stay away, and they can’t catch you. Those poor little girls. You know what they want, don’t you, Cameron? Don’t forget what I taught you. You don’t need them.”
She clinked a fingernail against the glass and it teetered dangerously.
“You remember what happened to that poor boy, don’t you?” she asked. “That poor foster child in that godforsaken town. Do you think anyone would understand what you did to your only childhood friend? Don’t get close to anyone. Remember, it’s just you and me against the world.”
“Get the fuck out,” I said quietly.
She grinned. “I’ll be back.” She crossed to me and gave me a kiss on the cheek. “See you soon, my love.”
Chapter 20
Kara
I shut my brain off as I drove home.
Because if I didn’t, I would drive back to his place, and my anger would make Voldemort’s wrath seem like a Sunday ride in the park.
There was a heaviness in my chest that had me breathing fast.
Was that his girlfriend’s car in his driveway?
No, no. Don’t think.
How could he?
My hands shook on the wheel. The tips of my fingers tingled as though all the blood in my body had concentrated there.
Stop thinking. You’re almost home.
I had no idea how I got home. As soon as I stepped inside, I took off my shoes, kicked them aside. I didn’t bother putting my things away and just
dumped them by the door. My keys made a clanging sound as I tossed them on the console table.
I registered the noise from the TV and something sharp and sweet hit my nostrils as I headed to the bathroom. I needed to cool down.
“Hey, Kara Koala,” my dad greeted cheerily.
He and Dylan were sitting at the kitchen island, eating dinner.
“Kar!” Dylan chirped. “My friend got you an interview for a job! It’s really good pay and—”
“Code Red,” I said.
Code Red meant that they should know better than to talk to me. I realized my jaw hurt. I’d been gritting my teeth all the way home.
The moment I locked the bathroom door behind me, I turned on the shower, hopped in the tub fully clothed. Three minutes later, I let my legs fold under me, pulling them close to my body.
I shut my eyes, letting the anger roll through me now, in the privacy of the bathroom, with the cold shower pounding on my heated skin.
It was his girlfriend, wasn’t it? The owner of the black Ferrari.
Why else would he look furious, almost desperate, to get me the hell out of there? As if he didn’t want whoever was there to see me.
As if I was some dirty little secret he wanted to hide.
My heart hurt.
Leave! He’d said it so quietly at first, then with more force as if he couldn’t stand being around me anymore. I’m done with you.
His cold and impersonal tone was as shocking as a slap in the face. I curled my hands into fists, wishing I could punch something. His nose preferably, just to see him bleed.
The way he was making me bleed now.
I was a game.
That was all I was to him, wasn’t I?
Was this his revenge because of what I did last night when I splashed the puddle on him with my car? Or maybe it was because of the whole motorcycle incident. Maybe he was really that furious about it.
But was he really that small and heartless to make me believe that he was genuinely interested in me when all this time he was just stringing me along?
He was good. Fuck, he was good. Oscar-fucking-worthy good.
Because…I was starting to believe him. I thought he was different. I had thrown him almost every rude behavior in my book to push him away, but he just kept coming back. And I thought…I thought…
Tears threatened to flow, but I held them off.
I had mistaken his tenacity for sincerity.
He’d told me he liked me. Twice. I remembered each moment.
The first one was when he showed up in my shop and followed me inside my home. I like you, he’d said with that dangerous, amused smile. Those lying lips.
I didn’t believe him then, thinking he probably said that to all the girls he wanted to bone. I should’ve kept on not believing him.
But then tonight happened. And he’d melted my resolve.
I hadn’t had a proper night’s sleep in weeks.
I was so exhausted and feeling so vulnerable and alone. And when he and I walked from the gym to my car and I saw the time, I realized what he’d done for me.
I had fallen asleep while waiting for him in the gym. And he had waited for me.
He must have been tired and hungry after practice, but he didn’t wake me up or complain.
And it struck a chord inside me. I felt like he cared.
And so I opened up to him.
I like you, he’d said again. And I believed him.
I felt that he was serious. That somehow, I was more than a little special to him. I thought I felt his sincerity. But I realized now that I just wanted to believe it.
A huge part of it was my fault. And that made me angrier more than anything else.
Because I should have known better.
I fell for his act. I was weak, and I prided myself on being strong. It was a blow. If I wasn’t strong, then what was I?
I’d fallen for his act just because he was kind and sweet to me a handful of times. Was I that desperate for his attention? But why?
There had been other guys out there I could’ve made a fool of myself with, but I hadn’t. So…why him?
I was embarrassed and pathetic. But he was worse.
Because he was cruel.
Maybe his goal was to get me in the sack, and now that he realized I wouldn’t give it up, he’d decided to humiliate me or get back at me in a different way—to make me like him and then throw me away. He’d succeeded. And now he didn’t want anything to do with me.
Maybe there was no girlfriend. Maybe that was his Ferrari in the driveway. And he really just wanted me to leave because he’d gotten what he wanted.
