by Selena
“I thought you didn’t like him anymore,” Royal says, his eyes narrowing.
“I won’t see him anymore,” I say to Dad. “I promise, Daddy. I’ll never see him again if you leave him alone. If you don’t hurt Devlin.”
He blows out a breath, a frown creasing his brow. “Fine,” he says after a pause. “I suppose there’s no harm in leaving a kid or two around. They won’t have any power once their parents are gone. We’ll be running this town by then.”
“Exactly,” I say, nodding frantically, terrified he’ll change his mind. “Please don’t hurt Devlin. Or his cousins. It’s not fair to go after people who never hurt you. None of them deserve that.”
Royal snorts, but he doesn’t say anything. He only glares at Dad with a sullen expression, waiting for his answer. I think about adding Devlin’s dad, but I know Dad would never let go of his grudge against him. If I can keep Devlin safe, that’s enough. The cousins are a bonus.
Dad sighs. “I’ll leave them out of it. But if you’re lying…”
“I’m not,” I say, swallowing hard. I can’t lie about this. If I do, and Devlin gets hurt—or worse—there’s no going back from that. It might kill me to stay away from him, but there’s no other option now. If I don’t stay away, he’ll literally be killed. Our relationship always existed on borrowed time, and that time has run out. One beautiful month is all we’ll ever get.
“I’ll know if you’re lying,” Royal says.
“I know,” I admit. “Now, if you guys are done, I’m going to take a nap,” I say, leaning back on my pillows.
“Sleep well, Sweetheart,” Dad says, turning away. “You know we’re only trying to protect what’s ours.”
Right. He’s trying to protect his business, his construction site, his new plant. And I’m just lumped in with that because I’m just another thing Daddy owns, something he has that the Darlings don’t.
Royal gives me one long, suspicious look before turning to follow.
King’s been relatively quiet during all this, but he’s watching me. “Want me to send you up something to eat?” he asks.
“I’m not hungry,” I say. “But thanks.”
He lingers in the doorway. “I’ll wake you for dinner.”
“Okay.”
He pauses another moment before pulling the door closed. I want to feel bad for him. I know he wants to make sure I’m okay, that he’s trying to take care of me, but he’s part of all this. He agrees with Dad, with Royal. He will always take the side of the Dolce family, which means when I don’t, he’s the enemy.
I open the window a crack so the damp December air can come in, and then I slide down under the blankets and try to sleep. But I keep coming back to one thing. Devlin was right about my family all along. We really are the bad guys. And if I go along with them, then I’m the bad guy, too.
nineteen
Crystal
I guess what they say is true. Every villain is the hero of their own story.
It’s dark outside. I haven’t moved since they left my room. I faked sleep when it was time for dinner, and now I lie in bed, digging my fingers into the bruises Devlin left on my thighs, craving the ache. It doesn’t come. I feel nothing. I stare at the rain outside my window, wishing I could sink into the bed and let it suffocate me.
A knock sounds at the door, but I don’t answer. I don’t want to see them. They’re all liars and hypocrites and worse. Just like me.
King sticks his head in the door. “Crys, sweetheart? You up?”
“No,” I mutter, turning my face away.
King comes in anyway. He sinks onto the edge of the bed, switches on my lamp, and sets a bowl on my chest. “I brought you ice cream.”
I want to scream at him. Ice cream can’t fix this, can’t even make it better.
“It’s rocky road,” he coaxes.
“I don’t care,” I mutter.
“You can’t wallow forever, sis. Even if you hate us, you still gotta eat.”
I can’t stay mad at King. I can’t. Because he’s the only one who’s come to my room to talk to me. He’s the only one who is trying, and even if he can never make it better, he loves me enough to try, even knowing this paltry little gesture is wasted on me. He knows ice cream isn’t enough. But it’s all he has, so he’s giving it to me.
I sigh and push myself up to sitting. “I don’t hate you,” I say, setting the ice cream in my lap. “You’re a good brother, King. Better than any of us deserve.”
“Shut up and eat your ice cream,” he says, but I can tell he’s pleased. I know, even if he doesn’t show it. That’s the only thing King has ever wanted to be—a protector, a savior, a hero. But even he can’t solve this impossible equation, where the only solution involves everyone getting hurt.
For a minute, I eat my ice cream, and he watches like a mother hen, always taking care of me, making sure I’m fed even when I skip dinner, making sure I’m here and safe even when I’d rather climb out my window and run across the lawn to the boy I love and hate with all my heart. Just thinking about him makes pain twist tight inside me.
“How do you do it?” I ask after a while.
“Do what?” King asks.
“How do you fall in love and then just get over it and move on?”
“Dolces don’t fall in love,” he says. “Love makes you weak.”
“Then I guess I’m weak.”
“You’re not in love,” he says sharply. “It’s just a little crush, Crystal. An infatuation. You’ll get over it. I promise.”
But he’s wrong. If he’s never been in love, how would he know? He doesn’t know what it’s like to live for a glimpse of someone’s true self, a genuine laugh, a smile that reaches the eyes and sinks in until you’re seeing not just their soul, but your own soul reflected back at you.
He doesn’t know what it’s like to lie in someone’s arms and feel like every word he says is a treasure, to have to tear yourself from him with anguish when it’s time to go home and you have to stop the flow of ideas that move between your two minds as if they’re connected by more than just words but the most fascinating notions ever spoken.
He’s never gasped at the strength of the ache gripping his heart, or those little moments of truth when two people are nothing but themselves, and the outside world with all its expectations and pressures is stripped away. Everything is laid bare, like even our skin is peeled back, and our raw hearts are pressed together in the most terrifying, beautiful, painful joining of souls.
“You’ll change your mind when you feel it,” I say.
“I won’t feel it,” King says. “Love is a luxury that people like us can’t afford.”
“People like us,” I repeat.
“Crys, I told you what I’m doing when I graduate. There’s no room for weakness or love in that life.”
“Our parents are married,” I point out. “All the uncles, too.”
King hesitates, shifting on the bed. “Yeah,” he concedes. “But I don’t want to put anyone in that position. A family is a liability in that profession. If I loved a girl, I wouldn’t want to put her in danger like that.”
I think of Devlin across the lawn, in his bedroom. I wonder if he’s hurting. I’m selfishly glad he won’t be out throwing the football tonight since it’s raining. I wonder what else he does when he hurts. Does he fight like Royal? Drink and hook up like the twins? Or is he like King, too busy trying to moderate everyone else’s pain to allow himself to feel anything?
I shake the thought away and return my attention to my brother. “But… I mean… Don’t you want kids? You’d make a great dad.”
He gives a little smile and snags my spoon. “I’ve got you guys.”
“You don’t want kids of your own?” I ask, half-heartedly swiping for the spoon.
“No,” he says, scooping a bite of ice cream from the bowl. “I mean, if something happened, if I made a mistake and knocked up some chick, then yeah, I’d do the right thing by her. But even then, I wouldn�
�t let her love me.”
“King,” I say, accepting the spoon when he hands it back. “Are you really sure this is the life you want? It sounds like you’re giving up a lot.”
“We all make sacrifices.”
“But why go to work and make money if you’re not going to use it to create the life you want for yourself? I know you, King. You take care of people. You’ve basically raised us. You’re both our mom and our dad. I don’t believe you don’t want that for yourself.”
“I’ve got it,” he says, throwing an arm around me and rubbing his knuckles into my head. “I’ve got you to take care of. Now, take back that thing about me being a mom or I’ll rub a knot in your hair you’ll never get out.”
“Okay, okay,” I say, laughing and squirming to free myself. “You’re one hundred percent tough guy. Not even a bit nurturing.”
“Good enough,” he says, releasing me and picking up the bowl that tipped over in our tussle.
“Look what you did,” I scold, pushing my mussed hair off my face. “You got chocolate on my blanket.”