Maybe he’d made a bet with other guys. Or girls. It wasn’t the first time it happened to me. My own girl “friends” had made bets with other guys off me before. Mean ones. Nasty, vindictive ones. Get Kara—the poorest, plainest-looking, tallest girl in the class—to go out with you, sleep with her, and post it on social media. That hadn’t quite worked out the way they’d wanted it. I’d escaped before any physical damage was done to me. Emotional scars were different though.
Did he make a bet with his fellow basketball players? With the whole team?
Why did I want to cry?
Worse things have happened to me and I didn’t cry then. I sure as fuck wouldn’t cry now.
I knew there was a possibility I was blowing this out of proportion, and my history was clouding my judgment.
I turned the shower off and lifted myself out of the tub. My wet clothes dripped all over the floor. I looked up to the ceiling, prayed for patience. A wet floor was a pet peeve. Just one more thing to add to his list.
I took my clothes off and wrung them dry. Using the washing machine would be costly. I had to wash these by hand now or else they’d smell tomorrow. I was adding that to his list too.
And when I searched for a towel and remembered I didn’t get my things before I jumped in the shower, the anger came back. It always did.
I shouted for Dylan to get me a towel. I wrapped myself in it and ran to my room.
His sweater was on my bed.
And I just saw red.
I slammed open my dresser, put on panties, shirt, and jeans.
Girl, what about a bra?
Fuck the bra. I didn’t need it anyway.
My hair was still wet, but I didn’t care. I marched past my dad and Dylan in the living room, put on my parka, grabbed my keys, and leaped in my car.
I was ready for war.
* * *
It started to rain again just as I got into my car. Little pellets of hate from the night sky that my windshield wipers couldn’t completely clear away. Just like the hot anger I felt for him. Except that mine was building into a storm.
I felt hot, burning. I cranked the window open a little, letting the night air cool me down. The lights from the oncoming traffic blinded me as I put my signal on, turned right onto his street. I was hoping the drive to his house would calm me a little bit. Not a chance.
My body was poised for a fight. The adrenaline rush and the anger made me blind to everything but confronting him. My breathing quickened as I spotted his house, as I pulled up to his driveway. The Ferrari was gone.
I sat there for a moment, trying to convince myself to let it go. He wasn’t worth it. Forget about him and move on. He certainly didn’t care about me.
I gripped the steering wheel, focusing on the feel of it in my hands. The squeaking sound of the wiper blades as they slid back and forth on the windshield every few seconds. The sound of the rain as it hit the roof of my car. Focusing on anything other than all the things I wanted to hurl at his face to hurt him as much as he had hurt me.
Leave! I’m done with you. His voice was strong and clear in my head.
I gave myself another minute to calm down. Inhale, fucking exhal
e. Inhale, fucking exhale.
Fuck it.
I slid out of my car and slammed the door closed. The bright beams of my headlights illuminated the door of his garage.
My hands curled into fists as I marched to his front door. The porch light came on as I rang the doorbell once. Twice. Ten times. And when it didn’t open fast enough, I started banging on it with my fists.
Open up, asshole.
And then he did.
He filled up the doorway. He stood there, looking tall and mercilessly beautiful. I was tall, but he was taller. He had to lower his head to look at me this closely.
His eyes, deeply blue in the daylight, had gone dark and cold. He reminded me of a silent lion before it attacked. It felt like I was looking at a different person.
I wanted to tear right into him.
I’m done with you. His voice kept banging in my head.
“You fucking asshole,” I said. My voice had gone quiet and thick. “How could you?”
I waited for him to say something. Anything. His lack of response cut me more than his words could.
“Aren’t you going to say anything to me?”
Nothing. The man who said he liked me was gone. His mouth looked hard. His masculine face had no softness or compunction over what happened just a couple of hours ago.
Filled with hate, I drilled a finger into his chest. “How dare you! What right do you have to play with my feelings? Or anyone’s? Do you think it’s okay to make me like you and when you get bored you can just throw me away? Fuck you!”
And still there was no emotion on his face. It made me angrier, spurred me on.
“You think you’re someone special?” I snarled. “You’re not. You’re not the first asshole who tried to pull this crap on this girl. There’s one of you on every fucking corner of every fucking street. Did you make a bet with your teammates to get me to like you? Have fun with the fucking virgin, get you some dough while you’re at it. How much was it, huh? Was it enough to pay for my gas money?”
Something flickered in his eyes, but he hid it so quickly I wasn’t sure if it really happened.
“Was that your girlfriend coming to visit you? She caught you, didn’t she? You motherfucker. You deserve to be alone.” I raised my chin, daring him to respond. “You deserve to be with girls like you who don’t give two shits about you. I don’t give a fuck about your bike, I don’t give a fuck about your shit, and I don’t give a fuck about you.”
Spitfire in Love Page 17