King plucks the errant spoon from my bed and puts it back in the bowl. “I’ll get it cleaned,” he says, setting the ice cream on the nightstand. “But first, promise me you’ll be okay.”
I don’t want to lie to my brother, even though I know he needs it.
“What if…” I swallow hard, running my hand down my flat stomach and letting it settle there. “What if we forced them to let us be together?”
“You better not be saying what I think you’re saying.”
My heart hammers in my chest, but I have to ask. I have to know if it’s possible. King is the only one I can ask. Even if he cares more about our family name, our image, than anyone else, he also cares about my happiness. He cares about more of us getting hurt. If he could stop it, he would, no matter what it took.
“I’m just asking,” I say, forcing myself to sound casual. “What if we could bring our families together?”
“You can’t,” he says firmly. “If you had a baby, the Darlings would take it. They’ve done it before. Hell, Mabel’s dad took her from her mom. Why do you think she lives with her dad? Because he’s a Darling, and her mom wasn’t—at least not by birth. And they were fucking married at the time. She wasn’t some irresponsible teenage mom. The Darling still got custody. They always will.”
“Devlin wouldn’t fight me for custody. He’d stand by me.”
King shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. Grampa Darling would lawyer up and start digging into our family history, trying to get the kid from both of you. They’d find out what kind of people we are, and you’d never see that baby again.”
“But… I mean, Uncle Vinny could take our side,” I say, grasping at straws.
“Uncle Vinny’s not that kind of lawyer,” King reminds me. “And yeah, he got us out of a few scrapes. But these custody lawyers, they dig a hell of a lot deeper than someone picking up Duke for getting drunk and loud. Our family might have some sway in New York, but there’s a reason Dad didn’t want the FBI sniffing around when Royal disappeared. People go digging, they find things.”
“Devlin wouldn’t let them,” I insist, holding desperately to my last hope.
King snorts. “Crystal, Devlin would be dead long before that baby came. The day our dad found out, to be exact. And I’m not being dramatic here, baby sis. He’ll order a hit on him.”
My fingers are shaking as I stare at my brother, so calmly telling me that our father would kill the boy I love to keep us apart. “He’d do that, even knowing it would kill me, too?”
King sighs. “Listen to me, baby sis. If you really do love that boy, or even if you just like him, you need to leave him alone. You’re not going to change Dad’s mind, and you’re not going to change Mr. Darling’s. You got two options. Let him go live his life, or keep fucking around with him, and he doesn’t make it to see twenty. I’m sorry it has to be this way, but that’s the way it is for us. Think about that next time you want to do something crazy like fall in love.”
But I don’t have to think about that because I know that day will never come. I already know I’ll never fall in love again. Devlin is my one shot, my one love. I’ll never love anyone else. Even if I could, I’ve learned my lesson, and I won’t let it happen. Like King said, love is a liability. I’d never take that risk again.
That doesn’t change the fact that I’ve already fallen, and there’s nothing I can do about it. It’s too late for me. I love Devlin, and there’s no going back from that. But if loving him means making sure he stays far away from me so he can live a long and happy life with someone else, then that’s what I’ll do.
twenty
Crystal
I remember Christmas break last year. Three weeks of freedom—from stares, whispers, girls cattily speculating on what it would take to knock me and Veronica from the throne. A break meant I could stay home with my family and just be myself. Was that only a year ago? A year and another life, another world, another girl. Now, those three weeks fill me with dread. Three exhausting weeks of faking it, of pretending to be the girl they want, the Dolce daughter. Knowing that no matter how hard I try, I’ll only disappoint them because the harder I fake it, the further away she gets.
The next day is Friday, the last day before holiday break. I’m glad I won’t have to face the Darlings for the next few weeks. Distance from Devlin will help. I’ve done it before. I can do it again.
I walk in with my brothers, ignoring the way people are looking at me, like I’m some kind of mysterious rarity they’d like to put under a microscope. I guess the Darlings have put me there. I open my locker, already knowing the emptiness will knock a hole in my heart. Even though I’m expecting it, the missing coffee still hurts more than I want to admit. It’s been there every single day since Devlin got out of jail, even when we weren’t speaking to each other. Today, it’s gone. I guess it’s really over.
I feel numb and sick as I let my brothers escort me to class. Once they’re gone, I pivot and head to the nurse’s office to beg out of first period. I can’t face a whole class of Devlin Darling.
I wait until the next class has been going for five minutes before I head to my locker, relieved for the empty hallway. No stares or whispers from girls about the Darling Doll spectacle the day before. I can’t believe that for one moment, I let myself believe I’d be Devlin’s queen.
“Hey, Juliet,” comes a slow, southern drawl from behind me.
Damn it.
“Skipping class?” I ask, twisting my locker combination without looking up.
“I got bored,” Colt says, stopping to lean on the lockers beside mine. “My favorite source of entertainment wasn’t there today.”
“Well, I hope you’re happy,” I say, gritting my teeth. “You got what you wanted. Devlin and I are done.”
“What makes you think I wanted that?”
“You gave me the necklace,” I say. “So did Preston. What else could you be doing but trying to cause drama?”
“Alright,” Colt says with a grin. “So, how about it, Juliet? Your balcony, eleven o’clock. Wear next to nothing. I know I will be.”
I turn to him, a lump in my throat. “I mean it.”
“So do I,” he says, the smile dropping away. “I always thought I’d be your Romeo.”
“Colt…”
“You won’t even give it a shot?” he asks, taking my hand and giving me those puppy dog eyes that even now are hard not to meet with a smile and reluctant surrender.
I squeeze his hand. “I hope you find your Juliet,” I say, giving him a gentle smile before drawing my fingers from his. “But it’s not me.”
“Yeah, okay,” he says, slouching back against the lockers. “I just thought maybe this time I’d be the best. But once again, I’m the fuck-up.”
“How are you the fuck-up?” I ask, remembering the way he moved on that football field. It reminds me of the way my quiet, soft-spoken uncle Vinny turns from a lamb into a vicious w
olf in the courtroom.
“Devlin’s the favorite here,” he says, gesturing vaguely to our surroundings. “And Preston’s the favorite at home. I was supposed to get you, Juliet. I took you to homecoming. But then you took off with my cousin…”
I roll my eyes. “Devlin told me you were supposed to fuck me to destroy me. I know none of you actually wanted me.”
Colt grins and shakes his head. “You really think that? Trust me, Devlin’s no whore. He wouldn’t fuck a girl he didn’t want for all the money in the world. Not even his own inheritance.”
“But you would?” I ask with a smirk.
“I’d totally fuck you, Crystal Sweet,” he says, raking his blond hair off his forehead and offering me a roguish grin.
“So, how are you the fuck-up?” I ask. “Because you ended up with Dixie instead of me?”
“I’m not with Dixie,” he says, making a face. “But yeah, it should have been me in that room with you that day.”
“That would have left Devlin with Dixie,” I say. “She’s a little young for him.”
“Nah, I would have nailed you both,” Colt says with an arrogant tilt to his chin.
“You really know how to charm a girl.”
Colt’s smile slips away, and he shrugs. “I’ve been a fuck-up since the day I was born,” he says, “And they found out I wasn’t Devlin’s brother.”
“Why would you be Devlin’s brother?”
“We have the same mom,” he says, looking at me strangely, like I should know this.
“You’re half-brothers?”
“And cousins. It is Arkansas.” He adds a wink, but I mull over his words. That’s exactly what Devlin said. It strikes me how close these boys are—more than cousins. More than brothers, even. In truth, I envy their closeness. I wish I was part of something like that, facing the world with my brothers, as equals, as ourselves, against any threat. Devlin and Colt went through that long, messy divorce and custody war that Devlin said took up most of his childhood. They formed a united front, right down to the line they recite when people bring up their family drama.
